itstheimperfectwriter

[itstheimperfectwriter]

STEPS TO YOU! ── ˙ ̟ lando norris !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: lando norris hates the idea of soulmates. for him, it's hard to see everyone in his life with a matching tattoo, or a timer, or the inability to see colors, while he has to be content with the fact that he may never find his perfect match. that is, until he starts to see mysterious footprints around the paddock, hinting at a path he never expected.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: this is my confession that my favorite soulmate!aus are the ones where they don't think they have one. the sadness of thinking you are not destined for a great love only to find out that there's someone out there for you??? mwah chefs kiss

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: to be added.

LANDO NORRIS WAS A ROMANTIC AT HEART.

He had a secret love for romantic comedies. Watching couples overcome comical obstacles before finding their happy ending always brought a smile to his face. Though he would never admit it, he found joy in the cliched plots and endearing moments portrayed on screen.

The Brit also enjoyed weddings. Family, friends, or mere acquaintances— it didn't matter. To him, the ceremony was a tangible display of true love that existed beyond the silver screen and scripted Hollywood romances.

Despite everything, Lando knew that he would never experience anything like it. Everyone around him seemed to have a sure sign that they were meant for great love: Carlos with his past life visions shared with his beloved, George with his key pendant symbolizing his destiny, and even Oscar, who occasionally vanished, leaving a girl in his place. But not Lando. No visions, no tattoos, no words etched on his arm foretelling what his soulmate would say upon their first encounter. He felt like an outsider in a world where everyone seemed to have found their perfect match, while he knew he would be alone forever.

As Lando's realization sunk in, it was an emotional rollercoaster. He wasn't just a late bloomer; he wasn't meant to blossom at all. In his childhood innocence, he embraced his supposed independence and declared that girls were gross and he could live without someone by his side forever. But as adolescence took over, he found himself increasingly on the sidelines, watching as close friends shared stories of connection and love, filling him with a painful mix of envy and despair.

Every tale of someone else's romance felt like a dagger to the heart, a wound that refused to heal. Lando couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve this solitary fate in a world where everyone else seemed to find their soulmates.

Occasionally, he gazed up at the dark expanse above, yearning for solutions. Had the universe overlooked him or was love just not in his destiny? Some claimed that soulmates were like atoms connected since before the Big Bang, their bond enduring despite eons passing. But what did this mean for Lando? Was he destined for a solitary life even before the cosmos took shape?

As an adult, Lando struggled to convince himself that he had come to terms with his fate. He told himself over and over again that finding true love was possible without a soulmate being involved. It didn't have to be some cosmic arrangement. Yet, deep down, even as he tried to comfort himself with this reasoning, he couldn't shake the desire for something more. He yearned to be uniquely crafted for someone, to be cherished wholeheartedly despite his imperfections and weaknesses.

Lando shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into the present moment. The unforgiving Melbourne sun beat down on him, its golden rays spreading across the circuit. Heat radiated all around him, almost suffocating in its intensity. He cursed his decision to wear an orange hoodie that morning as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Walking from the entrance to his garage, he couldn't escape the discomfort caused by the heat. The thick fabric clung to his skin, trapping him in its grasp as the temperature continued to rise.

Beside him, Oscar emanated an infectious energy. The pilot was fully immersed in the atmosphere of his home country's race, evident through his beaming smile. Despite the hustle and bustle around them, they maintained a calm demeanor, as if they were in a world of their own, oblivious to the cameras of the photographers trying to capture every moment.

Lando observed Oscar's anxious glances, as if he was searching for a particular person.

Deciding to break the silence, Lando asked, "Has your family arrived?"

Oscar's mind seemed elsewhere as he replied, "Oh, yeah. They're here. I'm just looking for someone else."

Someone else. Lando's brow furrowed as he thought about the mysterious bond between Oscar and his soulmate. Every now and then, without warning or explanation, the Australian would switch places with the girl he was connected to. Initially, Lando feared that this could happen during a race and result in a disastrous outcome. However, he soon realized that the universe was smart enough to only make these switches when both were safe.

"You met her?" Lando finally asked, curious about Oscar's soulmate. He looked at him with confusion before smiling sadly.

"Not yet, and she's not the one i'm looking or," Oscar replied, bringing a small sense of relief to Lando. He immediately felt guilty for wishing that others wouldn't find their soulmates, knowing it was selfish and petty.

Additionally, Lando could recall a peculiar incident from the previous year, when Oscar suddenly disappeared, and a girl had surprisingly turned up in the McLaren garage, clad in pajamas and exuding an unusual calmness about the situation. He remembered her as a charming and witty girl, and the thought that Oscar had someone special to share his life with brought a comforting warmth to Lando's heart, though it was tinged with a hint of jealousy.

"I have a friend coming over today," Oscar interjected, breaking through Lando's thoughts. "We went to elementary school together, but it's been a while since we've seen each other. She finished college last year, and managed to take a few days off to visit."

Lando nodded along as Oscar talked about his friend, dividing his attention between their conversation and the busy paddock. He couldn't help but notice weird stains on the ground and wished people would be more considerate of the space.

The two McLaren pilots still had a few minutes before the first meeting and the final free practice before qualifying. They decided to take refuge from the scorching sun inside their respective driver's rooms, seeking a moment of tranquility before the hustle and bustle of the track.

Lando made his way down the narrow path to the driver's room, noticing strange marks on the floor. The team garage was typically spotless, and he couldn't comprehend how it had become so messy.

"Who the hell made this mess?" Lando furrowed his brow and glanced around the room.

Oscar, perplexed, asked, "What mess?"

With a chuckle, Lando replied, "Are you blind? Look at the damn floor, it's covered in stains." He pointed to the ground with his arm.

Oscar tried to play along, forcing a laugh. "Mate, did you hit your head on the way here? The floor is spotless, as always."

Lando's eyes narrowed as he examined the stains on the ground more closely. What he imagined was dirt from a worker's shoe, appeared to not be random splatters; they seemed deliberate, almost forming a pattern. And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, Lando's heart skipped a beat as he realized the stains looked like footsteps.

"This is strange," he muttered, crouching down to get a better look.

Hearing Lando's concern, Oscar joined him and peered at the marks. "What are you thinking?"

Lando's mind was filled with various thoughts. He wondered if the intense heat was causing him to hallucinate. A thought crossed his mind that someone had wandered into the garage barefoot, possibly in search of new shoes. Everything seemed mildly possible.

Despite his efforts to suppress it, a nagging part inside him reminded him of the nights he spent wondering about potential invisible soulmate connections. He couldn't help but recall the excitement of discovering invisible threads - like leaving colorful marks upon touch or having their thoughts connect when within a certain distance, almost like telepathy. Things that wouldn't appear on his body when he turned eight, but still meant he had someone.

The 15-year-old version of himself seemed to be pounding on his chest, making him remember the thread through footsteps that he had long forgotten about, and started to question if even existed. Yet, Oscar didn't seem to notice the distinct marks on the floor and Lando couldn't possibly be hallucinating from dehydration.

Oscar placed his hand on Lando's back and felt a shiver run through his friend's body. "Lando, you're starting to worry me. Do you want to go to the medical bay?"

Lando quickly got up from the floor, shaking off Oscar's touch. "No need, Os. I'm fine." He forced a smile, but there was a lump in his throat as he tried to swallow down the fear and uncertainty. He didn't want to get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once more.

"What do you think of the place?" Oscar's voice startles you from behind,.

A smile lights up your face as you turn around to see your friend in person for the first time in a long while. You eagerly embrace him with open arms, attempting to lift him off the ground like you used to when you were kids.

"Wow, okay, you're not as light as you used to be."

Oscar chuckles, and playfully returns the favor by lifting you up. "Nope, I'm not. Or maybe you're just not as strong anymore."

You tease, giving his shoulder a light slap. He winces and holds onto it, pretending it hurts.

"It's impressive." You answer his previous question. "So many people, so much noise, but I can see why you love it here." You take in the bustling atmosphere with a laugh.

The Aussie leans back against something and asks with a playful glint in his eye, "So, what's been going on in your world?"

You chuckle, immediately feeling at ease with him. "Just the usual post-grad life. Trying to figure it all out."

"Will you stick with auto sports?" He asks hopefully.

"I have an interview lined up to shadow a F2 journalist, so let's hope for the best." You make a gesture of crossed fingers. You thought that graduating with a degree in Journalism would give you direction in life, but almost a year later, you're still searching for your calling.

"It's already yours. I've never met anyone who could get honest answers from drivers like you do." He tried to calm you.

"I interviewed you once for a college project, Os. I don't think that counts." You chuckle.

"Come on, I was in f2 back then. That's definitely something to put on your resume."

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod.

It didn't feel like it had been so long since you two last saw each other in person.

As your gaze sweeps over the cluttered garage once more, something strange catches your eye, and you furrow your brow in confusion.

"Isn't Easter still a ways off?" Your eyes follow a trail of small, misshapen footprints leading around the room and you can't help but comment, "And whoever left those prints definitely didn't excel in their Arts & Crafts classes. They look nothing like bunny paws."

Oscar couldn't believe it. What was going on with his friends and footprints that day?

He squints and shakes his head. "I don't see anything," he says, trying to follow your gaze.

"Of course you don't. I've been telling you to get your eyes checked for years," you tease with a laugh. You walk over to him and point directly at the pawprint (that looks more like a footprint) on the ground that you can clearly see, even though it's slightly faded. Oscar looks at you with confusion.

"Are you and Lando in on this together?" He starts to suspect a prank.

"Lando? Your teammate?" You shake your head. "I've never even met him, Os." A mischievous grin spreads across your face. "But maybe I should."

Oscar's gaze shifted from the empty space in front of him. "Don't even go there, missy. Teammates are strictly off-limits."

You couldn't help but tease, "Why, does he have a soulmate?"

Oscar used to give you pitying looks whenever you mentioned not having a love thread, but it had been a while since then. He missed all of you - including your bad puns.

"I don't know. We've never discussed it," Oscar shuddered. He and Lando had grown closer over the past year, but the Brit never seemed to want to talk about that topic, so Oscar left it alone.

You continue to tease, "I still don't see why he's off-limits."

"Can you imagine how traumatizing it would be to see Lando making out with my best friend?"

"It wouldn't be any weirder than collecting bugs with my best friend and then suddenly having a random girl in front of me," your counterpart argues.

"Touché" It wouldn't be right for Oscar to dictate who you should pursue, especially since you had no control over randomly talking to his soulmate after swapping places. "It still would be fucking weird."

"You know, if two people saw those pawprints and you didn't, I think it's safe to say who's the one in the wrong here," You nudged him playfully. "Maybe you're just not looking close enough. Let me guide you."

Stepping closer to the mysterious prints, you crouched down and examined them closely. "They seem... fresh, don't they?"

Oscar joined you, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out any shape or form on the ground. "I swear, there's nothing there. Are you sure this isn't some elaborate prank?"

You shook your head, running your fingers over the indentations. "No, these are real."

Despite trying his best, Oscar couldn't make out what he was supposed to be looking at. "Alright, you got me. Congrats on your and Lando's little joke."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your frustration grows as you wonder how he could have missed the obvious footprints right in front of him.

"He saw these so-called "footprints" too." He gestured with air quotes, convinced that his best friend and teammate were up to some strange prank together.

Before you could protest, someone called out your friend's name. "I have to go, it's my engineer," he said, getting up from the floor. He gave you a friendly smile that quickly turned into a knowing smirk. "And don't follow the footprints, Alice. They won't lead you to wonderland."

Wonderland or not, you would be stupid not to follow it.

As you follow the trail of footprints through the crowded garage, your curiosity builds with each step. You maneuver carefully around toolboxes and piles of spare parts, focusing on the prints as they lead you deeper into the maze-like space.

At last, you reach the end of the trail and come face to face with a closed door. Your heart races with excitement and anticipation as you stare at the sign above it: "Lando Norris' Driver's Room"

You furrow your brow in confusion. How could Norris' driver's room be connected to the strange footprints you've been tracking? Is this some kind of elaborate prank that Oscar roped Lando into as well?

Despite the nagging feeling that something was off, you stood your ground and refused to give into whatever it was that was trying to lure you in. You mentally prepared yourself to turn around and head back to Oscar's garage, where at least you felt familiar, and he couldn't pull pranks on you in front of his entire team.

And then, as if on cue, the door swings open, revealing Lando Norris standing on the other side. His presence fills the doorway, commanding attention with an effortless grace that leaves you breathless.

In that moment, you can't help but drink in the sight of him—the way the soft glow of the room illuminates his features, casting his angular jawline and chiseled cheekbones in sharp relief. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of azure, hold a glint of mischief as they meet yours, and you find yourself drowning in their depths.

Lando is clad in his fireproofs, the sleek material hugging his lean frame in all the right places. His racesuit hangs by his waist, a vibrant burst of color against the backdrop of the room. There's a confidence in the way he carries himself, a hint of swagger that speaks of countless hours spent behind the wheel of a racing car.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates you—it's the strange electricity that seems to crackle in the air when your eyes meet.

Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself in a predicament, searching for a clever excuse. You definitely didn't want to appear as a stalker-fan who snuck in. "Um, I was just... uh..."

"Oscar?" Lando interrupts, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, Oscar!" You latch onto the name like a lifeline. "I'm a friend of his."

"He mentioned you," Lando nods, a friendly grin spreading across his face.

"Ah, so Oscar's been gossiping about me, huh?" You tease, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lock gazes with Lando. "I hope he said only nice things."

Lando chuckles softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Oh, absolutely. But he forgot to mention how gorgeous you are"

You feel a warm flush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, and you playfully bat your eyelashes. "Oh, did he now? Well, I'll have to thank him for the rave reviews later."

An easy silence falls between you, charged with unspoken chemistry and the promise of potential. Lando breaks the quiet with a mischievous smirk, closing the gap between you.

"Care for a little tour while we wait for Oscar? I promise not to lead you astray... too much," he adds with a wink.

Despite the lingering adrenaline from the close call and the unexpected encounter with Lando, you find yourself nodding eagerly. Oscar had been too occupied to give you a proper tour, and you were itching to explore the place.

"Lead the way, but I'm holding you to that promise of not getting lost," you tease, motioning for him to lead. As he begins to walk, you fall into step beside him, the playful brush of your shoulders sending sparks flying.

"Do you have a habit of getting lost?" Lando asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock dismay. "Define 'a habit'," you retort, a playful sparkle in your eyes. "When we were younger, Oscar and I used to roam around this massive mall near our homes. I lost count of how many times he had to page me over the speakers because I got sidetracked and wandered off."

"I'll have to keep a close eye on you, then," Lando quips. "Can't have Oscar's friend getting lost on my watch."

You chuckle at his teasing, reveling in the easy banter between you two. As he continues to show you around the McLaren paddock, pointing out various spots and sharing amusing anecdotes, you find yourself drawn to his effortless charm and infectious energy.

"You know, I never expected today to turn out like this," you admit, stealing a sideways glance at Lando. "But I'm glad it did. Especially if it means getting a personal tour from McLaren's charming star driver."

Lando beams at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Consider yourself lucky, then. Not everyone gets the VIP treatment around here." He pauses for a moment before adding with a playful grin, "Although, I must confess, it's rather challenging to focus on giving a proper tour with you flashing that smile."

Your heart flutters at his words, but you play it cool with a playful roll of your eyes. "You need to work on your flirting skills, dude."

"But do they work?" Lando counters with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe. Keep trying, and who knows where it might lead."

"Ah, so you're admitting my charm has potential?" Lando shoots back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," you reply with a smirk..

"Ouch, that hurts," Lando feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Here I am, giving you the grand tour, and you won't even give me credit for my rizz."

"Okay, okay, maybe just a little credit," you concede with a laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But don't let it get to your head."

Lando grins. "Don't worry, I'll try to contain my ego."

As the tour comes to an end, you and Lando bid your goodbyes, thanking each other for the enjoyable time spent together. It's time for qualifying, and Lando is escorted towards his car by a member of his team. Just before he gets in, he looks back towards you with a faint smile. In that moment, his gaze locks with yours, and he freezes as a realization dawns upon him. The footsteps he had noticed earlier, weaving through the McLaren paddock, had a familiar pattern. They were from you.

He looks back to the path he took with you, and the marks on the floor as clear as day. They appear in front of his driver's room, in the small cafeteria where he took you to get the best coffee from the paddock (his words), and they follow you as you make your way to Oscar's side of the garage.

Lando's lips part slightly, as if he couldn't get enough air.

Before Lando could take a step towards you, his engineer's firm grip on his arm pulls him back. "Where are you going? Quali is about to start," his engineer reminds him, snapping him out of the mesmerizing realization.

Lando looks torn, torn between the exhilaration of discovering a potential connection he never noticed before and the responsibility of his racing career. He gives you one last longing look before reluctantly turning away, his mind buzzing with newfound thoughts and possibilities.

As he slides into the driver's seat and revs up the engine, he can't shake off the image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and now, the footprints you left behind that seemed to lead straight to him. The engine roars to life, drowning out his racing thoughts as he steels himself for the high-stakes qualifying round ahead.

There were various theories floating around regarding why Lando secured the pole position. Some attributed it to an engine change, while others praised McLaren's performance on the specific circuit. But deep down, Lando knew that his main motivation was to finish everything quickly so he could talk to you.

He heard his engineer's voice in his ear through the radio, but he wasn't really paying attention. He knew he had interviews to do, photos to take, and a tire to sign, but as he stepped out of the car, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the girl he never knew existed.

After the whirlwind of interviews subsides and Lando returns to the bustling garage, his mind remains fixated on one thought: finding you. He navigates through the maze of mechanics and engineers, his determination unwavering.

Spotting Oscar amidst the commotion, Lando strides over, his expression a mix of eagerness and urgency. "Hey, Oscar," he calls out, drawing his friend's attention.

Oscar looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, a puzzled expression crossing his face at the intensity in Lando's gaze. "Hey, Lando. What's up?" he asks, curious yet cautious.

"I need to talk to your friend," Lando replies, his tone serious.

Oscar's confusion deepens, and a hint of protectiveness flickers in his eyes. "My friend? Why do you need to speak to her?" he inquires, his tone guarded.

Lando hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "I... I just need to ask her something," he says evasively, unwilling to divulge the true reason behind his urgency.

Oscar studies Lando intently, sensing there's more to the story than meets the eye. "Is everything okay?" he probes, his concern evident.

Lando shifts uncomfortably under Oscar's scrutiny, torn between his desire to find you and his reluctance to reveal too much. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assures, attempting to brush off Oscar's concern.

But Oscar isn't convinced, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Look, if you're going to involve my friend in something, I need to know what's going on," he insists firmly.

Lando sighs, realizing he can't keep dodging the question. "It's just... I met her earlier, and I... I need to talk to her," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Oscar's expression softens as he recognizes the sincerity in Lando's words. He may be protective, but he also trusts his instincts when it comes to his friends. "Okay," he relents, nodding in understanding. "She's in my driver's room."

Before Lando can make his way there, Oscar grabs his arm, a serious expression etched on his face. "Look, I know we don't talk about this, but…" He hesitates momentarily. "I don't know if you have a soulmate, but she doesn't. And I don't want you giving her false hope, only to disappear the moment someone mentions what's on your arm, or whatever."

Lando offers a reassuring smile. "You're wrong."

"Listen, I don't care if your mark is on your arm or your ass, my point was-"

"It's not about that. It's about her not having a soulmate," Lando interjects.

Oscar's expression turns grave. "What do you mean?"

"Footsteps," Lando responds simply.

Oscar's frustration bubbles to the surface. "What's going on with both of you? First, you mention footsteps, then her." He glances at his teammate, who meets his gaze with a serene smile. In Lando's eyes, there's a glimmer of hope and relief that Oscar can't quite comprehend. Initially, he considers escorting both of his friends to the medical bay, puzzled by their strange behavior regarding footsteps that only they seem to perceive—

Footsteps that only they can see.

A sudden realization dawns upon Oscar, his eyes widening. "You two are soulmates."

"Hopefully," Lando murmurs. "I—I never thought I had one. No marks, no dreams, nothing. But this morning, I saw footsteps. And then we met, and I showed her around. We were side by side, so I didn't pay much attention. But before Qualifying, I noticed her walking toward your side of the garage, and there were footsteps leading there."

As the realization settles between them, Oscar reluctantly releases Lando's arm, allowing him to continue on his way. However, just as Lando begins to move away, Oscar calls out to him, his tone a mix of seriousness and jest.

"Lando, wait," Oscar says, his voice tinged with playful threat. "Soulmate or not, if you ever hurt my best friend, I'll make sure to crash into you in every single race."

Lando stops in his tracks, turning back to face Oscar with a wry smile. "Fair warning," he replies, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I can assure you, if I ever did hurt her, I'd deserve every crash."

The Brit's heart races as he stands before the door, realizing he doesn't need to ask Oscar about the girl when the footsteps guide him straight to her. He wonders if he'd ever noticed those phantom imprints before, dismissing them as mere smudges or dirt. And in a fleeting moment of clarity, he wonders if those same invisible marks had led you to his door earlier, tracing a path he hadn't noticed until now.

As Lando hesitates outside the door, uncertainty gripping his thoughts, he contemplates his next move. Should he pace back and forth until you notice the traces on the floor? Or perhaps he should boldly declare their connection as soulmates upon entering? Before he can settle on a plan, the door swings open.

"Wow!" You exclaim, your initial fright giving way to laughter. "Okay, I probably deserved that. Second time's the charm, right?"

"Uhm," Lando's throat constricts, his words stumbling over each other. In his mind, this conversation had seemed much simpler. "Look, I—I need to ask you something. Do you… have a soulmate?"

Your gaze hardens, but it's not anger that flickers in your eyes, only a hint of sorrow. "We just met today," you confess, your tone tinged with vulnerability. Lando realizes it might be an invasive question; after all, some people prefer to keep such matters private. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean—" Lando fumbles, his nerves getting the best of him.

"It's alright, I understand," you say, crossing your arms with a sad smile. "You do?"

"I do," Lando confirms, gesturing subtly to the scattered footsteps that crisscross the room.

"Cool," you respond, your expression disoriented.

"No, wait, that's not what I meant." Lando's frustration mounts as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be stupid in love?

"It's okay, Lando, really," you reassure him gently. "I know some people like to have... fun before finding their soulmate. I won't judge you for that." Yet beneath your understanding tone, a pang of sadness lingers, the thought of forever being a mere diversion rather than a final destination.

"Listen," Lando interjects, laying his hands gently atop yours, a jolt of electricity coursing between them once more. "Earlier today, you saw those footsteps, didn't you?"

"Actually, yes," you reply, confusion clouding your features. Oscar had vehemently denied their existence, leaving you to question your own perception.

"Me too. I saw footsteps this morning. Then I noticed footsteps leading towards Oscar's garage," Lando reveals, his voice soft with emotion. He silently pleads for you not to notice the trembling in his hands. "And now, I see footsteps again. Emerging from the door and heading toward the couch. A circle of them, right in front of the television."

As Lando confides in you, his vulnerability palpable, you begin to piece it together. Your eyes widen in realization as you look around. Although you can't see the invisible footsteps he's describing, you can distinctly perceive a path, stretching from the door to where Lando stands before you.

"Every step leads me to you," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

A tender smile graces your lips as you absorb Lando's words, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. "I never thought I had a soulmate," you confess softly, your voice tinged with wonder.

Lando's own smile mirrors yours, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at that, one thing that we already have in common," he replies, his tone gentle yet playful.

You share a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with unspoken emotions swirling between you. It's a realization that defies logic yet feels undeniably right, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you together. Well, it did, didn't it? Maybe you should apologize for all the times your cursed at it.

"And here we are," you say, a hint of awe coloring your words.

"Here we are," Lando echoes, his gaze never leaving yours.

A mischievous glint twinkles in your eyes as you playfully tease, "You know, when I suggested you keep trying to flirt with me, this wasn't exactly the outcome I had in mind."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. "Well, lucky for me, there's no one I'd rather up my game with than you."

You laugh, feeling the tension ease between you as the playful banter continues. "Smooth talker," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

"Just stating the truth," Lando replies, his tone lighthearted yet sincere. "Besides, you will have to deal with it for the rest of your life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the playful façade giving way to a deeper connection between you. "I suppose you have a point," you concede with a smile, feeling yourself drawn even closer to him.

Lando's eyes light up with mischief as an idea sparks in his mind. "You know," he begins, a playful grin tugging at his lips, "I've spent my entire life thinking you didn't exist. I have a lot of making up to do."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his bold statement, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, intrigued by his playful demeanor. "Oh really?" you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "And just how do you plan on making it up to me?"

Lando's grin widens as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I was thinking we could start here. I can't really go out, but my hotel has an amazing restaraunt" he suggests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "After that... Have you ever been to Monaco? Or Italy? Maybe after that, we could..."

You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, charmed by his playful spirit. "I say you're full of surprises, Lando Norris," you tease, interrupting him, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes. "But I like the way you think."

A bashful smile graces Lando's lips as he chuckles softly. "Great," he replies, his tone now tinged with a hint of shyness. "I've got a meeting to attend, but after that, how about we meet back here?"

"You'll know exactly where to find me."

As warmth floods through Lando's heart, a tender smile graces his lips. In that fleeting moment of realization, it dawns on him—he'll never doubt your existence again. Not when there's a trail of footsteps leading him straight back to you, a path he'll eagerly follow time and time again.

Lando Norris is a romantic at heart. The universe, in all its wisdom, understood that he deserved nothing less than the greatest of loves.

fun fact i actually hate this

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed. crossed names means i couldn't tag you) :: @saturnssunflower @sopheeg @minkyungseokie @alexander-hamilhoe @butterfly-lover @cool-ultra-nerd @tomriddleswhorecruxes @everbizzare @chonkybonky @styl1shl1v

[itstheimperfectwriter]

The knight is back 🗡️🪦

[itstheimperfectwriter]

Oh Lancelot, loved by the king, loved by the queen

Another Arthuriana idea I had for a while. Guinevere design is much inspired by William de Leftwich Dodge illustration

[itstheimperfectwriter]

Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today.

Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs. 

Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.

The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top. 

His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.

"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.

Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him. 

"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.

But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together. 

Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."

Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.

You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck,"  it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"

He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb." 

On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.

And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.

"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.

Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut. 

"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to. 

Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype. 

"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life. 

Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you. 

Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy. 

A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more. 

"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."

A pitchy whine slices through the air.

You haven't heard that one before. 

Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"

He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."

It's not fair.

Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.

"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward. 

Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."

"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man. 

Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy." 

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb. 

As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks. 

But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.

Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.

"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.

He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore." 

"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"

"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."

That...

"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time. 

When he was on the other side of the room.

"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."

Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.

He'd heard you through the damn wall?

But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room. 

"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"

"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest. 

His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.

"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"

And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?" 

You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.

"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."

A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.

You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.

"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...

magnificent. 

Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat. 

And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager. 

His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.

"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut.  Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit." 

You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.

"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."

"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."

He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.

"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."

Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.

His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—" 

"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—

Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 

It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass. 

Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers. 

Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes. 

"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs. 

"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"

"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."

There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.

You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door. 

The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.

Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.

For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.  

Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...

Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...

"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"

But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate. 

Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.

The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him. 

His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.

There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.

Hell, he didn't even know. 

It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip. 

If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now. 

Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow. 

You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth. 

He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently. 

"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"

His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.

He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself. 

"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.

His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.

And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.

"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen. 

You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him. 

His eyes roll.

"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.

This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.

And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit! 

All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.

[itstheimperfectwriter]

so i just now realized that @headgehug reblogged my lil Charlie fic when she’s literally my favourite favourite FAVOURITE writer for Charlie x reader works and i’m kinda crying ????

pls go check out her ao3 - absolutely beautiful stuff. i’ve linked one of my fav of her works but go wild <333

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34596079?view_adult=true

[itstheimperfectwriter]

bg3 companions + their reactions to finding out they knocked up fem tav? 👀 (for the ladies we can say they're trans or it's magic)

I wrote my boy first because he’s the best, can you guess who it is? Hint: He’s my first romance. No guess for you lovely requestor because you know too much LOL

Also I’m ignoring cannon endings here because we want to end up happy with babies. No angst here, begone!

Warnings: Implied Sex, Implied Sexual Situations, Pregnant Tav, Babies, Pregnancy Thing (Morning Sickness)

Astarion:

At first, he thinks that you’re joking. Vampires can’t have children after all, that’s a pretty basic fact. When you’re insistent, part of him wants to accuse you of cheating, as much as it pains him. That’s a part of him still tainted by Cazador and he muffles it as best he can. Astarion is going to insist you go to a healer together; if you’re not pregnant, something must be going on you need help with. When Shadowheart confirms you’re with child, he’s at a loss. Astarion doesn’t know what to say, truly.

After the initial shock, he goes on the hunt for anything and everything about human-vampire babies. The records are hard to find and some are locked far, far away but he finds them all. He can be very persuasive after all. It’s in one of these books that he figures out how you two made a baby; he’s going to be very careful taking your blood from now on. Speaking of, Astarion will refuse to drink from you while you pregnant, no ifs ands or buts. This is a firm boundary for him, even if you smell more and more delicious the farther along you get.

The pregnancy is hard and Astarion is afraid he’s going to lose you. The birth is especially gruesome and it’s only because of Shadowheart and Halsin that you’re alive. He wants to resent the baby for how you suffered but he can’t, they’re just too perfect. He’s afraid of getting too close, of tainting this little thing but you refuse to let him be apart. The first time he holds your child he weeps and it’s over. Astarion is always going to struggle with his emotions and feelings about being a father but never about how much he loves them. Also, he’s completely in charge of their wardrobe; you’re going to have the best-looking baby in the entire city hands down.

Gale:

Gale was always on the fence about kids. Sure they’re cute but they’re also loud and he struggles to take care of himself, let alone a little squishy creature. That doesn’t mean he’s upset when you tell him you’re pregnant, not at all. He’s just doing furious calculations in his mind and it looks like he’s crashed. Give his brain a moment to reset and he’ll give you a large grin and lean down to kiss you. Tara is the first person the two of you tell and she’s excited, vowing to be the baby’s protector. Gale loves her even more which is quite the feat. His mother is next and she immediately starts offering help. He just can’t get over how perfect his family is, it feels like a dream sometimes. 

He takes a very technical approach to your pregnancy, like everything. Gale is reading all of the baby books and using all of the tracking charts he can get his hands on. He even goes to talk to midwives, wanting an expert opinion. It’s very sweet of him but you have to remind him that all babies grow at their own pace. He just wants to be the best dad he can and for him, that means more information. It is funny to watch him change a diaper for the first time but he never backs down from a challenge! Maybe he can use magic…?

He’s a mess when you actually go into labor. Gale swore he would be with you the entire time and then passed out in the final moments. He wakes up to a healthy baby and immediately starts crying. He enjoys being a dad, especially teaching your child new things. Your kid is going to have a huge curious streak that Gale will feed with vigor. He doesn’t consciously want your kid to be a wizard but would be overjoyed to have more in common with them.

Wyll:

Wyll is over the moon, as surprised as he is. Kids are something that he’s always wanted to have eventually and with you, his favorite person? What could go wrong? Of course, he’ll hear out your concerns if you have any and can have difficult conversations around pregnancy and child birth. One benefit of being a noble is that he has resources to help; whatever you want will be yours. He’s nervous to tell his dad but once the older man starts to tear up, he knows that he’s made a good choice. Wyll wants his family to be whole and happy.

He’s a chronic hoverer, as cute and frustrating as that is. Even in the early stages of pregnancy Wyll will try to do everything for you; moving a trunk? He’s got that, don’t strain yourself. Trying to cook dinner? Let him help you love. Be firm that you can do things yourself and he’ll back off. Just know that when you turn to ask him for help he’ll be waiting in the wings to be your hero. He’s also a pro at helping you figure out cravings. Wyll won’t complain if you wake him up in the middle of the night to go get something from the kitchen. He loves wrapping his arms around you from behind and rocking together; you being in his arms is his favorite thing.

He’s a trooper during the birth, being there the entire time. It takes a long time and he does worry but he encourages you and is your personal cheerleader. He can’t stop smiling after the baby is born, tracing their cheeks and forehead. As much as it would be funny to say Wyll struggles with being a dad, he really doesn’t. He loves your child so much, you’re surprised he never brought up kids in the first place. He is very much the definition of doting father but don’t let that fool you, he takes no disrespect, especially towards you. You’re the ruler of the house and Wyll is your backup. He’s the perfect mix of fun and strict dad. Now if he can convince you to have others…

Karlach:

Karlach is over the moon when you find our you’re pregnant. She had noticed you felt off and encouraged you to go to the doctor. Neither of you were expecting the baby news, as silly as it sounds. That doesn’t stop her form immediately lifting you up with a loud ‘whoop!’ and spinning your around the room. She loves babies! She loves you! This is going to be great.

She insists on redoing a room just for the baby. Even if their crib is going to be in your room for the first few months, Karlach wants your kid to have their own space. She paints the walls, builds all the furniture, everything. She asks for you opinion on decorations and doesn’t do anything without checking with you first but it’s her labor of love. It’s also her project for when she gets anxious thinking about the future. What is something goes wrong with her heart? What if something is wrong with the baby? What is the birth is too much for you? All of these thoughts get washed away in making the baby’s room perfect and then she goes to talk to you.

Karlach helps as much as she can during the birth aka you kick her (lovingly) into the hall to go grab towels so she stops hovering. When she gets back the baby is almost here and there’s no time to panic, just watch with wide eyes. She thinks you’re even more of a badass for going through all that and asks to hold the baby fist. Karlach cries holding them; they’re so cute and small and they’re the perfect mix of the two of you. She’s defiantly going to be the fun mom and there will be moments where it feels like you have two kids to scold. She takes safety very seriously, however, and is the first to lecture about stranger danger. Your kid will never feel unloved or unsafe, Karlach swears it on her life. This is her family now and no one else can have them.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel struggles with the news that you’re having a baby. Partly because she never thought that she could have kids and the other part because she’s terrified about being a mom. She wasn’t raised in a traditional Faerunian way; no where on the continent can be compared to being raised Gith. She needs time to process on her own and it’ll be a few days before she comes back ready to talk. Take her concerns seriously and, if you truly want to keep the baby, she’ll raise them with you. She loves you after all.

It takes her a bit to understand all the changes your body is going through. It’s horrifying and amazing to watch your stomach swell and she loves gently cradling your bump as it grows. She doesn’t know what to do about the crying, except when someone else makes you cry. Then it’s easy: she wants to kill them. That usually makes you laugh and you’re able to talk her out of bodily harm. You do have some nice shop discounts now. Lae’el is very much your guard dog and she fulfills her position with pride.

The entire birthing process just shows Lae’zel that you’re the strongest person she knows. She’s completely impressed by how you handle everything and has a new respect for moms everywhere. She still thinks it’s gross and inefficient but badass all the same. Lae’zel is a strict mom but soft in her own way. She’s still learning to be kind to herself and the world around her. Your child will never feel the brunt of her frustration or confusion; they will, however, be able to swing a sword much too young. She beams with pride the first time your child beheads a training dummy and you know, deep deep down, that the two of them going to be trouble.

Shadowheart:

She starts to notice the signs before you do, honestly. At first it’s little things; you’re tired quicker, you’re more sensitive to certain smells. The big one is that you start to get morning sickness, frequently. Shadowheart finally sits you down after the fifth morning in a row over a bucket and checks you over. You’re pregnant all right, not doubt there. She’s going to be as surprised as you; you were both good about protection. Surprise baby!

She’s fairly neutral about kids. She never thought that she would have any, serving Shar, but now there’s a little more appeal to them. The pooping and crying she could live without but the idea of there being someone made up of the two of you? Shadowheart likes the idea more than she would admit out loud. She starts researching pregnancy healing the midwifery right away; she doesn’t have a lot of expertise with babies but she is a healer.

Shadowheart insists on delivering your baby herself. She wants to be a part of this and while you’re going to be doing the hard part, she wants to support you. If you have an issue, she will relent but has to be in the room. Your delivery is flawless and as she holds the bloody baby in her hands, she feels full. Of love and hope and excitement, all those emotions she once would have sworn off. For the first time since you’ve found out you’re pregnant, she’s excited to be a mom. She’s a strict but loving mom, teasing her kid and embarrassing them in public (just a little, like a cheek pinch). Shadowheart loves singing to your kids, something neither of you knew until now. Your house is full of love and laughter and singing, just perfect.

[itstheimperfectwriter]

she HAD to say it out loud huh

[itstheimperfectwriter]

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Three times Spencer Spencer Reid seeks for physical affection (Inspired by some of the Prompts from the list seeking out physical affection by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 3095.

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

1. acting like they're cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets

After a long case, the team was exhausted. The flight back to Quantico will take at least 8 hours, so they decided to travel back immediately after they ended the work. 

The flight was at night time. Close to the winter season, the weather is changing. So what better opportunity to get close to the person he was enchanted with, than get warm while getting close on the big couch of the plane? 

“Why are you so cold?” JJ asked Y/N.

“I really don't know, probably the warm weather before getting to the plane and the air conditioner here it's giving me chills.” She said while warming her arms.

“Did you know the average temperature in planes is about 22 to 24 degrees? That's because while we are flying the temperature outside is about -60 degrees…” He started to talk, until she interrupted him.

“So… I should be grateful?” She asked him while getting on the seats.

“They leave the temperature that way to have the average one on land, it is supposed to make you comfortable.” He said while passing her his own sweater.

“I was planning on saying no to your sweater, but I'm going to say yes because I'm really cold.” She told him while putting the sweater on.

They took their seats, and the flight began.

“Go Pretty Boy, it's the perfect time for a snuggle.” Said Derek passing by with a coffee, giving him a smirk.

“I don't know what you mean.” He decided to play it cool. 

“Don't play dumb.” Rossi told him from his seat.

“What are you talking about?” He knew perfectly what they were talking about, but he knew that if he admitted it, the teasing would have no end. 

“Leave him alone, if Reid doesnt what to make another move, then he won't.” Hotch said.

“Another move?” He asks now, curious.

“I mean, giving up your sweater even when you never ever take it off on a daily basis? For me it was a move.” Now Hotch was profiling him. 

“You are joining them?” He couldn't believe that the man was joining the fun.

“It's not that I'm joining, but if you want to make a move, you should start doing something.” Ended Hotch getting back to his report while smiling. 

After two hours of flight, everyone already had a quick dinner and some of them were almost ready to fall asleep. But Y/N was still cold, so he finally decided to use his knowledge to his advantage. 

“You may not say anything, but I can see you are getting colder, we can share the blanket.” He said while looking at her while she trembled.

“I think it’s a great idea.” She stood up from her seat and got close to him on the couch.

Spencer makes a space for her, and covers her up with the blanket.

“High stress levels can cause flu-like symptoms, such as fever, cold, nausea, and body aches. There's a high possibility you are about to get sick.” He said while looking down at her.

“Probably. This case was a mess, thankfully we resolved it.” She said while shivering.

“Layering clothes to get warm could prevent the colds. But right now, the clothes are limited, I can give you a hug, if you want to.” He said while feeling his face getting warm. He took the chance to have her in his arms. At that moment he could hear some laughs from the seats, apparently the interaction wasn’t as private as he thought.  He looked around to see his teammates giving him thumps ups while Emily said “Nice one!”.

He wasn’t sure on how to act properly on how to start a romantic “relationship ”. The few times he had experienced, were either brief and the closest he had, ended up in a tragedy. 

Thankfully he was learning to live with it, with a new hope of finding someone to spend his life with. But he was wheeling to take a try.

2. fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

He was an expert talking for audiences. He usually did not get nervous about it, after conferences, seminars or even giving classes at college, it was easy peasy. 

But it was the first time Y/N was going to talk to an audience giving a class of her expertise. 

She was good at talking to the press when needed, or even to groups to calm the masses in times of fear. But it was different to try to explain situations to people in dangerous situations than teaching young people how to act as a mediator in dangerous situations. 

She knew how to react, but one thing was doing it and another different to explain it.

Rossi invited Hotch and Y/N to give a lecture on how to act on situations that involve firearms and detonation objects. The team knew she was one of the best ones in that field, with no mistake shots, amazing disarmament skills and extraordinary knowledge on bombs (just like Derek teached  her on her Academy days).

They spend several late nights together (sometimes with the other members joining) practicing her lecture. It had anything and everything that could possibly happen, and she was ready for any possible question. 

All the team was there to support her. 

“I’m nervous.” Y/N said while fixing her hair looking through the window reflection.

“Garcia is inside getting ready with your slides. Take a deep breath, you're going to do great.” Hotch told her.

“Yeah, you practiced a lot and if anything happens, you just need to talk about the heroic job you do every day.” Said Rossi, while getting close to the door of the exhibition room. “Hotch and I are going to start, and then you will proceed.”

“A brief introduction and you will continue.” Said Hotch, entering the room.

“You will be doing fine! If anything happens, we are going to be inside, just look for us if you get really nervous.” Said Emily, while Derek and JJ get inside the room.

“You are going to do just fine, just like we practice, remember it's more a talk than a class. They want to know how it's going to be in their future work field.” Spencer told her while opening the door for her.

“You are right, in that room we are the only ones that know how things actually work.” She took a deep breath.

“Let me fix the final details from your hair.” Spencer told her before Rossi and Hotch started to talk. “All done. You can do it. If you get nervous, just look for me and start talking to me.” He winked, while getting to his seat.

Rossi and Hotch started the talk with certain facts and background about de BAU, and proceeded to let Y/N start explaining.

At one point of the lecture she got so passionate about it, that she started to pass her fingers through her hair thanks to the constant hair interrupting her view. While brushing it, she didn’t notice it was beginning to get disheveled. For sure her attendants didn’t care about it, they were deep into the information the expert was giving them for their future work field.

By the end of the lecture, the students were ecstatic with the knowledge they received, even asking for her contact info for future references related to their courses, some of them asking their professor if they could invite Y/N again in the future. 

Rossi was right to invite her.

The first one to arrive was Spencer.

“Let me fix your hair.” He said while brushing his fingers through her hair.

“Again?” She said surprised.

“It's kind of untidy over here.” He continued,

“Was like this all the time?” She said with little worry in her voice.

“For about more than half of your presentation.” He answered.

“Really? Why didn't you tell me something?” She asked him.

“That could be distracting for you.”He finished fixing her hair. “All done!”

“You could make me a sign.” Y/N told him.

“You didn't even look at us, and your hair gets that way when you start to talk really excited about the things that fascinates you, it always blocks your vision and you start to adjust your hair.” Spencer commented on that fact.

“Why haven't you ever told me that?” Now she was curious.

“Because you look cute that way.” He answered her. “Now come here, let me congratulate you.” He proceeds to give her a hugh, she is back into his arms. “You did marvelous over there! A natural instructor.”

“Thanks for helping me rehearse over 20 times.” She couldn't express how grateful she was with him.

“Actually, it was 34 times.” All he could hear was her laugh. “Not that I was counting.” He was in fact counting. She just smiled looking up at him.

The next one to approach was the team.

“Come here.” Penelope said while hugging her really tight. “You did amazing, my friend!.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! The presentation was amazing, really to the point and with the details that needed to be exposed.” Said Emily while joining the hug.

“Of course Y/LN.” Said Hotch while giving her a smile. 

“You were outstanding, I made a good decision to bring you with me today.” Said Rossi. “Whenever you want to come back and give another class, we can arrange you a spot.”

“And not forgetting that I teached you the basics back in your days.” Said Derek giving her a big hug. 

“You should give a class together.” Said JJ, getting close to congratulate her dear friend.

“Thank you, every single one of you for helping me get prepared for this.” Y/N with a big smile on her face. “Especially Spencer, thanks for listening to my lecture 34 times.” She said while giving him a hug.

“This deserves a celebration! Dinner at my house tonight!” Said Rossi from behind.

Everyone started to walk away, to finally celebrate another accomplishment that one of their teammates got.

3. reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it

Spencer knew the basics of dancing. Really the basics, it took him time, but Derek and Penelope helped him during their free times. 

You may ask, why?

Rossi was doing his annual Christmas Celebration, only with the BAU team. It wasn’t a big deal of a party, but for sure a ball in small proportions. An attempt of dancing was another opportunity to be close (at least even more close than what they already are) to Y/N, and he was taking a chance. The team kept teasing him, but later he realized they were just trying to help him to get with her, and he was willing to take their support.

“Pretty Boy, it’s time.” Said Derek.

“I don’t know, we only took a few lessons.” Said Spencer unsure.

“Believe me, you will want to hold her close for a while.” Said Penelope.

“What do you mean?”

“You will know soon.” Ended Derek.

From afar, he could see Y/N and Emily talking, they were really into the conversation while JJ and Will made comments, they were really into it.

The music started to sound in the background and Rossi, as the extra person he was, made an invitation so they could start to dance while the turntable was in the works of preparation. 

Derek and Penelope were the ones who opened the dance floor, following behind Hotch and Beth, and JJ with Will.

Hotch gave him a look and a nod pointing to Y/N’s table. It was time.

He built up courage, got closer to the table and reached his hand so she could take it. Without hesitation, she took it. He started to walk to the dance floor.

He held her close. Was like a dream. And they started to dance.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” She said to him, in a low voice.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.” Spencer told her.

“Well, I know a lot about you, but this one specifically wasn’t in my radar.” She ended.

They kept slow dancing for several songs, making small conversations between some comfortable silence moments. It wasn’t weird, they could almost talk through their eyes.

Until she decided to talk again.

“I’m probably leaving.” She said really low and slow.

“What do you mean? You can’t leave.” He wasn't expecting this type of news.

“It’s only for a time.” She wasn't looking at him.

“Why?” He was confused, wasn’t she happy with the team?

���Emily recommended me to the Interpol for a special training. Apparently one of the asistans from the lecture I gave, it’s interested in me teaching their team on explosive objects. Derek also sent a letter, endorsing my knowledge in the topic.” She finished.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He really wanted to know, they were supposed to be close.

“I didn’t knew. They just told me this morning. I’m still thinking about it. Hotch and Rossi already knew, and are encouraging me to take it. But first I wanted to ask you, what did you think about ir.” Oh, that was it.

“Is my opinion that important?” Maybe they were more than close friends. 

“You are the closest friend I have, in my personal and professional life. Most of the time, you are my teammate.” She spoke. 

The next few songs were danced in silence, she kept her head close to his body listening to his heartbeat. What could he tell her? It was a great chance for her. He wasn't going to stop her professional growth.

“You should take it.” He finally spoke his mind.

“Really?” She finally looked at him.

“You are amazing at doing your work. It would be a waste of your talent not taking this opportunity.” It was the truth. 

“But it's a long time, and I'm going to be away from home and alone, and without you.” It sounded like she wouldn't take the chance of being far away trying new things.

“It's only two months, even though I’m not a big fan of technology, we can video call each other whenever you want. You already know I have a non average sleep schedule or even we can message all day.” 

He promised, now they were close, he took one more chance to hold her back in his arms as close as possible for the time they had before her departure.

+1 turning their cheek to get the other one to give them a peck

After being gone for more than two months, thanks to the fact that she was required for a special task outside the country (by Emily's and Derek's recommendation), she was finally back with the team.

He was waiting, with her favorite coffee, pastry and a flower plushie (he knew she was allergic to them, or at least the ones of this season). 

They talked every single day since she was gone. He knew all the things she did overseas. But he wanted to know about them again, even if he repeated them in his thoughts every time after they ended talking, he needed  to see her face in real life while talking and to get lost in her eyes. 

He couldn’t explain how he felt about her. She was more than a colleague, more than a teammate, more than a friend and he believed more than her soulmate. 

During this time afar, he realized what truly was to care for a person, even when they were not physically together. It was the same feeling he had for his mother, there was no day he didn’t speak to her, and the same thing happened with Y/N. 

While growing up, he was used to either getting ignored or being made fun of.

But she always listened to every single fact he had to say, when he talked fast about something he is passionate about, or only listened and talked to him about his thoughts.

For sure he was in love with her.

She arrived at the office, while everyone was there to welcome her back. She passed by a line of hugs and warm words. She was missed in the team.

After all the greetings,she started to look for him, she was wearing one of his sweaters he lent her for the trip, and proceeded to give him a hug. He had never received a hug as tight as the one he was experiencing. 

“I missed you so much, Spencer.” She said with an almost inaudible voice while burying her face in his sweater while catching his scent.

“I missed you even more.” He told her, while topping her head.

“Even if we talked every single day I was gone?” She looked directly into his eyes.

“It’s not the same, a screen can’t take a chance than talking to your pretty face.” He was smiling.

“Oh, Spencer.” She whispered close to his cheek ready to give him a peck, she was the only one allowed to do it.

It was now or never.

He turned around.

It was a small peck. And he looked delighted.

“I'm so sorry Spencer.” She said, astonished. While looking at him with those beautiful startled eyes.

“I'm not.” He said back, getting another peck from her. This time she was also smiling, but stayed silent. “If you want me to stop, please tell me something,”

She shut him down with a proper kiss. 

“The kid finally did it.” Rossi muttered to Hotch.

“He took his time.” He said while smiling. Everyone knew they eventually ended up together.

From the other side of the room, their teammates were giggling at the young ones.

“Well, it’s sad I have to break it to you, but we have a case. To the round table.” Said Hotch from his office, getting close to Spencer while giving him a palm to his back.

“Oh, come on Hotch, let the love birds have a little more time.” Said Derek getting close to Spencer and giving a small side hug to the both of them.

“Come on, we have work to do.” Spencer said, giving her a last small kiss, and started to hold her hand while starting walking. “You are never ever leaving my side, ok?”

“Ok.” She couldn't believe it. She was amazed with what just happened. 

There was no better welcome back.

Back in his arms. 

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! As I told you before, I'm in my Criminal Minds Era, so this is the second time Im writting about this!I wanted to post if before my +10 hours flight to my Holiday Vacation! Its probably the last thing I'm writting/posting this year related to an original work. I was feeling inspired this days. I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

#to read

[itstheimperfectwriter]

munch! spencer, reader with migraine, spencer reads something about how orgasms can help with pain

꩜ warning!: this post is +18!!! mdni!

꩜ word count: 1.6k (got a little carried away;-;)

꩜ A/N: honestly i don't rlly like this but hopefully it's good enough :,)

You let out a quiet groan in pain as you squinted your eyes at the tv, trying to watch your favourite show but the light from the screen only made your throbbing headache worse, to the point it was almost unbearable.

"Another migraine?" Spencer asked quietly from the other end of the sofa as he looked up from his book, keeping his voice low so as to not make it any worse. You just nodded, holding your head in your hand and letting your eyes close, feeling slight relief from the light no longer beaming into your eyes.

You didn't get migraines all that often but when you did they could be pretty bad and Spencer hated seeing you in pain and hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it even more, or so he thought. He'd spent hours researching ways to alleviate your pain after your last migraine, which got so bad that it practically debilitated you and you couldn't do anything but sit in a darkened room for hours until it passed.

After reading countless articles and blogs a unanimous opinion was that an orgasm relieves a large amount of the pain, one woman going as far to say that hers was completely gone afterwards. Honestly the remedy was a complete win-win, he'd be able to help you and make you feel better and he'd also get to do his absolute favourite thing at the same time, which just so happened to be eating you out.

"Do you want me to help?" Spencer suggested, laying his book down on your coffee table and turning to face you, a slightly excited feeling bubbling in his chest.

"Remember nothing worked last time, Spence" you murmured, sighing at the realisation that you'd probably end up back in your bedroom, cocooned under blankets for your unforeseeable future. You felt Spencer shift closer to you and you could practically feel the excitement radiating from him, knowing that meant he'd found some scientific way to help you and wanted to try it.

"I researched a lot about migraines and how to help you since the last one and the method that came up almost every time was that a sexual release would alleviate a large amount of the pain and i was thinking maybe..." he didn't even have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was thinking, as soon as he uttered the word "sexual" you knew what he had in mind.

"You seriously think it'll work?" Your tone was hopeful and you were prepared to try anything at this point, feeling your pain slowly worsen the more time went on. you'd tried almost every other remedy you'd been suggested by friends and nothing had worked even a little and painkillers did nothing for you no matter how many you took.

"It's worth a try," Spencer smiled, resting his hand on your lower back. you knew he wasn't just doing this for himself, it was just convenient that he loved nothing more than to be buried between your legs.

"Alright, but if this doesn't work I'm not gonna be happy" you were only half serious, you were happy to let Spencer run his little experiment, considering that if it did work, you'd both not have a migraine anymore and would have had an incredible orgasm, so either way, you got something out of the experience.

You watched as Spencer moved to turn off the TV, leaving just a lamp on so that it was light enough that he could still see but dark enough that it wouldn't hurt your head so much.

You quickly hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pants, lifting your hips to tug them down over your ass and slide them down your legs, kicking them to the side to deal with later as Spencer moved to eagerly kneel in front of you, placing his hands behind your knees and leaning down to press a chaste kiss just above your left knee.

You smiled as you slowly spread your legs apart, watching Spencer's eyes glint with anticipation. You already knew the drill—moving to place your legs over his shoulders the way he liked it and shifting forward on the sofa to give him better access.

Spencer didn't waste any time with teasing, reminding himself that this wasn't for him, no matter how much he enjoyed it; this was an attempt to alleviate your pain.

You let out a sigh as you felt his warm tongue lick a bold stripe up your folds before he circled your clit, moaning quietly at your taste that he'd grown to love so much.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he buried his face deeper into you, urging your thighs apart to lap at your pussy, your quiet whines and moans egging him on as he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking at your sensitive nub, the stimulation making you twitch and grip his hair tighter, rolling your hips into his face as you let your head fall back against the couch.

Spencer wrapped his hands around your thighs as he nuzzled his face into you, making sure to get as close as possible to you so that he could dip his tongue into your entrance. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing into you causing you to arch your back, a loud gasp falling from your lips, your migraine long forgotten.

"F-fuck spence," you whined as you tugged on his hair desperately, letting yourself grind into his mouth. Spencer continued his ministrations on your sensitive cunt, drinking in everything you had to give him with pleasure as he whined into your wantonly.

You felt Spencer push one of your legs to the side, and instantly you got the message, lifting your leg to sling it over the arm of the couch to give him access. You couldn't help but gasp when you felt his middle and index fingers prod at your entrance, teasing your hole briefly before he began slowly sliding them in. The copious amount of saliva and your arousal making it easy.

"Oh, f-fuck!" you moaned out as you felt his fingertips curl right into your g-spot, the mixture of his mouth on your clit and his fingers pressing right into that spot that made your toes curl, making your mind go completely blank as you whimpered and moaned, his name falling from your lips in breathy gasps.

Spencer began massaging his fingers into your g-spot, drawing needy moans from your lips as he brought you closer to your release, revelling in the way you moaned his name and the way that your walls clenched around his fingers.

You got completely lost in the pleasure as you rutted your hips into his face, gripping his hair harshly and pushing his face into you. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tighten as you squirmed and shuddered, the feeling of Spencer's fingers nonstop stimulating your sensitive spot making you a needy mess.

"C-close! 'm close, Spence." Your voice was high-pitched and whiny as you warned him, Spencer only pushing his fingers harder into you, the action pulling a loud moan from your throat as your body began to shake and tremble.

You couldn't help but sling your leg back over Spencer's shoulder, letting your thighs clench around his head as you felt your orgasm approaching. Spencer's tongue never letting up his brutal sucking and licking on your clit, sending shockwaves through your body.

Spencer began moaning and whining into you, the sounds sending vibrations through your sensitive cunt and making you cry out in pleasure as your breath came out in gasps and huffs, your whole body tending as you felt your release dangerously close.

"G-god spence, I'm gonna c-cum!" You practically wailed with no regard for how loud you were being, letting out a constant slew of desperate noises when Spencer massaged your soft spot more precisely, coaxing you to your release as he sucked harshly on your clit.

Spencer let out an especially loud moan as you tugged on his hair, the intense vibrations sending you over the edge as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your whole body shaking and writhing as your release gushed around Spencer's fingers that continued to curl into you, coaxing you through your orgasm while he gently licked at your clit.

You were breathing heavily and still shaking slightly when Spencer slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, wincing slightly as his skin dragged against your sensitive walls. You watched as he buried his fingers in his mouth, cleaning off your release like he always did, sighing at the taste before he pulled them out and leaned back in, dipping his tongue into your slit to lap up everything he could, not daring to waste any of it.

Spencer leaned his cheek on your knee when he was satisfied, looking up at you through his lashes as you lay completely fucked out with your eyes closed, a beautifully content expression on your face.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, watching as you cracked your eyes open and furrowed your brows, scanning around the room and sitting up slightly, a smile spreading across your lips as you looked back down at him.

"I feel...great?!" You laughed slightly, completely fascinated by the effectiveness but also relieved that you'd found something that worked, both for you and for him. Spencer couldn't hide the wide smile that adorned his lips. He was overjoyed that his method worked as he pressed gentle kisses up your leg before he situated himself beside you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and sighing.

"i'm glad" 

(dookie ass ending again ik</3 i need to work on that :,)

#to read

[itstheimperfectwriter]

That Damn Book. || (S.R)

pairing: Spencer!Reid x GN!reader

summary: You’re Garcias friend, and she had lent you a book mere weeks ago, not aware of her intentions for this just yet, you were soon to find out..

warning(s?): Swearing. No clue if that’s actually classified as a warning, but if it is, there we go..

Penelope Garcia. A hardworking, smart, sickeningly sweet woman. A woman you were more than happy to call your friend, nay, your best friend. You and Penelope had met, and instantly bonded over your shared fascination for cats.

Penelope Garcia was your dearest friend. Something else that you found out about her almost immediately was that she works for the FBI, and is a part of the BAU, aka ‘The Behavioral Analysis Unit’. She’s their Tech Analyst, and you’d be surprised, even though she has to go through seeing all of the absolutely gruesome things on those screens, she’s always walking around with her sweet, sweet smile.

That’s another thing that drew you to her even more. Being able to do the things she does, and still walk around with a smile? It’s absolutely bewildering, not even you can, and you work with animals. Soft, cuddly animals. Not even you can go around smiling like that, but her? She does it so swiftly, with such glee. It’s absolutely fascinating.

About two and a half weeks ago Penelope had lent you a book. Normally, you would’ve already read the book, since she’s always trying to find new books for you to read every now and then, but you’ve already read them. This time, although. You haven’t even seen this book before. This was all new to you, Garcia giving you a book you haven’t read was very, and I mean, very rare.

Usually she picks up really well known classics. Or, well- in your opinion they’re classics. Books like “The Fisher King”, and “The Collector”. Books you grew up to love, as your father apparently had owned a bookstore before he had passed. He passed a month before your birth, and you felt the need to read every book on that man’s bookshelf. You barely got halfway, but that’s beside the point.

The point is that you’ve read many good, classic books in your lifetime. Yet, you haven’t even read this one. She seemed more than excited when she had found out that you hadn’t read it before. “What!? You’re serious? I- now you gotta read the book!!!” She was more than just happy to give this to you, even though it seemed like it was her favorite book by the way she had acted over this topic.

Then again, this surprised you. Garcia definitely was just picking books before, classics. One’s displayed as classics in your local bookstore, but this, this one was different. This one seemed like it had come from a reader, like it wasn’t Garcia at all. But, after all, she is your best friend! Might as well just give it a read, what harm will it do you anyway?

A week had passed, you’d been swamped with work, and with your personal life, but also you’d been swamped with this book. Lord, has it taken up your time. Well, as much free time as you had, and if you’re being honest, you hadn’t had much of any.

This book would’ve been done by now, and added to your bookshelf, it was a short book, only a hundred and thirty-eight pages in length. On the shorter side, but- work had been kicking your ass, so it’s not you to blame, but your boss.

Eventually, the long week had come to a halting, crashing, very tiring end. You’d finally gotten a day off, and this was finally the time you could sit down and read this book that you’d just been longing to read for the entirety of the week. You had been in comfy clothes, reclining on the couch. Your face finally in this very beautifully written book, until you were sorely interrupted by a knock at your apartment door.

You groaned, saved your place in the book, and gotten up off of your couch, walking over to the door to see who could possibly show up at your apartment at 9 o ‘clock on a Saturday night. You peeped through the teeny, tiny peephole of your apartment door to see Garcia standing there eagerly, with a great big Garcia smile plastered on her face.

You sigh softly, and opened the door. Garcia stood there in a bright pink dress with an enormous smile on her face, although the moment she saw you, she frowned, “Honey!! Why aren’t you dressed up? It’s a Saturday!!” She had looked genuinely distraught. “Hm? Oh, today’s my day off,” I said softly “this is the one day I figured I could get to actually reading this book you had lent me!” I said with a smile.

The frown hadn’t left her face, “No, hun. You’re getting ready , cmon. Me and my coworkers are going out for drinks tonight!! You’re not going to stay in on a Saturday, nope, nada. Not on my watch. Cmon, get ready!! We’ve gotta be there in twenty minutes. Chip chop!!”

Twenty minutes!? Never mind twenty minutes, her coworkers? You haven’t met her coworkers in your almost two years of friendship. Usually you would care, you’d have a grudge. But it was Penelope, she works for the FBI. Of course there’s a reason behind her not wanting you to meet her friends, of course there was.

You couldn’t have just gone all these years cause she thought they wouldn’t like you, no, of course not. It’s cause of her job description. She’s a straightforward type of gal. Work stays at work, home stays at home. You never had issues with that, until now.

Now you’re thinking about it, you can stop thinking about it and you have to get ready!? Shit. You don’t own anything business casual, yes it’s drinks, but you’re also meeting your best friend in the whole world’s coworkers. Oh my god. You’re pacing nervously, but just end up going with jeans, a t shirt and a hoodie.

It’s cold in Virginia in this type of weather, or course. You don’t bother to do anything with your makeup, as you only own mascara, but you brush through your hair, spray on perfume, and walk out of your bedroom door. That’s when she shrieked.

She was in disbelief almost, “What!? Jeans and a T shirt? Y/n, I mean... You can pull it off better than anyone I’ve ever seen try to. Eh, it’s good enough!!! Cmon let’s go, get your shoes on cmon!!” She was absolutely ecstatic. For more than one reason, too. She was more than happy to go out and see her coworkers, but also happy for them to finally meet you, as she’s always talking about you

She eventually drags you out of your apartment and into her car, and drives you both to the bar that her coworkers were meeting. You had gotten out of the car, and grabbed your bag. Why bring your bag? Don’t you only need your phone!? Yeah. Usually, you’d only bring your phone, but you’re definitely not overly social, you’re in your mid twenties, you had to bring that book. This isn’t really your thing.

You walked with Garcia into the bar, and she gravitated towards the smallish group in the back, there was about five of them sitting at a larger table, the minute they had seen Garcia, they all waved, inviting her over to the table.

Then for just a second you forgot you were with her. “Okay, guys!! This is my friend who I’ve been telling you guys about for what is it, two years now? Yeah! Two years,” she smiled “their names y/n,” she pointed at you, and then the team “y/n, team, team, y/n!!”

They all had waved, and smiled at you, they all introduced themselves to you. Their names were Morgan, which you already had known who he was, Garcia always talks about her team, but him mostly. There was also Rossi, Hotchner, Prentiss, and JJ. They were all very kind, and welcoming. More welcoming than you would’ve thought.

Something was off, though. She said including her, the team was seven members, and you had only met seven. You shrugged it off until you had seen a taller, lengthy man in a cardigan roll out of the bathroom and walk over to the teams table. Garcia smirked, “Oh! Yes, y/n this is boy genius, Reid. Reid, this is Y/n.”

He then smiled, “Ah. Yes, the infamous Y/n. Nice to meet you, Y/n, as Garcia already had stated I’m Reid, Doctor Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid.” He had smiled, obviously proud of the amount of PhD’s he’d received . You had reached your hand out to shake his, as a friendly gesture.

He has immediately shrieked when you tried to reach for his hand, “Yeah, sorry I don’t shake hands. The amount of pathogens shared in a handshake is more than shared in a kiss, so- I’m not all for handshakes, sorry.” You smiled, turning a light pink.

“Oh, that’s my bad. Well, as Penelope had told you, and apparently the rest of the team, I’m Y/n. Y/n Y/ln. Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You said with a smile. He had then nodded and then schooched his way into the booth, as had you. You were seated next to Penelope.

She had smiled and then whispered something to you, “He’s a germaphobe. Don’t worry too much about the man. He’s all smarts, no risk of infection.” She chuckled, and so did you. He seemed nice, though, and so did the rest of the team. They truly seemed like sweet people.

An hour or so had passed, and the team were all talking to each other while you had told Penelope you went to get a drink, you just needed to get fresh air from the new people. Not that the team was bad, no. They were sweet as can be. Just, people aren’t the thing you’re best at.

You were sat at the bar, reading the book your dear friend had lent you just mere weeks ago, it’s not normal for a book this short to last you this long, if you’re being honest. You were so deep into the book, you didn’t quite really feel or hear much going on around you, until you were snapped out of it, someone had tapped you on the shoulder.

You immediately had turned around, surprised. To your shock it was the one, and only ‘Doctor Spencer Reid’. “Good book.” he had said, just two mere words. “Hm?” you had said, confused, wondering why he’d come over here to comment on the book you were trying to read. “Oh, I was just saying. Lovely book, is it not?” you nodded. “First time read?” you nodded again, “Classic.”, you’d looked at him like he had two heads.

“Classic- Like it’s a classic, you know? It’s quite the good book, if you weren’t reading it as of now, I would’ve recommended it to you if I had known you were a reader, yourself.” he said, now sitting next to you. “Oh, yeah. It’s pretty good.” you smiled. “Why’d you decide to read it? I, personally just really like books so I read about every piece of literature I can get my hands on-“ you cut him off, pointing in the general direction of Penelope.

He cocked his head to the side, confused. “Garcia? Penelope Garcia? Recommending ‘The narrative of John Smith’? There’s no way-“ you shrugged, “She’s always giving me books, she does it, and often. Usually, I’ve read the book, but this time I hadn’t.” he nodded, and then asked a rather odd question. “When did she… recommend it to you?”

It was silent for a moment, until you had finally remembered the answer to his question just seconds later. “About.. a little over a week I’d say. Why?” he sighed. “I showed it to her a week ago. She’s always asking what I’m reading- so I show her.” your eyes widened. “You!? This is why she recommends me books? You’re serious?”

He shrugged. “I’m almost certain it’s me. I’m a reader, and by the way you act when you’re in the general vicinity of a book, so are you.” you nodded in agreement, “Yeah, but, but, why? I mean what’s the reasoning? She could look up classic books. Why do they have to come from you?”

If he was honest, he didn’t know. He had a general idea, but you didn’t. He didn’t want to weird you out when you barely even knew the man. Although, he did feel as though he should mention his thoughts to you, as it could lead to more insight on this topic. “I think I just may know why she’s doing this. Don’t you?” you shook your head no.

He sighed. “She’s setting us up. I’m almost certain. You’ve seen her do it with other people, right?” you nodded, smiling, “Yeah! Yeah,” you chuckled “she’s been doing it with others for as long as I can remember, just never with me. She knows I’ll be upset if she even were to try to set something like this up. Why would she do this all of a sudden?”

“All of a sudden?” Reid asks, you nod. “No, no” he says “not ‘all of a sudden’ she’s been giving you recommendations for what, months?” you nod again. “Sounds like her,” you say in a lower tone “can’t even be mad, though.” you add.

He looks at you like you’ve got two heads. “Can’t even be mad? You just went on about how you’ve warned the woman if she’d try to set you up. Why the sudden change, Y/n?” you chuckle, smiling softly.

“I don’t know, boy genius. Wanna tell me?”

A/N: spoilers for later seasons: anyways ignore the fact that this is the book that maeve gave reid…. UHHHH. no, but i suck at writing leaving that at that.

#to read

[itstheimperfectwriter]

You know I enjoy something when I actually draw. Here are all my best friends beautiful eyes. I am very normal about this game.

inspired by this edit and this artwork

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

[itstheimperfectwriter]

𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader warnings: not proofread, some tough love, mentions of drug abuse words: 713 summary: Spencer needed help and if no one else was going to help him you would.

masterlist

It wasn't the hardest to see the change in Spencer after his time with Tobias. How on edge he seemed, snapping at people for the most minor offences. How uncaring of the feelings of those around him, saying whatever he wished. Everyone tried to turn the other cheek knowing the pain and despair he must be in. But they could only allow the infractions to go on for so long before they grow tired of it.

Everyone knew what exactly was going on, everyone could see the signs. Yet no one wished to acknowledge that it was happening. Maybe if they forgeined ignorance then it wouldn't be true, it would just silently go away and no one would have to worry about it.

But you couldn't, you couldn't keep turning a blind eye, watching the pain he was in. You couldn't stand by as he destroyed himself. That's what brought you to his front door, a bag full of flyers and hand banging loudly on his door. You weren't leaving until you got through to him.

It wasn't long before the door opened, the wood replaced with Spencer's exhausted features. Before he could even open his mouth to question why you were there you pushed passed him. Entering his house like you owned the place instead of simply visiting. A small grumble was heard from the man behind you as the door shut once more.

His annoyance did little to against the determination flowing through you, turning to face him you spoke. "I know." Confusion washed over the lanky man's features, unsure of what you meant. You had bargained into his house after nagging on the door like someone was chasing you, one to declare you knew something.

"You're using." You clarified taking note of his confusion, faked or not you didn't care. You wanted to rip the bandaid off, not give him time to try and snake out of it or distract you. You knew he was smarter than you and with a few words, he could throw you off the course you have been set on.

Spencer's features morph into an expression you couldn't describe before hardening, his face unreadable to what he was thinking. "I don't know what you're talking about." The denial of what was happening was weak, you both knew the truth. "God Spencer, I'm not stupid, I can see it. Everyone can. We're worried." There was a tone of anguish in your voice, pleading with him to just give up and let you help.

"I've got it under control." The words pulled a scoff from you as you shook your head. "But you don't do you? Because if you did, I wouldn't have noticed." There was a tone of desperation to your words as you tried to get through to him. He knows you are here out of the car for him, worried that this may escalate. But he didn't need the help, at least he didn't think he did.

You take a few steps towards him, hand reaching out to grab him in a firm but careful hold. You half expected him to rip his hand from yours and tell you to leave, spitting some harsh words on your way out. It was what he had seemingly been doing too very. Yet, he didn't instead just watched you for a few moments.

"Just... go to a meeting, please. If you don't help if you don't want the team to get their noses into it." With you're free hand you reach into your bag, pulling out a handful of crumpled flyers. Extending them towards him in the hopes he would grab them and at least skim over them. You didn't wish to watch him destroy himself, to get a call that his body had been found somewhere.

You watched his hand reach out, expecting him to take the flyer yet instead you were pulled into a hug. A bone-crushing one as Spencer's arms pin you to him. For a moment you are frozen, but quickly you return the hug with the same force. "Thank you," The words were so soft you almost missed them, the slient acceptance of your help and the admittance that he had a problem.

"Of course, I love you." "...I love you too."

[itstheimperfectwriter]

Hi! Tw: sh. Would you be willing to write a Jordan li x fem reader one shot where they bicker a lot (maybe like academic rivals or something) but then Jordan some how finds out that reader self harms (maybe like sees some cuts when a sleeve moves or something if they’re sparring or during class?) and so they put their bickering and rivalry aside to make sure that she gets help? If not no worries but I thought I’d ask/put it out into the universe

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request, I'm so excited to fulfil it. I hope it's up to standard and what you are looking for

pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader warnings: not proofread, mentions of self-harm words: 909 summary: basically the ask

masterlist

It was well known within Goldukin that the two biggest rivals were you and Jordan Li. You two had been neck and neck from the beginning, always switching places in the ranking, always trying to one-up another in classes. It was getting exhausting just watching you two go back and forth trying to outsmart the other while half the people around you had no clue what you were talking about.

Jordan was always one to bicker, correcting you with that stupid smug grin, showing off their test scores with a mocking pout. It was infuriating, but just as much as they annoyed you, you annoyed them. How you seemed to effortlessly know everything, how you had such control of your powers, how you so easily gave their snarky words right back at them. You took up so much space in their mind that the only way not to admit it was love was to believe it was hate.

Hate because you were seemingly everything they were not. You were so put together, you had it all brains and beauty. Only a fool would not be jealous of you, and Jordan Li was no fool. In their mind, they believed that you too hated them, for being such a large obstacle on your path to the top. But even someone so smart could be so wrong.

It was hard trying to be the best, to get perfect scores, to have such control over your powers, to be liked by so many. It consumed every moment, not even in sleep could you escape the stress. Your body began to feel it, losing hair, bags under your eyes, losing sleep. It made you feel horrible, a shell of yourself, an imposter parading around people much better than you. There was no time to rest, no time for a moment to consider your mental health, not when a single mishap could spell you losing it all.

Despite the stress of your life, the stress Jordan added to it unknowingly. You held deep feelings for them, feelings you did not want to classify as love, so instead you believed it to be disdain. There was no room in your life for love, for friends, for parties, for every waking moment was spent obsessing about your scores.

You can’t remember when it started, perhaps by accident, perhaps on purpose in a desperate attempt to find a release. But you remember when you couldn’t stop, not when it allowed the stress and heartache to leave you for a moment. It was like a drug, consuming your mind and body, a compulsion to do it, to harm yourself. It was a disease that you didn’t have a cure for.

Hiding this was something you had to fine art, you hand various jackets, gloves, long sleeve shirts to wear. No one bated the eyes at what you wore, why would they? It was all perfectly normal, there was no reason to think you were hiding the thing you were most ashamed of under a thin piece of cloth. 

It was by complete accident that Jordan saw the scars, the movement of your hand reaching up to grab something exposing them just enough for them to figure out what they were. For a moment they did not wish to believe it, that someone so put together like you was secretly falling apart. That the scars they saw weren’t from a cat or botched training session. But instead done purposely by your hand, that you would subject yourself to that pain. Was it because you believed you deserved it? Was it a release of sorts? A way to escape the pressure?

Their hand was so gentle as it grasped your wrist, eyes big and full of worry as your own met theirs. Just as confusion was clear on your face, sorrow was clear on theirs. You racked your brain trying to figure out what may cause this large shift in Jordan, no longer bickering or scoffing at you but instead looking at you like you had destroyed a beautiful artwork. In a small way you did, for to them, you were the closest thing they had come to an angle. They believed you were untouchable, above it all. But even angels fall sometimes.

There was a long moment of pause as Jordan struggled to find the right words to say, and how to approach the topic. Yet, there was only one question they could think of asking. “Why? Why would you do this to yourself?” Their voice was soft, body close to yours as their hand still delicately held your wrist. For a moment you are confused by the question before you pale and a sense of dread fills you. You could deny it, swear up and down that they are mistaken. But what was the point? The evidence was there and Jordan knew.

“I-I…” Your voice turns watery as you think of an answer, just something to say in your defence. But tears spring to your eyes, yet to fall and trail down your cheeks. A small ‘tsk’ leaves Jordan as they pull you into an embrace. Your hands grip their clothing as though they would disappear and Jordan wonders how long this has been going on, how long you have felt this way. But they know now and come hell or high water they would help you.

“It’s okay, we’ll get you some help. I’m not going anywhere.”

[itstheimperfectwriter]

𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader x Marie Moreau warnings: not proofread words: 1324 summary: rude words about your relationship result in a fight

masterlist

Having two partners was not common, many people believed it to be weird and unnatural. Which is rather rich coming from people who have powers because their parents wanted them to be experimental rats. Dating both Jordan and Marie has its ups and downs like all relationships, but it is mainly the external comments that put a strain on the relationship.

While most people either didn't care or were receptive to the news, a select few just found it too damning to move on from. When it came out it was known that some people would not take the news kindly, that snide remarks and looks would be thrown at you. But it didn't matter, because you were all together and happy.

You had been having a shit day from the jump, forgetting to hand in an assignment, dropping your lunch on the floor, and being late to most of your classes to name a few. You had not seen your partners all day and all you wished to do was curl up in one of their dorms and watch cheesy movies. But you all had obligations and unfortunately, you were all too dedicated to your work to just bail.

Walking to your final class of the day felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, one more class and this was over, you could go home and rot under the covers of your bed. Yet, a shrill voice has you stopping in your tracks, overhearing a conversation you were sure wasn't meant for your ears.

"Look, I just don't get it. I mean two girlfriends, or is it a girlfriend and a boyfriend? Y'know I just can't keep up. But isn't it enough? How much of a whore do you have to be? Everyone knows it's just to get ahead."

You didn't have to be a genius to know who the girl was talking about. It was not the first time you have had venomous words thrown at you for your relationship, it seemed to come with the territory. Most of the time you find it best to turn the other cheek, try and ignore them and not give them the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. But added with you're shitty day it was just all too much to ignore any longer.

Marie calling out your name was met with deaf ears as all you could think about was putting this bitch in your place. Within a swift moment, you were stopping up to her hand out to grab her shoulder. The sudden touch startled her for a moment, and she turned to see it with a disinterested look on her face. Only to be met with the harsh bone of your knuckles.

The initial contact was to her cheek, the force splitting the skin slightly. You didn't say anything as your arms wrapped around her and threw her to the ground with your body weight. You knew opening your mouth to say something was useless for you were too mad to form any words. You straddled the girl's waist as another hand came down on her face, blood sprouting from her nose coating your fist and the front of her shirt.

Before you have to chance to hit her again a burning sensation spreads along your arm, the girl's feeble attempt to get you off of her. The skin burned under her hand, her free hand shooting out to rip her hand off your arm. Before you could begin your assault once more this time for the wound she had given you and her nasty words, you were pulled off of her.

You stubble for a moment as you are pulled to stand up, the girl on the floor withering in pain from your hits. Breathing heavily you look down at the girl, glaring harshly at her. "Keep your mouth shut about my fucking relationship." Your words are filled with venom and basically spat at the girl on the floor. The burn on your arm is a dull pain due to the adrenaline, but the pain slowly intensifies.

"(Y/N), what the fuck." Marie's shocked fill voice reaches your ears as she stands behind you, concern etched into her features at what you have done. Whipping around to face her your words die in your throat, and the disappointment in her ears has a terrible feeling curl around in your stomach. "I-I...-" "Holy shit, your arm." Marie's touch is soft as she moves forward gently taking your arm into her hands, eyes scanning over the handprint burned into your arm.

The pain from the burn rushes to you as your eyes land on the injury, the charred skin and the ugly red colour. You feel yourself getting tugged along, the fight forgotten until the aftermath comes to bite you in the ass later. Neither Marie nor you say anything until you arrive at her dorm, the door clicking shut behind you as Marie sits you on the couch.

There is not a word is say as she begins to tend to your burn, applying burn cream to the injury and wrapping it gently. Though she attempted not to cause you any more pain it was inevitable, hisses and whinces pushing past your lips. Shame feels your body as you rationally begin to think about what happened. You shouldn't have blown up like that. Maybe the girl's words warranted a reaction but not a physical one. Your mind raced with what Marie could possibly be thinking as she carefully cleaned up the blood from your knuckles.

A knock at the door pulls Marie from your side, getting up to open it and let the person in. Jordan enters the room quickly, bag slung over their shoulder, it was clear they had left class for this. At the realisation, you could not help the guilt that wrapped around your heart. Looking at the pair standing in front of you, you opt to speak, to try and quell the emotions brewing.

"I don't know what came over me. I couldn't stand there and listen to her talk about us like that, I moved before I thought." Your explanation was weak, a feeble attempt to get the pair in front of you to say something so you could gauge their reactions. Instead of words of disappointment and disgust being thrown at you like you felt you deserved. Jordan wordlessly came to sit by your side.

"Does it hurt?" Jordan's words brought a small frown of confusion to your face, unsure what they were talking about as you did not expect them to say that. "Your arm," They say, glancing down at the bandages that hide the nasty mark, it would no doubt leave a scar. "Y-yeah, quite a bit actually." Your response is soft as you watch Jordan's finger ghost over the white bandages. The couch dips on your other side alerting you to Marie sitting down.

"What you did was so fucking stupid. What if you got more injuries? If I wasn't there to pull you away?" Marie's voice draws your attention, eyes moving from Jordan to her. You could see the concern for you in her eyes as her hand reached to grab yours pulling it onto her lap. Her thumb soothingly passed over your knuckles as you spoke. "You didn't hear what she said. I'm so fucking sick of people just saying shit about us. I just... I just wanted her to shut up."

A small hum is pulled from Marie as she brings your hand up to her lips to place a small kiss on it. "I don't care what people say about me, because I have you two. You care about everyone else." You knew she was right, the love you all hold for each other should be the only thing that matters but sometimes words can cut deep.

There was a small pause before Jordan spoke up, hands snaking into yours as they wrapped their other arm around your shoulders. "Did you at least win?" It pulls a small laugh from you and Marie before you answer. "Oh yeah, I kicked her ass."

[itstheimperfectwriter]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader warnings: not proofread words: 692 summary: cold weather = a small cute moment with Jordan

masterlist

With Winter only a few weeks away the weather had become increasingly colder. No longer could people get away with just wearing a t-shirt, the cold nip in the air raising goosebumps all along the skin. The need to wear a jacket had become increasingly more obvious but some people simply did not care. They would rather bear the brunt of the cold than wear an uncomfortable jacket that makes them look like a snowman.

It was not that you were against wearing jackets, the added warmth they provided and the comfort they had. It was just you did not think you would need one, the past few days had been warm enough to forgo the wear of a jacket so you assumed today would be too. Unfortunately, the weather seemed to like to play cruel tricks as the weather plummeted from a nice sunny morning to a cloudy and windy afternoon.

It was hard to ignore the chill that seeped into your bones, the rising bumps in your skin and the way no matter how many times you rub your arms up and down you could not get warm. It wouldn't have been much of a bother if you could just go inside and sit next to a heater for the next 5 hours. But you had promised to meet Jordan and that was something you weren't going to cancel.

It was how you found walking down the street trying to keep your teeth from chattering too loud as Jordan ranted about one thing or another. You would offer small hums or words of agreement to try and show you were listening, but your mind was too focused on the icy wind.

"You're not even listening are you?" Jordan's words brought you to a stop, lips pulled down in a frown as you looked over at them. There was a hint of hurt and annoyance in their tone, something you could not blame them for. "No, I am." You answer in your defence, hands moving from your arms to Jordan's hand. The sentiment allowed the wind to gain purchase on the once-covered flesh causing a shiver to run down your spine.

The movement did not go unnoticed by Jordan who studied you for a moment trying to get to the bottom of things. It took them only a few seconds before they came up with an explanation. "You're cold." It wasn't said like a question but more as a statement like they knew it from just watching you for a few moments.

"Cold? No, I'm fine. You were talking about something Andre said, something about a party next weekend." There was a small attempt to deny Jordan's observation. For some reason, you felt the need to lie and not just agree you were cold, perhaps to continue the perception that nothing fazes you. But, Jordan was more perceptive than that, they could read you like a book.

Without a word, Jordan let go of your hand and shrugged off their jacket leaving them in just a t-shirt. "Here," they thrust their jacket to you, wanting you to take it and keep warm. But the small sense of being a burden crept up on you as you looked down at the item of clothing. "Won't you be cold?" Your eyes flick up to them to see their brown eyes already on you. It was the response they were expecting you to give, one out of concern for their own welfare. Besides your bad planning was not their problem, but they could not help the feeling of wanting you to be comfortable.

"Just take it, if you can't listen to me when you're cold then what's the point of talking?" While their words were gruff, there was an underlying caring tone to them. With a small smile, you grab their jacket a put it on, immediately covered in warmth. Zipping up the jacket you could not help but notice how it smelt like them, a fading smell of citrus.

"Thank you," You smile brightly, only receiving a small eye roll and a hint of a smile from Jordan. "Whatever, as I was saying"

[itstheimperfectwriter]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader warnings: not proofread, sexual tension, swearing, heated makeout words: 1112 summary: Jordan is a jealous person at heart, and you just love to get them riled up

masterlist

Jordan was not your partner, not someone you whisper sweet nothings to in the early morning hours. They had made it very clear that what you two had was nothing outside of sex, a way to release the pent-up stress from their day. How their eyes were drawn to you when you entered a room meant nothing. How they remember a small detail you mentioned a few weeks ago was not a sign that they cared. The sweet words they whispered to you when they thought you were asleep were not words from love.

They acted like you were nothing to them when others were around, that at night it was not your mouth pulling delicious moans from them. But, you played their game, not giving them a second glance in public, scoffing at their harsh words before giving it right back to them. From an outside view, one would think you two hated each other.

It was not unusual for your friend group to frequent nightclubs, sneaking out of the dorms after curfew for a bit of fun. The drinks were flowing, the drugs were hitting, and the person gripping your waist was an okay addition. It was not usual that you allowed a strange to basically hump you as you dance, their hands trailing dangerously over your body. But tonight you would make an expectation, just for a rise from the person at the bar.

Jordan sat at the bar, hand gripping the glass so hard that you wondered how it had not shattered yet, eyes burning a hole into the forehead of the person whispering into your neck. A sly smirk rests on your face as your eyes meet Jordan's, blowing a kiss at them hoping to get a rise. You had no intention of sleeping with this person, or allowing them to grope you like some cheap whore. Purely doing this to annoy Jordan.

You had only looked away from Jordan for a moment, turning slightly to tell your dance partner to watch their hands. Yet, within the small moment, you felt a crushing grip on your wrist, yanking you from the stranger's hands. Whipping around you're met with the angered expression of Jordan, dark eyes staring down at you with betrayal swirling in them. You almost feel guilty, but your resolve hardens once more as you rip your hand from their grip.

"Hey bitch, we were dancing here." The annoyed voice of the stranger breaks your little staring contest, pulling your attention from one another. "Not anymore dickhead, now fuck off." Jordan's voice is laced with venom, eyes hardening as they pull you closer to them. Yet, their words do not seem to deter the person who foolishly believed you were into them. "Listen, it's not my problem you can't get dicked down, don't make it other people's problem."

"Jesus, fuck off. You didn't have a fucking chance with me." Words fall from your mouth before Jordan can but in again. It seemed they were over this little back and forth with a nobody, grabbing you once more to pull you away.

The air out of the club was cold causing a shiver to run down your body as Jordan continued to pull you down the street. "Jesus Christ Jordan, you're going leave a bruise." Your words seem to pull Jordan from whatever trance they had fallen into, pulling you into a small alley for some privacy before letting you go. You begin to massage your wrist as you study Jordan, trying to get a read on what they were thinking.

"Yo-" You aren't able to get the first word out before your back meets the cold, harsh bricks of the wall behind you. Jordan's body covers yours, their face is impossibly close to yours, hand gripping the junction of your neck and chin. It sends a rush of warmth to your core as your eyes bore into theirs waiting for them to speak.

"Is this what you wanted? Hmm? Me to get upset and drag you out of there?" While the question did not need an answer you decided to give one anyway, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. "You tell me, since you acting like you've got it all figured out." Your teasing words earned you a small squeeze at your neck and their muscular thigh bullied in between your legs. It pulls a soft gasp from you before you back to teasing Jordan.

"Hit a nerve, I didn't know you cared. After all, I'm just a nice fuck to you." You spat their words from a few nights ago right back at them. It became clear in the moment that your actions were only because of what they had said in an argument, words they didn't even mean. It was just a way to get back at them. "Fucking hell, I hurt your feelings and you're giving it up to the first person to give you attention. God, you pathetic." A laugh is pulled from you as one hand flies to their crouch and the other to their hips to bring them closer.

"Says the person who dragged me out of there to fuck me in an alley. Seems you care more than you let one." Jordan's lips smash onto yours in a heated kiss, our hips grinding down on their thigh between your legs, pulling an airy moan from you. The kiss breaks after a few moments Jordan looks down at you panting slightly. "You really are stupid. Of course I care, I can't get you out of my fucking mind. All I think about anymore is you."

You can hear the honesty in their voice, the desire to have you as more than someone to fuck. A confused expression passes over you as you try to understand "Then why did you say-" Once more you are cut off by Jordan, words shooting out of their mouth "Because I was scared. I was scared you don't feel the same." There is a beat of silence before your soft laughs fill the air. "God you're stupid. Of course, I want to be more than fuck buddies with you. Jesus, just look at yourself, you're hot in both forms."

The kiss Jordan gives you is much softer than the first one, their hands moving to your cheek and waist. Breaking the kiss you smile at them before speaking "As much as I want to fuck you right now, I don't think an alley is the best place." A small chuckle is pulled from Jordan, taking a step back to offer you their hand. Happily, you take it pulling them along with a newfound purpose.

[itstheimperfectwriter]

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

pairing: Jordan Li x gn!reader (band au) warnings: not proofread words: 727 summary: a couple of rival guitarists that love hate each other? very cool

masterlist

☆ got this idea when writing my other headcannon! But imagine a rival guitarist reader from an up-and-coming band. Like you and is good but what makes them stand out is you on lead guitar.

☆ Your band enters a battle of the bands in your city and that's how you met Jordan. An uptight, 'im better than you', guitarist from a band that has been in a scene for a while. They are super popular, have a large following, and entered the competition for something to do.

☆ Ugh, they hear you playing and have the audacity to comment on your playing. Mentioning something about the riff you played or how you transition from bridge to chorus. They say it in such a condescending tone to just get a rise out of you. Smirking as you huff at them stating you don't need their input.

☆ "Your playing needs some work, your chords sounded out of tune." "Thanks, but I didn't ask." "I thought your guitar's cry for help was enough."

☆ They stand in the wings during your practices, watching you play, getting ready to pick apart your technique.

☆ Out of frustration you begin to do the same, watching them practice with a disinterested face. Commenting on how boring their playing was. Openly wondered if they were meant to play a key because it sounded so out of place.

☆ It turns into who is going to crack first, and who's going to crumble under the comments and pressure. You each watching each other just waiting for the pressure to be too much.

☆ You begin to see them outside of just practices and your performances. You've gone drinking with your band? Jordan's band happens to be there too getting drinks. You've gone to the coffee shop down the street? Jordan's already sitting there drinking an expresso

☆ It gets infuriating, your mind is just consumed with thoughts of Jordan. Not because you like them, no of course not. But because they are so infuriating with their stupid tips, their disinterest expressions, the stupid way they play the guitar and their stupid gorgeous face.

☆ What you don't know is Jordan's on the same boat. Every waking moment is thinking about you. How you play. Your music. Your body. But they do not like you! Don't get it twisted.

☆ It gets to the point your bandmates beg you to just fuck them to get this over with. They are getting sick of seeing Jordan show up to practices, stare at you the whole time and then for you two to go back and forth for 10 minutes.

☆ You are adamant that you don't like them in the slightest, that you would never ever fuck them. But your words only received a shared look from your bandmates before they just hummed.

☆ The weeks of tension explode before the night of the competition. Most bands head to a club to rid themselves of their anxieties about their performance the next day. Of course, you go to drink the night and your feelings away with your friends.

☆ It should've been obvious that Jordan would be there, dressed in an outfit that you just want to rip off. A mixture of booze and frustration has you approaching them, stalking over to them with a mission.

☆ What starts off as an argument is quick to turn into a steamy make-out session. You can't remember what the tipping point was, but you do remember simply grabbing their shirt and pulling them into a kiss to get them to shut up.

☆ In between kisses you express how much you hate them, how they have been on your mind nonstop for weeks. Your words only pull a laugh from Jordan as they squeeze your ass and bring you into another kiss.

☆ At some point you end up in their hotel room, angrily fucking on any surface until you are both too tired to continue. Lying in bed panting slightly, you tell them this means nothing. But you both know it is a lie, that a single night isn't going to stop the pure want you have for each other

☆ But for the night you pretend this is a one-off thing and in the morning you are going to kick their ass in the competition.