#the first time one of the other four call him 'pops' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sistertotheknowitall · 3 months

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“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

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rosielovesf1 · 3 months

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spilling secrets on stream | LN4

what better place to hard launch a relationship than twitch?

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none!

author's note: it's been so fun thinking up little story ideas and this is the product of one of them. fair warning that it's been forever since i've played fortnite so probably not very accurate when it comes to that 🤦‍♀️ thank youuu for reading and have a great day!!

also my requests are open if you would like to see a certain story/driver!! 🫶

“Hi guys, sorry I’m late,” Lando said, adjusting his headphones as he started the stream. There were a surprising number of people online for this Thursday afternoon, but he had posted on his story that Max would be joining him, so that could explain the popularity. Not that he would ever tell him that.

“Max is joining now.” He stretched his arms over his head, smirking when the chat quickly noticed the sliver of skin he’d exposed in the simple motion. Oops. “Is Max with you right now? No, chat, I’m in Monaco. How’s offseason? It’s good. I’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.”

Lando read through and answered a couple more questions until Max’s face popped up on his screen.

“Hello hello,” Max said, waving to the camera. “How are we, chat? What are we playing?”

After a couple minutes of debate, they decided on Fortnite. The first round was short lived- Lando got shot pretty much immediately. Now, him and Max were two of ten players remaining, but the sound of the front door opening caused him to turn his focus away from the game.

“y/n?” Lando called out after muting himself, turning away from the screen to see if his girlfriend had just arrived home.

“Bro, what are you doing?” Max protested, his character running circles around Lando’s still one. Two other characters spotted them over a nearby hill and started firing immediately, with Max left alone to defend them. “You muppet!” Within seconds, Lando had died, and Max didn’t have enough time to resuscitate him in the midst of defending himself.

“My bad.” Lando turned back to the screen, laughing at Max’s distress.

“That was entirely your fault.” Max responded, pausing to look at his phone alert from Lando.

I think y/n just got back and she doesn’t know I’m on stream. Can you stay on until I get back?

Even though Lando and his girlfriend were practically living together at this point, staying at each other’s homes almost every night during the offseason, they were yet to make it official in the eyes of the public. Max knew this better than everyone- often having to cover for the couple when they weren’t cautious enough- and smirked as he typed back a yes. Lando took that as a sign to communicate his exit. “Be right back, chat. Don’t be too mean to Max while I’m gone.”

He opened and shut the door to the room behind him, padding down the soft carpet runner of the hallway. “y/n?” Her bright pink trainers were by the front door, and seeing as he could hear the shower down the hall, she must’ve just come back from a run.

All of a sudden, music started blasting- a Doja Cat song, Lando knew from y/n's time on the aux whenever they were in the car together.

“y/n,” Lando laughed, knocking on the bathroom door, “I’m on stream darling.” It wasn’t that he minded the noise, or that the chat would know very quickly that there was a girl in his house (he wasn’t really the Doja Cat type). If it were up to him, he would’ve posted y/n the day they had made it official, four months ago. But they’d decided to wait a bit and enjoy the privacy.

No response still. He tried the bathroom door handle but it was locked. She must’ve not known he was coming home, Lando thought cheekily to himself. Otherwise, it would’ve been open. He gave up and retreated back to the room with his setup, shooting a quick text over to y/n that he was home.

Lando settled back into his chair, turning the camera on. “Alright, chat, I’m back. Sorry to leave you with Max.”

Max raised an eyebrow at the music that filtered in through Lando’s mic, choosing not to comment on it. The chat wasn’t as sly though, with every other comment questioning the source.

“Didn’t know Lando was a Doja Cat fan. I’m not.” The ambiguous comment sparked even more questions, and Lando just shook his head jokingly as they started another game. As he died for a third time, Max cursing and threatening to find someone better to play with, the music cut and the distant sound of the shower running stopped.

“Lando?” y/n called out, freezing as she read over his text in the hallway. Lando’s eyes widened and he quickly muted himself, sliding his headphones off. As he stood up he heard y/n's footsteps nearing the door and managed to shut the camera off just in time.

Lando pulled open the door and the scent of coconut and hibiscus floated in. y/n looked up at him with wide eyes in sweatpants and a stolen Quadrant t-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that you were streaming.” She peeked over his shoulder and her eyes widened at the rapidly scrolling chat, the viewers going crazy about the distinctly female voice they’d overheard. Max had given up at pretending to ignore them and had shut off his camera as well, only adding to the viewers assumptions.

He pulled her into a hug, mumbling “You smell good.” into her hair as a way of greeting. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, rocking back and forth.

“Did they hear me?”

“Yeah.” They shuffled over to the computer together, her almost afraid to read the chat that was still scrolling at a million miles a minute. Lando read out one comment that said “can Lando’s girlfriend fight?” and raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl next to him.

“Heck yeah. Look at these muscles. Try me.” She bounced back and forth on her heels, hands up in a boxing stance.

Lando laughed at her, locking her in a headlock that she quickly wiggled out of. “Not fair,” she whined. “Caught me by surprise.”

He pulled her in front of him to straighten out the locks of hair he’d mussed, and kissed her forehead before looking down at her. “What if we told them about us right now?”

“You think?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he ran a gentle thumb over it to get her to stop.

“I think they’re going to love you as much as I do.” She leaned into him at that statement, and he watched her eyes as she seemed to process his statement.

“Alright,” she still looked hesitant, but brightened up as she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m already wearing the right shirt and everything.”

“Quadrants #1 fan.” He smiled, pulling her over to the computer. They split the chair so that both of them could sit, and she draped her legs comfortably over his. He rested one hand on her thigh, using the other to restart the stream. “Ready?”

She nodded, and all of a sudden they were back online.

“Hi, chat.” Lando smiled, laughing as the comments started pouring in. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone. This is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Hi, everyone,” y/n said, sporting a smile to match her boyfriend’s. “How are you doing?”

“Finally.” Max let out a sigh, clicking his camera back on.

“Thanks for covering for us, Max.” The trio sat and talked for a little bit, y/n answering questions for her from the chat that Lando pointed out every once in a while. They eventually turned the game back on, y/n holding her own and often outranking Max and Lando. In the midst of waiting for a new game to load, Lando wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her side.

“I’m so glad I get to show you off now.”

@landonorris: kiss me more 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

@y/nl/n: cat’s out of the bag 🤭

#f1 fanfic #f1 x y/n #mclaren f1 #f1 fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader

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moondirti · 1 month

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simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway.#simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

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rileyslibrary · 9 months

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This or That

A/N: It’s been a while since I made Ghost flustered. Fluff. Self-indulgent. (Render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

———————————————————————

“Movies or series?” You ask.

“Movies.” He replies instantly.

“Why?”

He shifts his gaze from the scope of his sniper rifle and looks at you.

“You said the game is called this or that,” he states with a low voice. “You didn’t mention anything about me having to justify my choices.”

“Just curious.” You reply, shrugging.

He turns his attention back to the scope and shuts one eye. “Because you finish them within two, maybe three hours max.” He explains.

“Efficient, even in your leisure time, eh Lt.?”

He clicks his tongue. You wait for him to ask you back, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s too focused to bother.

“Well, I prefer-”

“Series.” He interrupts you. “I know.”

“How?”

“I know you binge-watch them late at night.”

“How do you kn-”

“And then struggle to stay awake the next morning.”

You widen your eyes and inhale through gritted teeth. “That obvious, huh?”

He chuckles and murmurs a ‘mhm’ while looking at the distant building.

A message pops up on your laptop’s screen. Kate.

“Laswell says your target is on his way; she’ll let us know when he’s getting closer,” you inform him. “Vanilla or strawberry ice cream?”

“Neither.” He replies sternly. “Boring flavours.”

“Touché.” You agree, tilting your head to the side and shrugging one of your shoulders.

He lets out another chuckle, this time shorter and readjusts his grip on the trigger.

“Any other movement in the area?” He asks, making a subtle head nod towards your laptop.

“Negative, sir,” you reply. “Drone feed is clear.”

“Good; give me another,” he orders.

“Alright,” you say and clear your throat. “Soap or Price?”

He rapidly shakes his head and turns to look at you. “What in the world is that question?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

“If you had to spend a day with either of them, not on a mission,” you explain. “Would you prefer it to be with Soap or with Price?”

He rolls his eyes and exhales slowly. “Price,” he finally mutters.

“What about Gaz or Price?”

“Price.”

“Me or-”

“Price.”

“Why?”

“For the same fucking reason I said Price the first two times,” he replies, annoyed, and resumes his surveillance through the scope.

You both fall quiet. You absently fiddle with the straps of your tactical vest, monitoring the drone’s feed on the laptop in front of you.

“What about yourself?” He asks, breaking the silence. “Soap or Price?”

“You.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“That is my answer.” You murmur, shrugging.

You catch him out of the corner of your eye as he slowly turns to look at you. You don’t dare to meet his gaze. You feel your cheeks burning; you must be as red as a beet now. You reach for a strand of your hair, untucking it from behind your ear and letting it fall to the side of your face, using it as a curtain to hide your embarrassment. You inch closer to the laptop, but he follows your every move.

“Target spotted four kilometres away,” you state, hoping to divert his attention. “We have approximately fifteen minutes.”

“Fuck,” he swears and punches the roof you are both perched on. He shuts both eyes, lowers his head, and takes a few deep breaths.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, urgently. “Everything alright?”

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?” He murmurs and checks his watch.

“Lt, target’s not supposed to be here for the next fifteen min-”

“You shouldn’t be doing that.” He states and taps the digital screen.

“Do what?” You ask puzzled.

“Playing games while we have a target to eliminate,” he snaps and shakes his wrist.

You peek at the watch; he’s measuring his heart rate.

“How much?” You ask.

“145 beats per minute,” he replies as he takes a few more deep breaths to refocus. “Now cut the games, and let’s finish the job.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2

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satoruhour · 11 months

Note

Need sukuna in racer au 😩

REWARDS FROM A RACER

a/n: more of smut than him being a racer …. im not opposed to doing a ‘how they met’ ngl

wc: 2.1k

warnings: ooc sukuna, dom!sukuna, lewd declarations in public, he’s a little mean and calls you ‘whore’, ‘slut’, praise, degradation, pet names, car sex, semi-public sex, oral (m! receiving), light face-fucking, unprotected sex, riding, p → v penetration, clit stimulation, dash of daddy kink, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“doll, c’mon, we don’t have much time till the race starts.”

“i know, ’kuna! give me a minute, ’m just tightening the screws on the crankshaft.” you already hear the joke from miles away, a soft chuckle comes after he mumbles “heh, shaft” and you resist the urge to roll your eyes while stifling a smile. it seems like sukuna had enough of waiting for you in the driver’s seat, so he meets you at the front of the car where the hood is popped.

if anyone told you sukuna was someone who would’ve made time for anyone else but himself, you would laugh in their face because when had ryomen “king of curses” sukuna ever thought about anyone but himself? he had all that he could have: a ’66 Ford GT40 (that he named king of curses — a tad bit goofy, he knows), girls on his arm, first place for every race he took part in. he was untouchable.

but during a night in the midst of a drag race he saw you outside a club, barely catching a glimpse of you shoving off a man who couldn’t take no for an answer. he wasn’t surprised to see kenjaku — another racer from another region and someone who he had an infamous rival with — laugh when he had come to your rescue, cut off when the king of curses landed a clean hit to the other’s face. sukuna made sure you were okay after the whole debacle, but he also fucked you silly to show you how a man should really be treating you.

it was the only race he ever lost.

“sometimes i forget how much shit you put up with when you’re with me,” sukuna grins, a sneaky hand moving from your waist to your ass to squeeze it, “fixing my engine like an obedient little girl.”

you simply turn to him with a bored expression, but you can’t deny the throb between your legs when he talks to you like that, “glad you’re self aware, ’kuna.”

“smart mouth you have there, hm?” sukuna pulls you even closer against his front and you can already feel the half-hard bulge there. he’s always hard before a race, too. that you know, because it’s an emerging characteristic of his that you’re not opposed to because sukuna ends up pounding into you in his driver’s seat once the race is finished. he just can’t help the adrenaline, can’t he?

“guess i’ll just have to ruin you,” sukuna cuts off your next reply with a messy kiss, swallowing the soft moans that leave your mouth at the temporary relief you’re getting from grinding on him, “later.”

you scoff, feigning annoyance, “yeah, yeah, i know. you never miss a race.”

sukuna just smiles, smacking your ass slyly and makes his way to the driver’s seat before you have time to gasp, simply raising an eyebrow (“don’t tell me you didn’t like that?”) when you slap his chest later in the passenger seat.

“oh god, he’s going to do that thing again right?” beside you are the other more prominent racers of tokyo, the famous four excluding sukuna. gojo is the one who asked the question, nudging you with a grin that’s got you groaning into your hands. slowly, you nod.

across from you is sukuna in his Ford GT40, shouting with his windows rolled down, “i’m gonna fuck you so good after i win this race, princess!” and while you’re turned on at the prospect, you’re also wincing at how everyone whoops and cheers because he does this in every race. it never gets old, though, just as the laughter of the other four floods your ears.

“do you really have to scream it every time?” you lean down to the window once the two cars are at the starting line, running a hand through his mildly sweaty locks. his perspiration is a little pink from the dye he’s used to top up the colour of his hair and you jokingly wipe your wet hands on his top.

sukuna grabs your wrist, pulling you gently to give you a noisy, sloppy kiss, his words whispered against your lips, “they have to know how you scream every night.”

you tsk with a laugh, hand reaching down to palm his dick that makes him grunt, “give ’em hell, baby.”

and he definitely makes the other wish he never was born. sukuna likes to play dirty, bumping into the rear of the other when he’s behind, sending a middle finger to the racer when he passes him, it’s part of why your boyfriend tends to prefer solitude because he’s not on everyone’s good side.

with skidding tires, sukuna finishes with a dashing grin, but he’s so focused on you that he doesn’t realise the crowd around him, some reaching forward to congratulate him, others wanting to touch his car. the racer barks out before anyone can violate his ride.

“oi, you fuckin’ idiots dare touch my car and i swear i’ll fuck up yours.”

beside you, geto mutters out a yeesh while gojo just giggles, patting your shoulder before you bid goodbye to the famous four. the crowd makes way for you, naturally, when you walk towards his car, because what kind of mental person willingly dates sukuna? they follow your figure as you make your way to him, swaying your hips for everyone to see, but you hardly care when all you can fixate on is his promise to you before every race starts.

and all he does that night is fulfil his promise, whisking you away from the cramped parking lot and into the late tokyo roads, whizzing past street lamps and cop cars and howling at the top of his voice. he loves it, he loves you and you see it every time he drives you home after a late night race and every time he noisily drives up to you when someone’s bothering you.

sukuna loves your body, too, because all you know later on is his cock in your mouth on a quiet, remote mountain used for drifting. with the winter season approaching, it was desolate, except for the way your head bobs up and down on his length, which hardens even more inside your mouth.

“that’s it, fuckkk yes.” sukuna groans, a hand clutching onto the leather of his seat while the other finds purchase in your hair, pulling on your locks till it hurts. with his hips moving erratically paired with the soreness in your jaw, it’s really the only thing you can concentrate on in an awkward position while hovering over the stick shift. “suck like the dirty cockslut you are.”

“’kuna, mmfhh—!” your hands rush to find his thighs on a particularly deep thrust, tip hitting the back of your throat and you look up at sukuna through teary lashes and breathe through your nose before he lets you off briefly. but your mouth is too warm just like how your pussy feels and sukuna forces your head onto him again.

sukuna groans when he lets you do your own thing, mouth taking half of him while your hands help you with the other, alternating between taking sucking the bottom of his cock and lapping at his tip, continuing to flutter your lashes at him.

“stick out your tongue f’me, doll,” he manages to choke out a moan, grabbing his cock to slap it on your tongue (it’s so heavy that you moan), making lewd sounds before he starts thrusting again, feeling every inch of your mouth with no time to warn you of his impending orgasm until the car is filled with his incessant groans and grunts, hips faltering at how your mouth just keeps sucking. “fuck— i’m cumming.” sukuna spills unexpectedly, shooting his cum deep down your throat and you moan around his shaft. he’s not laughing now, focused solely on getting every last bit of cum into your system as he tilts his head back in utmost pleasure.

“take all of it,” his movements slow down, admiring how you look like you worship him with a lax mouth and pleading eyes, and he knows you do, but before that he’s ensuring you know that his worship of you overtakes yours by miles, pulling you impatiently to his seat before dragging your panties to the side. the other likes it when you wear skirts, easy access he says, licking his lips in anticipation when he sees how the fabric sticks to your cunt from how wet you were, leaving a string of arousal that snaps once it’s far enough.

“well? what’re you waiting for?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, a small chuckle leaving him when you mumble out a i’m getting to it! as you gather the slick leaking from your needy pussy. the feel of his mushroom tip against your clit is gratifying and you line him up before sinking down slowly. even after taking him multiple times, his size always makes your eyes widen and jaw drop at the stretch, incoherent whimpers leaving as he watches you take all nine inches of him.

“s’kuna, f-fuck…” you wrap your arms around his neck, suddenly shy at being so spread open for him to see, “s’big, you’re so big!” he hums, pressing little kisses down the side of your face while kneading your ass, plush thighs nestled around his pelvis so cutely that he appreciates your brief pause before you start riding him — because he can’t resist cumming when he sees you crying on top of him, trying his best to prolong the way you feel around him.

“i know i’m big, but you’re taking me so well, aren’t you, baby?” sukuna coos, holding your eyes that struggle to stay open as you bounce on his thick cock, ass meeting his hips in noisy pap’s as you flood his car with whining pleas of him filling you to the brim. there’s a white ring of pre-cum at the base of his shaft where your juices mix, dripping down the hilt and onto his balls, definitely soaking his leather seats. “just a whore for me to fuck stupid, yea?”

you nod frantically, babbling to no one as you throw your head back, pussy clenching when his lips meet your tits and he sucks hard on your nipples, flicking his tongue around your buds before moving to the other. “got so t-tight from me doing that,” sukuna laughs, wrapping a hand ’round your chin to force you to look at him. lips pursed, eyes blown wide from his cock in your cunt, hair sticking to your forehead, he swear he could cum deep in you right there and then.

“you love how i stretch you out?” he then yanks your head down to make you watch how your pelvis meets his, juices spurting in all directions by how wet you were. it truly was a sight, how his cock disappears into you and reappears, thighs burning from how fast you were bouncing on him.

“love it s’much, daddy,” you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you grab his free hand, bringing it to your neglected clit that’s been throbbing all night, “but i n-need you here, s’kuna…” and when he starts to rub circles into your puffy clit, you jolt at the feeling, screaming out obscenities at the sensations that overwhelm your body. he knows you’re getting tired and close, too.

so he shocks you by thrusting up, your body immediately halting to receive the way he rails into you and while your muscles are still cramping, it’s infinitely better than riding him. with his thrusts and his hand on your clit, you can already feel the coil in your stomach turning as your body slumps against him, “daddy!”’s spilling from your lips with mixed wanton moans. “that’s it, a good little slut who’s taking daddy’s cock, fuck—”

“so warm, and tight,” within seconds, his thrusts are irregular when you start to clench around him again, high-pitched whines filling his ears before you reach your high with a slack jaw and trembling thighs, body lined with sweat. but it’s the way your cum leaks down his length that gets sukuna releasing after you, the familiar pleas of wanting his cum deep in your cunt. he does just that, grunting into your neck when his hips thrust deeply before he releases his hot, thick semen into your pussy, gushing out because there’s just so much.

“love it when i breed my girl,” he mutters with a laugh breathlessly while you’re moaning softly at how he’s still spilling into you, overflowing cum leaking from your cunt even when he’s still inside. sukuna grins when your hips never really stop, still continuing to grind aimlessly.

“love my sweet girl who can’t think of anything but getting fucked stupid.”

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kaizynofsickness · 1 month

Text

Brain is rotting

Boyfriend!Sukuna headcanons (fluff/general relationship, angst, smut), true form Sukuna. MDNI

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who was insanely fond of you when he first met you, in his own sick and twisted ways. He wouldn't stop thinking of you, and for a second he thought you were powerful enough to make his brain disfunctional and think of you only. Until he leaned what it is called—he was aware of the emotion, just hated the feeling—love.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who wants to have you to himself already. I mean, you're so tiny compared to his all mighty four armed monstrous form, eyes glaring down at you. So what if your scared? Scared that he'll kill you when you're the one killing him, heart and brain all in one.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who will never admit it, but is dying to see you. Well, as much as he can get close to dying. He isn't needy and up your ass like someone else, he can go without your voice for a week.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is highly interested in the way you speak. Telling him that whenever you're away from him and waiting you're 'screaming and biting your fist.' at first, he thought it was funny to imagine. Until he grabs a hold of your fist, almost aggressively. "Stop biting yourself like a dog." His way of saying, I'm highly concerned. Please don't hurt yourself.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who has fun with you to an extent when you help him rearrange his domain for the 100th time. It was nice having a partner to do his work with him.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is never fully out of character. Not even when you get your period. Yeah, he'll still hug you and allow you to lean on him, rub your back with his large and veiny hands. But don't expect much. He isn't going out of his way to help you because your bleeding. Blood is normal, and from what he heard it's not blood from a wound. So why complain?

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna and his way of using his rough hands to message you stomach and sides. "I am not your slave bitch." He grumbles and complains constantly about how you have him doing this and not the other way around. What is he to you, you mere human?

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is as possessive as he looks. Someone staring at you for too long? "'kuna, why is my friend missing?" Is what he expects to hear days later after the incident of the persons eyes lingering on you body for too long. "Dunno." He would brush it off quickly.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who often makes sexist jokes. Like if you somehow can't cook right or lack amazing skills, he'll pop out that sexist joke of you being a terrible housewife.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna will regret saying some jokes like that if they end up hurting your feelings more than he intended them to. He won't apologize immediately and it will be a salty ass sorry. But next time you walk out to cook or do dishes, he will yank you away from that spot and let you watch him do it himself.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna started to hate how he acts around you. Either he's too mean and makes you cry or too nice and makes himself cringe. He misses how he used to be before you rotted his core with that dumbly cute smile.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who bites his tongue for the things he wants to say to you when you act out of line. Who clenches his fist until his nails dig blood out of his skin because he wants to cave you into a wall so bad. Yet he knows he'll loose you. So for once, he hurts himself. Not someone else.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who's arguments get heated really quickly. Sometimes, it's petty little things like why he burned you house down to force you to live with him or why he kicked a dog you actually liked, but it can get serious. Like when he's hurting someone for touching you innocently. That's when he ghost you for the longest.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who almost took a sort of pleasure in your tears, as toxic as that sounds. When he was arguing, you decided to simply cry. If you were a normal bitch, he would've killed you. But you looked so pretty with wet strands of hair on your forehead and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. He fought off a smile at your weak state.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna as shocking as it seems, wants to be better for for you. He wants to stop wanting to see you cry and wishing he could watch you burn sometimes. Because he loves you. Really. Yet for all those months you teased him by not being his, maybe you deserve to cry.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who gets upset when you get upset. You could be mad at somebody, and he will be mad with you. But if you're mad at him, he will be absolutely enraged with you. So much that he will lock you in his domain and not that you leave. Who told you to talk to him like that? Who told you to tell him who he can kill and who he cannot? Maybe being in a room full of bloody skulls will shut you up.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna—"Woman." He angerily calls out before stomping to the room you kicked you in and made you stay locked up. He opens the door to see you, upset and fuming yet scared and sad. The sight almost hurts him. He'll bend down, scoop your small frame up into his four arms, one hand holding your rear end and the other one stroking your hair, the other two bear hugging you. "Forgive me..." He gives you the best apology he can. Only to go back and do the same thing again.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is a bitch in bed. If you think he's toxic when he's in public or chilling, wait until he unleashes hell on you with two cocks.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who won't pathetically masturbate for you. He'll call your ass near him, legs spread wide open and his dicks already wet from his own pre as he smears it on the tips. He waits before motioning you to come with a coy smirk. "Ride." Is all he has to say and all he will say.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who most definitely will take advantage of his ability to spawn mouths anywhere and using is four arms to its fullest ability. When fucking your from behind? A hand will slide under, palming your pussy before a tongue lashes onto your clit and desperately sucks orgasms out of you.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna doesn't waste any time as soon as he is inside you. You can already feel mouth forming on his dick and licking your walls. You have never felt anything like this, virgin or not. With every fast and steady pump of dick, tongues run wild and lick along your clenching cunt.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna or the simple act of a pair of hands holding your waist to help you hop on his dick and the other two gripping your tits. He loves when they bounce. Yet, with your back facing to him or not, he pinches your nipples and hold them so when they bounce up and down doesn't hurt so much. Because he has you trained like a good whore to ride him hard and nice or else your ass will be bruised and red.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who loves to use his size and two cocks to intimidate your small cunnie and body. He find how your hole is basically begging to be stuffed yet your dumb little mouth won't stop talking and saying that he's too big funny. When once he fingers the mess out of you, at least half of his cock could fit in.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who sits on his thrown and thinks if he should edge you or overstimulate you today.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna seeing you beg for his cock inside—the same one that you complained was too big—with dewy eyes clouded with lust and needy, rubbing your clit right in front of him, humiliating yourself for some dick. Makes him go feral.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna or the misunderstood bubbles coming from you as you actually try to run away from his dicks, yet when he has you in a mating press with both your gaping holes right there, full of cum and cock, he ain't stopping. He watches with a smile at your tear stained face, glossy and kissed bruised lips quivering with every desperate cry of his name. Why have two holes in the same area when he can't stuff them? It feels so surreal for you—one of his dicks twitching to orgasm as the other isn't even used enough and pumping you like he hates you.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who buys (or steals) all of the hardcore lingerie are bondage toys just to use them till they break or ripping the clothes right off of you. When you sit in his throne, red silk robes and a lace bra just below your nipples, watching you touch yourself through the shear laced panties that were soaked, makes him wanna kiss down your small dainty, delicate legs. And he kneels down you legs, in between before his teeth shread the pretty clothing. You're the only woman he'll ever get on his knees for. For that pussy.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who loves to have sex in public. If anyone happens to see, it's not like he can't just kill them on sight. But he enjoys watching you squirm and desperately trying to push his large body away from your small one. He loves when people start getting suspicious when they hear wet squelching sounds. Not only does he have to cup his hand over your mouth to shut you up, but now he has to deal with a sobbing pussy all over his dick.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna he keeps telling you to keep it down, shoving you into deep and bruising kisses. With the way you moan like you're taking five guys at once, it's like you wanna get caught.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who will never admit it, but you can tell just by the way he acts, he is pussy whipped. He just loves the way his inhumanly large and thick cock glides and disappears inside that tiny hole and reappear, covered in your arousal and slick. Or the first person up close view of your throbbing clit, waiting for his tongue.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who takes a hit in spanking you. Not even with his hands. With a belt, or maybe with a whip, paddle. He'll give you a good 10 licks before finally giving you a break. Sometimes, he does it as a punishment. Making you count and leaving you in tears.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna he leaves your ass red and stinging. He'll be as nice as to run up and down on your ass and add cream, cooing and telling you how good you counted. Or if you miscounted the amount, he'll end up giving you some more, with his hands or fucking you even more brain dumb.

Who wants a fic of this, fluff, angst, or smut?

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steel in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed.

@kaizynofsickness

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #headcanon #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #x reader #fluff #fem reader #female reader #smut fic

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motherlvr · 11 months

Text

love me better, listen more.

wc: 3.2k

Pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: After Miles' father died, everything changed. Including your relationship with Miles.

Warnings: angst w/ happy ending, cursing, friends to strangers to lovers, angry makeout session, Flash Thompson exists here

A/N: honestly my fav fic i've made so far, im literally running out of photos for him. im gunna have to start using photos of his jordans

As you walked home, an arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind, "¿Cómo está mi ángel hoy?" Miles’ voice flowed through your ears.

He called you his, but you weren't lovers.

You were slightly startled but immediately recognized him. Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “Your ángel, huh? That’s a new one.” smiling up at him.

"It suits you." Miles gave you a wink.

Usually, he called you 'ma'. So his switch-up today made you narrow your eyes at him skeptically. "What's with the good mood today? No 'ma'?" You tilted your head at him.

Shrugging it off, he said, "What, I can't be happy to see my girl?" He had a point, except for the fact that you weren't his girl.

You laughed and shook your head at him, "By all means, go ahead." As he accompanied you on your way home, you realized he made your walk home much more pleasant. Arriving at your house, you told him "This is me. Thanks for walking me today." You gave him a light peck on his cheek.

"Course. Make sure to wear that outfit I like tomorrow, mami." He teased with a grin, only half serious.

Rolling your eyes at him, you smiled, "You're insufferable. Adiós, Miles!" You waved as you walked up to your doorstep.

"Chao, princesa." Walking away, his mood felt lighter. He walked home with a little more liveliness than usual.

For reasons unknown, Miles walking you home was becoming a reoccurring event. Within the next few weeks, he walked you home more often than not. You started to look forward to it as you searched for him after school.

As you both walked down the street of your neighborhood for what seemed to be the hundredth time, you approached your house. As you both stood in front of your house, you turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me home, Miles." You placed a kiss on his cheek. It seemed to be turning into a daily routine now.

"Anytime, princesa. Hasta luego." He smirked at you and watched you walk into your house before leaving.

Little did you know, that would be the last time he walked you home in a while.

Later that evening, you kicked your feet up on your couch and turned on the television. The first channel that popped up was the news channel. Reading the headline, your heart dropped into your stomach. It read,

"Police Captain Jefferson Davis Found Dead At 44.”

"Holy shit." You gasped. In an instant, you dropped the remote and tried to contact Miles. You tried calling but were sent immediately to voicemail. So you opted to text him, "I'm so sorry, Miles. I'm always here if you need to talk."

You left him multiple messages that night to no avail. The following day at school, you tried to scout him out in the halls. But he was never there. You would call if you thought he would answer.

Miles and you always confided in each other. There was a mutual trust between the two of you. However, within less than twenty-four hours, Miles' demeanor completely changed.

Leaving him another message after school, you said, "Where have you been? I'm worried, Miles. But you know that already. Sorry for the messages."

No response yet again. He didn't even bother to read it.

Weeks passed by with little to no contact from Miles. He seemed to entirely disappear. Your concern only grew for him. You haven't even seen him in the hallways at school. There was no denying it, you were starting to miss him.

Although, today was a new day. And for the first time in what felt like a century, you saw him in the hall. He looked a fright. There were new frown lines on his face that weren't there before. He looked slimmer, even. His smug smirk that would always adorn his face around you was no longer present. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him nonetheless. Jogging up to him, you called out.

"Miles, wait." You softly said as you delicately grabbed his arm, not to startle him. He paused, looking back but not into your eyes. He shook your grip off, never making eye contact with you. "I just need some time, alright?" He told you. But what does 'some time' entail? What if he just didn't want anything to do with you in general?

He walked away and didn’t look back.

You felt your heart break into two as you watched him fade away from your view. It broke for both him and you. Seeing him like this pained you. But at the same time, your heart ached as he pushed you away in the process.

Yet, you granted him his wish. You stopped looking for him in the hall. You stopped trying to message him. You stopped leaving voicemails. Maybe if you gave him some time, things would smooth out. Grief is a long process, after all. You couldn't blame him for grieving.

Weeks turned into months without any contact from Miles. And it didn't seem like he was going to break that any time soon.

You fell back into your old routine, the one where you'd never met Miles. He was merely a stranger that you thought too often about. You walked home without him next to you. And into class alone as well. You no longer looked forward to walking with him at the end of the day. The walks home were infuriatingly quiet.

Every day you arrived at your doorstep but never felt at home. You had a home, and he was it.

-----------

While you were getting books out of your locker, an arm slung around your shoulders. An almost familiar sensation. But it wasn't him. Far from him, actually.

Instead, it was no one other than Flash Thompson. His notorious blond hair and conceited attitude were tell-tale signs. You could almost smell the arrogance radiating off of him before you even acknowledged his presence.

"How are you, gorgeous?" He removed his arm from your shoulders to close your locker. Leaning his arm onto the locker above your head, he encased you on your locker with your back against it.

"I'm fine." You dryly responded, uninterested in his pursuits.

"That you are." He gave you a predatory smirk and winked at you. You mentally grimaced. "Anyway. You still with that Morales kid?"

Raising a brow at him, you respond, "We were never together.”

"Huh. He's always by your side, like an over-protective guard dog. So I assumed." Flash said. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. But that wasn't the case anymore. It hasn't been for some time.

This was one of the many times Flash had tried his advances on you. However, it never worked to his intentions since Miles was always there to tell him off. This time was different. Miles was nowhere in sight. At least, within your sight. Meaning Flash had an open opportunity with you. There was no Miles around to try and bite his head off.

"Yeah, well. Not anymore." You muttered. Suddenly feeling awkward, you directed your stare anywhere other than Flash's hungry gaze. An uncomfortable cold shiver ran down your spine.

Flash leaned in, his fingers pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. Whispering in your ear, he told you, "That's too bad. I could treat you better than him, though. He doesn't have to know, baby.”

You looked up at him and tried to hide the disgust that was forming on your face. But, hey. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, you tried to convince yourself. This was a chance to get over Miles. His hold on you was ridiculous, considering you were never actually together. You weren’t going to wait for him to crawl back to you.

You put a hand on Flash’s chest in an attempt to push him away from you. But he misinterpreted it and encased his palm over your hand that was laying on his chest. “See? You’re warming up to me already. You don’t need him.” He cockily said.

Turning your head away from him, you said, “I don’t know, Flash. I’ll think about it.” pretending to consider it. He gave you a displeased look, "What's there to think about? We would be good together, babe." he tried to persuade you. It was evident that he wasn't going to give up anytime soon.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Miles turned around the corner and instantly spotted you. He’s been skipping almost every day. All of a sudden, he felt glad that he didn’t skip today as he saw you with Flash Thompson. Way too close for his comfort. And then he saw your hand on Flash’s chest. That was his breaking point.

Miles saw nothing but red as he walked over to the two of you. If looks could kill, Flash would've been dealt with by the first second he walked around the corner. He sneered, "Back the fuck off my girl, Thompson." shoving him in the chest away from you.

You couldn’t believe him. After all that time, now is when he decides to make an appearance. He was the one that cut you out of his life. Not you, but him. Huffing at him, you spoke up before Flash did. "I'm not your girl. You've made that clear." You rolled your eyes in irritation.

Flash gave Miles a smug smirk at your words, "You heard her. So go fuck yourself, Morales." He spat at Miles, getting up close and personal with him. As Flash glared at Miles, it was clear he was trying to intimidate him. It wasn't working.

You almost didn't comprehend what was happening as a fist collided with Flash's face, knocking him down momentarily. He groaned in pain, holding onto his nose as blood dripped from it.

“What the fuck?” You screeched at Miles’ outburst. Flash was still laying on the floor, stumbling to get up. Before it could escalate further, you pulled Miles by his arm and dragged him into an empty supply closet. Miles opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"The fuck is wrong with you, Miles? You don't speak to me for months and now you suddenly want something to do with me?" You said in disbelief.

He said bluntly, "I don't want to see you with him again."

His hands traveled over the curve of your hips to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You tried to get out of his touch. Or, you would've. But his hands on you felt too natural. He felt right.

That didn’t mean you’d let him off easy. This was the first conversation you both held in months.

"Well for the past few months, you didn't want to be seen with me either." You quipped, aggravated. His sudden change of heart polarized your emotions. You were conflicted with yourself.

He shook his head, “I’m sorry, mami. There’s shit going on that I couldn’t involve you in. I can’t bring you down with me.” He uncharacteristically apologized.

His words made you become hyper-aware of his hands on your waist. The way he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs. How you almost folded under his touch, but maintained your unbothered facade. No matter how much time has passed, he still made your heart race.

You scoffed at him and continued, "I’m not going to wait around for you like some lovesick puppy. Do you want me or not, Miles?"

Without a moment of hesitation, he quickly said, “You have no fucking idea.” Inspecting his eyes, you tried to find deception within them. What you saw in return was the gaze of a man starved.

“Then earn me.” Glaring up at him, you harshly retorted as you furrowed your brows at him. But one more look into each other's eyes was all it took for the tension to snap in half.

He grabbed you by the waist swiftly and pulled you in, your lips finally connecting. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Your bodies pressed together against the wall of the closet, knocking over supplies. The pent-up frustrations inside of you came undone as you kissed him with all the fiery passion you could muster. You bit his lower lip, making him groan against your mouth. That was a sound you realized you'd love to hear on repeat. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony. Like they were made to fit each other.

His hand traveled to the back of your head into your hair as he pulled it softly, making you muffle a whimper into his mouth.

Miles pulled away for a split second to whisper with a smirk, "Cállate, hermosa. But I'm down if you want everyone to hear." His lips were hovering over yours, only seconds away. You felt both of your chests heaving against one another, his breath overlapping yours. You were sure he could feel your heartbeat.

"Fuck you, Miles." You briskly closed the small distance between both of your lips once again before he could make a crude remark about how 'you'd like that'.

You spent the rest of the class period cooped up with him in the minimal space of the supply closet.

-----------

After school, you looked for Miles. Something you've been restraining yourself from doing over these past few months. However, you were hoping things were different now. In a good way. You'd think spending some quality time in a supply closet together would change things.

But as you looked across the courtyard, Miles was nowhere to be seen. You felt irritated with him once again, but you weren’t going to let him cut you out of his life for a second time.

So you did what any rational person would do. You visited his house to talk with him. You believed that if you had a decent conversation with him, it would fix what broke between the two of you. After all, his mother did tell you that you were always welcome there. His house was the place the both of you created a collection of memories. Memories that you stayed up late thinking about. Before it all went downhill. Knocking on the door, his mother answered it.

You greeted her with a smile, "Hola, Mrs. Morales! Is Miles here?" She gave you a knowing look. Mrs. Morales always did have a knack for knowing exactly what was going on.

Nodding her head, she told you "You caught him at a good time. He's been in and out with his Uncle lately. Come on in." She promptly led you inside the house.

"Gracias, Mrs. Morales." You told her before you made a beeline for Miles' room. Stopping right in front of his door, you knocked. Silence came from the other side. "Miles, I'm going to come in. Please don't be naked." You covered your eyes with your palm as you opened his door.

You didn't hear any yells of protest, so you assumed it was safe to peek through your fingers. As you removed your hand from your face, you noticed he was climbing through his own window. But that's not what made you stop in your tracks. Rather, it was his attire. He wasn't naked by any means. Instead, he was wearing the infamous suit that you've seen on the news time and time again. Over the past few months. The correlation clicked in your brain. He wasn't purposely avoiding you for the last few months. His life was just turned upside down in more than one way. He turned into the Prowler.

He looked just as shocked as you while he climbed through his window. "Fuck, what are you doing here, mami?" He frantically asked.

Closing the door behind you, you said, "I came to speak to you, but it seems like all my questions are answered now." You felt numb.

He didn't have a response. He didn't know what to tell you. It was exactly what it looked like. There were no words exchanged, but much was said within those silent moments.

Breaking the silence, you exclaimed, "Y'know what? Forget it. Forget I came here. Matter of fact, forget we ever met." You just about had it. Miles, the one that used to walk you home, being the Prowler was not exactly something you predicted.

"You know I can't do that." He said. You started to back away from him, turning away. He grabbed your arm with a feather-like touch, despite wearing his steel claws. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you. Not physically, at least. "Just let me explain."

"What is there to explain? That you've been avoiding me for months because you're the Prowler? I don't think anything else needs to be said." You let out a faint melancholic chuckle.

He stared into your eyes as he removed his claws, gently grasping your shoulders. "Mami, just listen to me." He pleaded, "You understand now why I couldn't tell you. That's why I had to stay away. This business is the shit I can't have you affiliated with."

"If you don't want me affiliated, then don't join it." You snapped at him, pushing a finger into his chest.

Your response set off something inside of him as he blurted out, "I'm in love with you. Shit, I love you so fucking much. I always have. You're the only one that's ever on my mind, 'ight? If I permanently lost you, I'd never come back from that."

Those were precisely the words you've been waiting ages to hear. But not like this.

"Miles. I can't be a part of this. I don't want to do this 'back and forth' thing. I can't do this. Not with you." Turning your back on him again, you tried to hold your composure as you stepped away. Out of his grasp. You had no intention to break down in front of him. This time, you were the one walking away. You were going to be the one leaving him.

"Wait," He called out, his voice faltering. You were slipping through his fingers, right in front of his eyes. If he had to beg you to stay, so be it. Even after all that time apart, you've been the sole reason he woke up in the morning. He couldn't afford to let you leave him for good.

"Quédate conmigo, mami. Por favor. I can't lose you again." His voice trembled with desperation. Your steps hesitated, his words plunging knives directly into your heart. You've never seen him like this. And it was a sight you never wished to see again.

So you obliged. You might as well have taken what you said and thrown it in the trash. He had the ability to change your mind with only a few words. Turning back to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He reciprocated as he enveloped your waist with his arms.

You buried your face in his neck as you whispered, "Don't fucking do that again. Don't shut me out." You placed a light kiss on it. You continued, "I love you too, Miles." removing your face from his neck to stare up into his eyes.

"I promise, mami. It's only ever been you." He softly said, pressing his lips to yours. You kissed back with just as much delicacy.

You were aware it was an incredibly dangerous business Miles was involved in. For him, you'd give up anything. You hadn’t a clue what being involved with the Prowler would exactly entail. It was something you both would have to figure out together.

Your relationship was by no means perfect. But you were both learning. As long as it was with him, you wouldn't have it any other way.

-----------

¿Cómo está mi ángel hoy? - How's my angel today?

Princesa - Princess

Adiós/Chao - Bye

Cállate - Shut up, be quiet

Hermosa - Beautiful

Quédate conmigo - Stay with me

Por favor - Please

(yes the title is a childish gambino reference)

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #jealousy #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spider man #prowler miles #friends to lovers #prowler!miles x reader #x reader #miles morales prowler #prowler miles morales #miles morales

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littledovesnow · 5 months

Text

the president's wife

what happens when some rebels try and get back at coryo >:-)

a/n: angst angst angst!!, read the prologue (?) here

content warning(s): mentions of death, kidnapping, kind of canon level violence???

“Are you almost ready, my love?” Coriolanus asked, walking into the bedroom as he finished closing the cuff links on his wrists.

You nodded, walking out of the closet with a pristine pair of black stilettos in your hand, red bottoms causing a grin to spread across your husband’s face.

“Going for the vintage heels tonight?”

“Only for the most special of occasions.” You smiled, taking his hand as you stepped into the shoes. “Are you ready for your party, President Snow?”

Coriolanus’ eyes lit up when you called him that, following you out into the foyer. “More ready for the after party with you.”

You lightly slapped him on the chest, looking up at his hair. “I do wish you grew your curls out again. That’s one more thing that District 12 took from me.”

Coriolanus sighed, running a hand through his blonde locks. He had decided to keep the shorter hair from his first days back from his Peacekeeping stint, stating it made him look more professional.

“Yes, but it’s less to grab onto.” You had replied when he first brought the idea up to you. That alone almost made him grow the curls back out, but once you two discovered that it was even more fun with a buzz on the sides, the style stayed.

“Did you ever hear back from Tigris?” You asked, stepping into the black town car that was going to take you to the party.

Coriolanus had extended an invitation to his cousin to the inauguration party, but she was out in District Four with Fabricia, not due back in the Capitol for another couple days.

“She said she would try and make the earliest train back, but I haven’t heard if she’s made it or not.”

You hummed, looking out the windows as the Capitol citizens made their way to the Citadel, hoping to get a glimpse of the new First Couple. Little did they know, said couple was riding alongside them.

Coriolanus looked you up and down, hand moving to your thigh and giving it a squeeze. “You okay?”

“I am, just nervous. You know I don’t like crowds.” You had a dislike for large crowds ever since you were a young girl, having seen your father shot by rebels during what was supposed to be a routine drill.

“After tonight, you’ll not have to worry about large crowds.” Coriolanus promised you, ready to give you anything and everything under the sun.

Smiling at him, you leaned over to press a kiss to his lips, making sure the red lipstick you wore wasn’t noticeable. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Coriolanus whispered, car coming to a stop outside the front entrance of the Citadel.

-----

You had been introduced to dozens and dozens of people, you weren’t sure you even remembered who anyone was by the time you and Coriolanus were able to have a moment of peace.

There had been endless congratulations to the new President and First Lady, with handshakes and some hugs following.

Coriolanus took a sip of the posca in front of him, gesturing to the bar. “Why don’t you go ask for some champagne, I made sure they had some on order for tonight for you.”

A man after your own heart, you squeezed his hand before heading over to the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Champagne, please.”

“Ah, you’re the reason we have cases in the back.” The bartender smiled, popping the cork on a fresh bottle.

You smiled, thanking the man for the glass of bubbly. “Was champagne not a common drink with the last president?”

“No, his party-goers and visitors often went for posca and morphling over anything else.” The bartender, Gus, you read on his nametag, continued to pour drinks while talking to you. “But it seems like you and President Snow will have your fair share of pocsa and champagne, I presume?’

“Not really, Coryo doesn’t really drink unless it’s a social event.” You spoke, watching as Coriolanus was pulled into a conversation with some other politicans. “What else do you-”

You froze when you felt the telltale pressure of a gun barrel to your side.

“Move, speak, do anything to alert anyone and I’ll shoot.”

Swallowing, you looked over at Gus, who simply looked at your predicament and froze, as well, half-dry whiskey glass in his hands.

“Good.” You braved a look at the voice talking, seeing an unfamiliar man with sun damage on his face. If you had to take a stab at it, you’d guess he’s from District 11. “You’re going to follow me out the back, casually. As to not alert that husband of yours.”

“The president. You mean the president of Panem.” You whispered, regretting it as you felt the gun push harder into your side.

“Shut up.”

You braved one last look at Gus, who was about to speak when a gunshot rang out, your eyes growing wide as you saw blood stain his white shirt.

-----

Coriolanus was mid-sentence with some politicians trying to get money for District Four when he heard an all-too-familiar sound hit his ears.

People ducked for cover, screams were let out, and several Peacekeepers rushed over to Coriolanus to escort him out of the room.

He looked at the bar, heart racing when he saw you weren’t there. “Where’s my wife?” He asked, head swiveling to look around. “Did you see where she went?”

“Sir, there’s still a threat, we’ve got to move.” A Peacekeeper said, urging Coriolanus out of the room.

Unable to fight back against the increasing-number of Peacekeepers, Coriolanus was ushered into a saferoom of sorts, though nothing felt safe without you next to him.

“What the fuck happened? Where is my wife?” Coriolanus demanded, this was not how he predicted he’d be spending his first night as President.

One brave Peacekeeper spoke up. “We’re unsure of her location at the moment but-”

“What do you mean you’re unsure of her location? You better find her or your family will be wondering where you are in the morning.” Coriolanus threatened, eyes dark with rage and terror.

Peacekeepers raced out of the room, and Coriolanus collapsed into one of the seats along the wall, head falling into his hands.

He was going to lose you before you two even had a chance to live.

Heart hammering in his chest, he shot up when he heard the door open, Peacekeepers walking into the room. “There’s a bartender in the infirmary, Sir. He’s asking to speak to you.”

“Why would I-”

“He said he saw who took your wife.”

Coriolanus said no more, instead following the Peacekeepers down to the infirmary, trying to get the uneasy feeling out of his system.

Gus, who had miraculously survived a shot to the stomach, wasn’t really expecting the Peacekeepers to bring him President Snow, but he watched as the blonde followed two men into the room.

“Mr. President, I- I think some rebels broke into the party. They didn’t look Capitol, and I believe I saw one of them had a gun.”

Coriolanus immediately dismissed the Peacekeepers from the room, following them to the door and closing it.

He spun and looked at Gus, who was shaking a like a leaf. “You’re going to tell me everything you saw and heard up until they shot you. You’re going to help me find my wife, and I promise you, you will not have to worry about working again.”

Gus nodded, swallowing his nerves. “She- she was asking about what other drinks we had behind the bar. These two guys came up and I thought they were just guests, some past presidents had invited people from the Districts, I thought that’s what they were.”

Coriolanus felt his blood pressure rising by the second but urged Gus to continue.

“I didn’t know what they were going to do until Y/N stopped talking, and when I looked up I saw the run rammed into her side. I think- I think they went out the back exit.”

Coriolanus thanked Gus before darting out the door, leaving the Peacekeepers running after him.

-----

You looked around the dingy room, the only light coming from an oil lamp in the corner. “Where the hell am I?”

“Oh, she lives.”

You turned to try and get a look at the men who abducted you, though it was hard to make out any features in the dim light. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Swallowing, you took a deep breath, crying out when you tried to stand. You looked down, seeing blood dripping from a large gash on your leg.

“Oh, yeah you sliced your leg when you fell.” The man nodded to the rather sharp-looking scythe to the side of you.

The door opened, and your head snapped up to see two more men walking into the room, one of them dropping their jaw when they said you. “The President’s wife?! You’ve just signed our death certificates!”

Feeling a dull ache in your head, you watched as the man who presumably kidnapped you from the party held his hands up, lazy smile on his face.

“Not a worry, once Snow sees we have his wife, he’ll pay anything to get her back. We’ll be able to start harvesting faster than ever.”

“You are from 11, what do you want with me?” You asked, ignoring the throbbing pain in your leg.

“Oh, smart little bitch you are.” The main ringleader smiled at you, a handful of teeth missing.

“You see, when your dear little husband signed his name on the last bill passed in the Capitol, he took away a third of our pay. For what? Some hospital?”

You remained silent. Coriolanus had signed onto a bill that would help women’s health, a step in the direction of the fertility research he wanted to fund.

“There’s little we can do with what we made before, Mrs. Snow.” The man sneered, making a face when he said your name. “Now? We’re already starving out there. We had to do something to make him notice.”

“But abducting his wife?!” The most reasonable out of the three asked, arm shooting out to point at you. “Couldn’t, I don’t know? Blow something up?”

The men started arguing with each other, taking their attention off of you.

You took their quarrel as a chance to limp towards the door, not getting far from the immense pain you felt radiate from your leg. It was more than just a cut, you were sure of it.

-----

Coriolanus looked out the window, sun peaking over the mountains. He still had no idea where you were, and with each passing hour he feared for your life more.

“Coryo!” Tigris ran over to her cousin, enveloping him in a hug. “I came as soon as I got off the train, what happened?”

“Rebels, they have Y/N.” Coriolanus rasped, and Tigris’ frown deepened as she saw how worked up her cousin was. His hair was a mess from tugging at it, bags under his bloodshot eyes, once-pristine shirt was now wrinkled. “I have Peacekeepers out in all the Districts, the Capitol is being combed through.”

“They’ll find her, Coryo. They will.” Tigris said, hugging her cousin again. “They’re checking each train car as they come into the station, they’ll find her.”

Coriolanus nodded, looking back out over the skyline of the Capitol, knowing you were out there somewhere.

-break-

You were on a train, you heard the squeaking of the brakes as it came to a stop. “Where are we going?” You asked, tending to your now sore wrist, a result of stumbling off balance when you tried once again to walk on your busted leg.

“They’re searching all the cars. They’re going to find us.”

The ringleader didn’t think this far ahead, not planning on shooting Gus at the bar when he snuck into the party. Not planning on alerting the Peacekeepers as soon as he did.

“Fuck, fuck, uh, we have to run.”

You heard the knocking on the door, before the train car’s rusty door was slid open by Peacekeepers, who immediately fired their guns at the three rebels.

“Alert President Snow, we found his wife.”

You started to cry, wanting nothing more than to see Coriolanus after the last few hours.

-break-

Coriolanus ran through the halls of the hospital, Tigris hot on his heels.

“Where is she?!” He yelled, eyes frantic.

“Last door on your left, Mr. President.” The commanding Peacekeeper saluted the young man, nodding at Tigris as she followed her cousin.

You looked up from the long line of stitches on your leg when you heard quick footsteps growing nearer, before you saw an all-too-familiar head of blonde hair come into view.

“Coryo,” you sighed, struggling to sit up, face contorting in pain.

“My love, take it easy.” Coriolanus rushed over to your side, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

You cried into your husband’s shoulder, dam finally breaking. “I- I was so s-scared, they had guns and- and I know that guns inherently aren’t that scary. But, Coryo, they- they were going to make you pay ransom!”

“I would’ve, I would’ve paid anything to get you back to me.” Coriolanus mumbled, forehead pressing against yours. “You’re the most important thing in my life.”

Tigris cleared her throat, and you looked behind Coriolanus to see the older Snow. “You’re back!”

“I’m back, but we’re going to catch up later. You need to rest, and you need to sleep.” She said, latter half of her statement aimed at her younger cousin.

You smiled at her, watching as she left the room and closed the door once more. “I’m sorry I ruined the party, Coryo.”

Coriolanus made a noise in the back of his throat. “You didn’t ruin it, gorgeous. Those rebels did, though I heard they were already taken care of.”

Nodding, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the image of their dead bodies out of your head. “What are you going to do to their families?” You asked quietly, knowing vengeance was in store for them.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over that, just focus on your health.”

-----

a/n: i love angst with a fluffy ending, it is my favorite. also i told you titles are my kryptonite i cannot do them right

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #hunger games tbosas #hunger games imagine #hunger games x reader #young coriolanus snow

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

purely platonic ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, maybe a bit of angst??, secret crushes, just two idiots who can't read the room of what we call 'feeeelingsss', they friendzone each other without knowing they're friendzoning each other BAHA

word count: 3.8k

It goes without saying that you and Lando are like two peas in a pod; always finding something to do. But when things suddenly shift after the summer break, it leaves you two to settle with the idea of one another with a rather doubtful mind.

req!...got this one a long time ago and the request was kind of confusing?? but i tried to make something out of it hahaha enjoyyy??

“Does this top make my boobs look big?”

Lando’s watercolor eyes quirk up, squint, then shakes his head full of curls. “You don’t have much to worry about.”

You muster a dirty glare before prancing over to the mirror, picking up a tube of gloss, laying it onto your plump lips. When you first started working at McLaren, you never truly thought you would end up here; on holidays with a witty British driver, but your friendship had blossomed rather quickly.

Don’t bother—they taste like absolute rubber.

Looking up to face the mysterious voice, you awkwardly choke, dainty hand dropping the last chocolate wafer.

Have you tried them?

Lando grins widely before reaching out to pick it up and popping it into his mouth. He winks.

Mmm. New recipe or something like that.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” you call out, pulling the baby voice he hates with a strong passion. Rolling his eyes, he kicks his feet against the bed frame, twisted like a pretzel. As long as I don’t get a ransom call, then yes. Go. You’re giddy with excitement; pick up your purse, spray some perfume—probably the entire bottle—and finally peck his cheek, to which he grimaces, instantly pulling away.

“Make sure to wake me up once you’re back.”

You do. Patting him, you eagerly bounce up and down against the fluffy mattress. “Brazil was a mistake.” His lashes flutter tiredly, skin slightly pink from rubbing his eyelids. Why? Folding your legs beneath your butt, you huff, tangled hair flying towards him. He can almost smell the sea salt that lingers onto your clothes; the scent of aperol spritz. It makes him wonder how many you’ve taken as he props up against his elbows, dark brows drawn together with attentiveness.

“First of all; I paid for the entire thing.” No, he gasps. You nod, pursing your lips tightly. “I’ve never seen someone so tan turn paper white in a matter of seconds. It was quite fascinating, actually. Sucks,” you ponder, shoulders dropping drastically. “He was stupidly gorgeous, too.”

I hate it when they do that. You laugh, eyes crinkling with true emotions for the first time that night. “He did dance like a pro though, oh God, I could barely keep up.” A lazy arm flies up to massage your neck, wincing as if you’ve just stubbed your toe against a brick wall. “I might have to see a chiro.” Tapping your finger against your chin, you close your eyes. “After all that, he invited me back to his place.”

The Brit sits up straight away; turns on the lamp that sits besides him. “Why are you here then?” he screeches. You curl a brow. The fuck is that supposed to mean? Lando sighs heavily and rubs his temples before flashing you with a pair of judgmental eyes. “We’re here to have fun, remember? Sex, sex, sex. That’s our priority.” The twenty-four year old relaxes against the comfy pillows. “We made a pact.”

“But I just—” You become visibly green, too grossed out with the idea. “He was handsome; a fucking hunk.” The blue eyed boy gags. “Probably had a massive dick.” You’re disgusting! A giggle erupts while you wiggle your way underneath the covers. “But I think I need to form an actual connection with someone in order to actually…yeah. A connection.”

It was about five months ago that you got dumped. Constant travels, not enough quality time. Too much work, not enough fucking. Far too lovey dovey eyes batted towards a certain brunette—that’s where you drew the line. You stood up for yourself; for Lando. It had taken you years to gain his trust and now that you had an unbreakable bond, you weren’t going to let the first insecure man make you feel like shit for it. But he didn’t like it; leaving you to cry on someone else’s shoulder.

For some factor, the Brit felt bad. Perhaps it was his fault—perhaps he did intervene—but he was pissed too. For the way your ex had treated you, for him even considering the twenty-four year old would hit on somebody’s girlfriend. The blue eyed boy knew the difference between flirting and a platonic relationship. Yeah. You were better off.

Brazil was great. Summer break was great. One night stands were great. At least he thought so.

Placing his hands over his broad chest, he releases a breath. “That’s actually pretty cute.” A sudden growl slides up your throat as you kick his shin. He scoots further away. “I only suggested because I thought it’d help…”

“Now you know.” A beat. “I can’t keep up with the Sex God.” Loopy eyes flicker over at him. “I’m talking about you, sex machine. Sex enthusiast. Can’t keep it in his pants— ”

He gruffs. “Understood.” He steals the blanket away as you squeal, hands flying out to tug it back towards your body. “Loud and clear.”

He had a plan to visit as many places as possible, and while that was fun for a while, you reasonably started to miss home. I’m tapping out, you would declare when you got to Bali, enjoying the view with an exhausted state. Last one. But he would somehow, always, convince you. There’d be too much to see; too much to experience. And you would stay.

It’s only up until Australia where you find yourself taking a break. Maybe it was because you were staying at Daniel’s, but you were grateful nonetheless. Days consisted of hikes, rodeos, undercooked steak, wine, and dirt biking. Quite fun—definitely better than being back home feeding your pet fish. Ms. Lockwood has it all taken care of, thank you very much.

“This is nice,” the Australian murmurs as he bites down on a slice of pizza. “I’m glad you guys made a pitstop.”

Wandering eyes roam the open field, dusty boots kicked up against his car. “Us too.”

Lando clicks his tongue knowingly, tilting his head at you as you hush him. For once in his life, he was glad to have someone around. Oftentimes, there’d be moments where people would assume you two were dating—possibly even married—but it was simply an unhinged friendship. Exactly what he was looking for. Thank God all of that is over now.

“How long have you two been together?” Heidi asks sweetly, leaning against her boyfriend. Mid-sip, you spit it all out, red wine painting Lando’s white tee. Bloody hell, he moans, drying his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” you gurgle. “We’re not…” When you gag, the Brit scoffs.

“She’s too immature. You think I would willingly sign up for that?” The couple share a skeptical glance, eyebrows raised to where he hands you a napkin. “Come on, mate, who do you take me for?”

As you both make your way over the house, Daniel and Heidi settle into a deep conversation. There was not a single doubt within them that you two weren’t meant for one another. It made perfect sense—but why were you both so blinded to the idea?

“Hmm,” the blond says. “Two months of traveling together? That just doesn’t happen.” Heidi spins on her heel, facing the Australian. “There’s obviously a connection between them.”

Men like you are the reason I left Finland. Men like you are the reason I left Finland. A sip of water. Men like you are the reason I left Finland—

“What are you even talking about?” Lando groans from his seat. Peeking over at him, you shrug, and continue mumbling. “For the love of God, must you keep repeating yourself? You’re making a simple twenty minute drive seem like four hours—stop it already.”

Coldly glaring at him, you pinch your face like a clam and point a narrow finger at him. “Men like you are the reason I left Finland.”

The Brit lets out a scream and jumps towards you, slapping a large hand over your mouth. You squirm for a good minute before biting down, forcing him to pull away with a sudden hiss. “Rascal.”

The view was breathtaking; the white snow, the green trees, the sunlight beaming from afar. His agenda continued and you kept tagging along. You’ve never visited, so everything was a pleasing journey. Staring out the foggy window of the van, you pout, pondering. “You’ve seriously never watched Confessions of a Shopaholic?”

“A Cock-A-Who?”

You laugh. “Not even close. I’m not doing this again.”

You’re sure you get frostbite by the end of the day, but the Northern Lights make up for it. After snapping a couple thousand pictures, you finally settle down on the snow next to him. “Hey.” A white puff exits his mouth, chapped lips.

“Hey.”

The silence prolongs, then you let out a sore cough, taking a sip of hot chocolate. You can’t help but roll your eyes when you barely get a sip, realizing he has finished it all while you were busy not looking. “Out of all the places we’ve been to, this has to be my favorite.” You direct your attention over to him. “Thank you for bringing me along. It means a lot.”

“Ah. Don’t mention it.”

You hum. “I never get bored of you.” You can hear his snowsuit scratch as he shifts to face you; wide eyes admiring the colorful lights. “I keep thinking I might—even just a little bit—but I don’t. It’s weird.”

He chuckles, relaxing. “I’m glad you haven’t. We’ve been traveling for a while now, so if that were the case, then I’d be worried.”

Pursing your lips, you let out a sheepish grin. “You’re like…the Suze to my Rebecca.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

Finally, you turn to him, taking in his puppy lost state. Specks of snowflakes cling onto his long lashes, the bridge of his nose is beet red, a hint of dried blood coats his overly frozen lips. Patting his shoulder, you let out a light whistle.

“Let’s just say; I never want to leave Finland.”

The season picks up once again, and so do the travels. But they’re not the same. Maybe it has to do with the fact that it’s not only you two anymore. Sure, you have your friends, but…it’s not the same. The thought alone is confusing, but you don’t let yourself think about it too long. Running after Oscar, you hand him a black binder. “What's this?”

“Not sure. Zak just wants you to read over it before the meeting.”

Frantically, he skims the white pages, flipping eagerly. You giggle. “I know it looks bad, but it’s not!” The Australian barely has a chance to protest before you skip away, shooting a quick thumbs up. “Take notes!”

Reaching the familiar dressing room, you find yourself gently knocking, foot tapping against the tiles. He swings open with a loopy grin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” A beat. “Meeting in ten minutes; don’t be late.”

He nods. “Is there anything I should go over?”

You shake your head, extending a singular piece of paper towards the British driver. “As long as you go over these notes, then you’ll do just fine.” You take a step back. “Ten, Lando, ten.”

“Got it.”

You’re the last one entering the crowded conference room, teasing snickers spilling from McLaren colleagues. Zak claps loudly. “Great! Let’s get started.”

You’re bored halfway through, zoned out, doodling onto your notebook. You were aware of everything, so you suppose it didn’t really matter. Gray led slides coolly. A sharp sound rips you away from your daydreaming as you look up, eyes flickering between the three main men.

“I wasn’t aware there was any special treatment.” His accent is laced with humor, brown eyes drifting over to you. You curl a brow at Oscar.

Zak chuckles. “I wasn’t either.”

Once the meeting is adjourned, Lando strolls over to where you sprawl onto a row of chairs, blanked out. He swallows a chuckle down. “You alright?”

“What have I done?” You sit up, maniatic eyes dancing across his figure. “I’ve never done that before—not intentionally.”

The Brit closes an eye teasingly before releasing. “The notes?”

Leaping up, you march over to him. “Yes, the notes! Since when do I sum up things for your benefit? God, I didn’t even think about Oscar…”

“I’m sure you weren’t thinking straight. We all know you like to help both of us out.”

A queasy feeling flips inside of you as you tilt your head. He was right. You got caught up, made one set of bullet points, and coincidentally gave it to Lando. No further meaning.

“I need coffee.”

As soon as you bolted out of McLaren Hospitality, Lando made his way through the paddock. “Norris,” a deep voice calls out. Alex grins widely, jogging closer.

“Done for the day?”

Alex nods. “What about you?”

“I think so. Had my last meeting; I think I should be good.”

The Williams drivers shimmies with a low chuckle. “Why are you still here then?”

The Brit freezes. “I actually don’t know…” Huh, Alex hums.

“You’re looking for someone?”

He unfreezes, chest tightening. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, hey, watch out.”

“Daniel!” you shriek. He lets out a toothy smile, extending his arm out as a silent greeting, cup of coffee in hand. You rip it away, taking a large chug. “Thank you—gotta to go.”

“Wait.” He reaches for the hem of your shirt, stopping you from slipping away. “Are you okay? You look a bit…” He motions a crazy sign. You glare back at him.

“I need air, I need air,” you gasp, zigzagging past him. Running after you, he hauls you into the nearest restroom. You screech, panicking. “Air, Daniel, air.”

“What happened?”

Something in his voice tells you he knows. You don’t want him to know. How could anyone know what you don’t even know? No one can know.

“You’re right—I’m losing my mind.” You step out of his embrace. “Let me out before I kill you.”

Brown eyes stare back in amusement. “You can be honest with me.”

“I’ll scream, Daniel.”

“Be honest with yourself.”

“I’m a black belt. My limits are endless.”

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say it.”

You close your eyes, groan, and kick the wall. “Shit, I like Lando.”

Heavy pants, desperate huffs. Anticipating eyes, nervous fiddling with your hair. His lack of response makes it all worse.

Daniel clicks his tongue. “I knew it.”

“Want anything?” he asks, gazing up at the wall of foreign treats. Singapore knew what they were doing. Your voice catches, releases, then wave him off. Weird, he thinks to himself, but continues to pay for his own sweets. The way you prance around the small convenient store makes him smile, occasionally making sure you were still there.

“I won’t be going to the next race. Thought you should know.”

It obviously catches him off guard as he spins to face you with a neutral expression. He’s good at hiding things—feelings.

“I…um…” He coughs. “Can I ask why?”

“It’s my nana’s birthday.” A beat. “She only has so many left, dude.”

The Brit would love to relax and laugh at your dark humor, but one simple word makes him deflate, nodding along with a sheepish look. He hands you a bag of penguin gummies. “From me, to her.”

The colorful bag crunches against your touch, awkwardly beaming at it, then looking up into his soft stare. “She has diabetes, but thanks.”

He realizes just how much he misses you once you jump onto a plane back home. He had been kind enough to offer to drive you to the airport, and you had been rude enough to decline. A weak exchange of words ensued between you two before reluctantly coming to an agreement.

Here is fine!

Blue eyes wander the busy drop off zone; humming with concern.

Let me help you with your bags, then.

No! Drive safe, Lando. Oh—and make sure to take your vitamins!

The British driver wonders why he feels different; pacing the room back and forth. Vitamin C is important. He eyes his watch. That’s probably why—he forgot to take them. Or maybe it was his biotin.

“Mate! You have my charger!” The twenty-four year old gazes at his taking door and makes his way over. Daniel stands with loopy eyes, half shaved mustache. “Bon Iver died mid-For Emma, so you better hurry and give it to me.”

“I have it right here, chill.” The Australian invited himself in, brown orbs flickering carefully through the dark room. He chuckles.

“Can’t find your birth control?”

Lando cocks his head to the side, recognizing his mess that lies on the floor. The orange bottles make him stutter, briskly pushing the white charger towards his friend. “B6, I’m looking for my—” A nervous hand runs through his messy hair. “Got what you need? Great. Off you go.”

“Ah, ah—hold on a second; is that my girl, Isla Fisher?”

The Brit cackles, remembering about his open computer. “How do you know?”

Daniel plops down. “Confessions of a Shopaholic? Classic. Heidi loves it.”

The brunette hums, finding a spot next to the Aussie. “Who’s Suze?”

“Have you not been paying attention?”

“I’ve been looking for my calcium!”

The thirty-four year old pouts. “I thought it was your R2-D2?”

“Clever.”

A Tim Burton looking girl comes on-screen, perfect bangs hanging just above her brows. The redhead and black haired duo exchange a small phone back and forth, panic evident. “That’s Suze. She’s Becky’s best friend. They go through a bit of a rough patch, but they come back together, don’t worry.”

“Suze? Rebe…” He pales. “Friends?”

“You thought they were lesbos?”

Lando shakes his head, harshly. “What about Finland?”

“A fantasy land, sort of.” Daniel props up against his elbows. “It’s her getaway from all her debt. It’s real, but it’s not real.” The blue eyed boy’ shoulders droop furthermore as he watches the scene play out.

“Friends…”

Chomping down on a mysterious pill, Daniel shrugs. “Mhm. Just friends.”

It’s safe to say that you’re refreshed. You thought things through—you could never speak about your sudden realization. This probably happens all the time, all around the world; nothing to see here. Your feelings were there, but they wouldn’t be your downfall. Not when he mattered this much to you.

“Read over this. Pay close attention to three and seven—Zak is going to ask you about it.” Lando hums slowly, eyes tracing your beauty. You’re a shade darker due to your small vacation, if you can call it that, and that somehow tugs at his heart. If he pays close enough attention, then he could point out a few new freckles. “Any questions?”

He blinks. “Zero. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.”

Something has shifted inside of him; something…new? Every chance he gets, he would peek and admire the way you laugh with a couple of the engineers, with Zak. Then, he would have to pinch and remind himself that he was your friend; nothing more, nothing less.

“Any additional notes? Oscar? Lando?”

Raising your hand timidly, you beam. “If I could suggest one thing, maybe we can keep the floor the same? I know we spoke on how a drastic change can possibly lengthen our kph, but if we actually think about it, then we would be able to see that it’ll only worsen things. It’s perfect, really, where it’s at. What we should be focusing on instead are other areas. Find ways to lighten the car, mark our attention to the aerodynamics.” Red creeps carefully onto your cheeks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you shrug. “Just a…thought.”

Zak hums, crossing his arms in deep thought. “We could do that…we could definitely do that.” He grins. “Boys?”

“Anything to make us faster, count me in,” Oscar agrees, voice steady.

“We should change it.”

Everyone turns to face the twenty-four year old. Pens glide faster, keys click harder, and you stumble clumsily. “Sorry?”

Lando tsks. “I like what you were saying, but we need to change it in order to stand a chance against the Red Bulls. They’ve cracked the code; and we’re so close. We need to adapt.”

You burn up. “I’m sorry, but I disagree, Lando. Things should stay the same. Same is safe. Change is…” You lick your lips, biting down momentarily. “Not necessary. Not when things are already good where they’re at.”

The British driver hisses. Oscar jumps at the cold sound. “Safe is a pussy move. How will you ever know what could have happened? One thing can flip everything around.” His eyes soften. “A-and put us in front of the grid for good. Good, good.”

Caught in the flame, you grit your teeth together; who were you to have a say after all? Your attention circles the quiet room before nodding stiffly. “Alrighty then.”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

Lando frantically chases after you, shoes squeaking with every drastic turn. “I was just being honest!”

The sudden speed you turn back to face him with makes him flinch, forced to come to a halt. He can practically see the fumes exiting your body. “But did you have to say it in that tone?”

“What tone? I didn’t have a tone.”

“Yes! Yes, you did!” You continue your march. “Oh, hi! I’m Lando Norris, professional Formula One driver, who knows everything you don’t.”

“I do not sound like that.”

“You’re right. You sound worse.” A huff. “Listen, I’m not actually mad, but I do need time to myself, so can you please…” You motion him away and he scoffs. Are you being serious right now? “I am! Leave!”

He sort of replicates a zombie, the way he drags his feet back to hospitality. Was he really ready for any of this? He liked you, a lot, but things like these would eventually stir up in any relationship, and maybe he didn’t have the strength in him to fix things yet. But if you stayed friends, then…yeah. Things would stubbornly fix themselves.

You, on the other hand, have a sudden bounce in your step. A stride. This is what you needed. Suddenly, your stupid little crush wasn’t as important as you had imagined. Fights would bubble between you two if you ever dared cross the invisible line, and you weren’t the biggest fan in facing them. Friends. That’s all this was.

Daniel crosses Lando first, intrigued by his dead-like state. “What’s up with you now?”

The Brit blinks. “I’m no Luke, Danny.” He kicks a rock. “I’m fine, however, being a Suze.”

Son of a bitch, the Australian thinks as he watches his friends stroll away. He actually paid attention.

Placing his headphones back onto his head, he continues his walk down the paddock, confused. When you make your way with a bright smile, he, too, reciprocates. Your lips move fast, hand gestures flying theatrically, and he can’t hear a single thing. The Alpha Tauri driver snakes his hand to slip them off once again. “Having a g’day?”

“Best,” you beam. “Connection lost.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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loveronlineee · 2 years

Text

The Metalhead and the Material Girl (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist All Parts

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: none

Synopsis: When a super fem new girl joins Eddie’s class he thinks he’s got her all figured out, but he soon finds out that the popular kids aren’t the only ones who judge people’s first appearances

Y/N notes: none

Okay I don’t usually do writers notes but I gotta say thanks to these four: @carolinaflicker @iamsiriuss @hauntingtherosebush @lindsey3300 for helping me out on the lil bit of D&D stuff I mentioned. Some of you guys had slightly different answers for me so if I’m still wrong let me know! (And other D&D playing peeps)

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

“I’m Y/N L/N. I transferred here from California for my senior year. I like pop music, fashion and hanging out with my friends. And I hope I can become friends with all of you!”

Pretty. Bubbly. Probably a bit of an airhead. The popular kids will scoop her up in a heartbeat. Eddie thought to himself looking up at the new girl. I wonder how long it’ll take for her to be just like everyone else.

The teacher pointed at the empty seat on the metal head’s right, giving the boy a stern look.

“Y/N I’m gonna seat you next to Eddie here at the front so you can help me keep an eye on him.” Eddie grinned and gave the teacher a wink.

Okaaaay here we go. Eddie thought to himself, leaning back in his chair. What kind of popular girl is this one gonna be? Disgusted by me? Weirded out? Just plain old pretend I don’t exist?

“Hi, Eddie was it?” The new girl asked with the biggest most genuine smile Eddie had ever seen. Her face was enough to melt away any built up hate he had accumulated from every harsh comment thrown at him throughout the years.

“Uh yeah Eddie. Eddie Munson.” He couldn’t help the smile appearing on his own face. This girl was a ball of sunshine.

“Nice to meet you Eddie.” He watched as she took out her things from her bag and set them out on the table. Everything was either pink, glittery or had a cute little character on it. She wrote the date on a new page in her notebook, doodling little stars around the numbers.

The teacher came over and placed a piece of paper on Y/N’s desk.

“This is your time table with your classes. Don’t be afraid to ask someone for help.”

“Oh thank you!” Y/N chirped before beginning to read through it. “Hey Eddie, what classes do we have together?” She tilted the paper towards him. Eddie leaned over and skimmed the page.

“Oh wow most of them. We got all the same ones today in fact.”

“Do you mind if I just stuck with you then?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah that’s cool.” Eddie wasn’t in fact planning on going to all his classes today, like most days, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to get to know this girl more. He spent the morning walking Y/N to all her classes, pointing out other parts of the school she’ll need to know. He revelled in the looks the other students were giving him when they saw them together. The resident freak with a mystery bombshell.

Lunch came around and Y/N followed Eddie to the lunch hall.

“Hey I’ve been meaning to ask you… what’s on your shirt? Is it a band?” Y/N asked.

“It’s my club.”

“Oh cool! You run a club? What’s it about?” Eddie smiled at her as they reached his table of friends.

“A little game called D&D.” He turned to them and gestured to the new girl. “Gentlemen, this is Y/N.”

The boys all looked at her slack jawed, unable to think of anything to say. Luckily, Y/N had enough social skills for the whole table.

“It’s nice to meet you all! I started here today, Eddie’s been showing me around.” She explained as Eddie pulled out the chair in between his and Dustin’s and letting her sit down. He sat in his own chair at the head of the table just observing his friends trying to process this girl being here.

“You’ve been with Eddie…” Mike started asking very slowly, like he was waiting for the pin to drop. “…since this morning?”

“Yeah he’s been really helpful.” Y/N smiled at the younger student. “So are you two freshmen?”

Y/N continued chatting with Mike and Dustin. Eddie looked behind them at the popular kids who were eyeing him suspiciously. The cheerleaders all glaring and whispering to each other. “Eddie!” The metal head looked back at Y/N.

“Yeah?”

“So all these guys are in your club?” She gestured at the group. “You were gonna tell me about D&D earlier, what’s the game about?” Y/N asked, genuinely interested. Eddie grinned. He stood up like he was presenting to a class. Everyone sat up, hands neatly rested on the table, going along with the joke.

“D&D, or Dungeons and Dragons, is a fantasy table-top roleplaying game that only a select few at this school truly appreciate.” Eddie used theatrical hand motions as he described the game, putting one foot on his chair to add to the dramatic effect. “It is a game of teamwork, decision making, and the luck of the dice.”

He gave Dustin a small nod which prompted the boy to take a heavy book out of his bag and put it in front of Y/N. The Dungeons and Dragons Handbook. She began flicking through it, taking in as much as she could. She gasped.

“Can I be a fairy???” Eddie chuckled at her enthusiasm. He sat back down and shuffled his chair closer to hers.

“I’m sure I could homebrew something for you. Either that or you could be an elfen princess? If you just want that pretty ethereal girl look.” Eddie paused. “That… you’ve already got.” He looked back down at his hands, a little hesitant of his last line, before looking back up. Y/N was smiling at the compliment, easing Eddie’s nerves.

“Hey!” Two cheerleaders had approached the table, one calling out to Eddie with annoyance in her voice. “Why don’t you just stick with the freaks?” Eddie leaned away from Y/N and looked to the popular girls.

They turned to Y/N, who seemed a little confused. “You can come and sit with us instead.” One of them said, like she was doing the new girl a favour. Y/N looked over at Eddie. He kept his face the same, not wanting to influence her decision.

Of course he wanted her to stay, but he just couldn’t deal with the guilt of depriving Y/N of having an actual enjoyable high school experience. It didn’t matter how pretty she was, if she was hanging out with the freaks then she was gonna get bullied.

“Oh uh okay then.” Y/N replied apprehensively, slowly getting up. “I-I’ll be back in a minute.” She said as she was dragged away by the cheerleaders. Eddie pursed his lips together in a saddening smile.

“Suuuuuuuure you will.” He said just as Y/N got out of earshot. He looked around at the guys. “And that my friends, concludes the story of the time we almost got a hot chick to play D&D.” The group mumbled and chuckled, going back to their lunch, clearly no where nearly as affected as Eddie.

He knew this was inevitable. With who Y/N was and who he was. But a part of him, a small part of him wanted to believe that she’d stay. For him. That she wouldn’t get poisoned by the ideologies of the social hierarchy. But that was just wishful thinking. He looked back down at the table.

At least it was nice while it lasted.

“Sorry bout that.” Eddie looked back up to see Y/N again. “So I can be an elf princess?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“…why are you here?”

“I did say I’d only be gone a minute.” She smiled. Eddie stared at her, unable to speak. His head slowly turned to the popular kids. They looked even more surprised than him.

“W-What about them?” He gestured.

“What about them?” Y/N asked, confused.

“Aren’t you gonna hang out with them?”

“They don’t seem like people I’d want to hang out with.”

“They don’t?”

“Do I look like a bully to you?” She joked. “So, elf princess? Yes?” Eddie’s smile retuned to his face.

“Yeah. Yeah definitely a princess.”

Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries @ruhro7 @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski

#eddie munson #reader x Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #st eddie munson #stranger things season four #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #reader x stranger things #stranger things imagine

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

OMG HII I'M A NEW FOLLOWER AND I LOVE YOUR WORK!! May I please ask for HCs or a one shot of Ghost with his s/o being self conscious/ashamed (YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN LOL) about squirting so much that he AND the bed got soaked?? THANK YOU SO MUCH MANY KISSIES MUAH 💋💖

Ghost & König w/ an S/O who is Self Conscious about Squirting a Lot

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Content, Heavy Implications of Smut, Squirting, Insecurity, Embarrassment, Dom Ghost, Dom König, Unprotected Sex, Profanity, etc.

Ghost:

First time it happened, Ghost couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He just stared down at where his hand connected with your cunt, your cum spattered across his arm, reaching all the way up to his elbow.

The sheets below you were covered, too, a heavy downpour of your juices coating them, soaking them.

“Fuckin’ Hell,” Ghost rasped, licking his lips.

You lay wide-eyed and stationery beneath him, chest heaving with the coat tails of your orgasm.

You’d never done that before.

And the fact that Ghost only looked upon you with a heavy gaze did nothing to soothe your nerves - did nothing to reassure you that what had just happened was normal. Or appreciated.

Sweat-skinned and face flushed with embarrassment, you tried to withdraw, to cover yourself and hide from Ghost’s dark eyes.

They were unreadable. Void of anything discernable.

Before you could pull the soaked bed sheets over you, Simon’s hand tore it from yours.

“Oh no, Princess,” he said. The corners of his lips turned up, not a smile, but one of its off-colour variants, one that spelled devious.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you’ve covered me.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head, face burning. You tried to object.

“You…you don’t think it’s weird?” you said, testing. Receding. “I-I don’t think I can do it again–”

“Let me put it this way,” Ghost began. He pumped his fingers into you, four strong, making you squeal, sensitive from your orgasm. He began unbuckling his belt with his other hand.

“We’re not stopping ‘til you do.”

König:

König didn’t stop pummeling into you until you’d finished.

And, upon doing so, your orgasm tearing through you, you ended up spraying.

Hard.

König felt your warm cum shoot against his abdomen, coating him in a thin layer of you.

You noticed, but your mind was far too hazy with the after effects of your high to register it properly.

König finished inside you shortly after, unable to contain himself any longer.

He flooded you, painting your insides white, much how you’d painted him.

Minutes passed, your conjoined, deep breathing filling the silence.

Head somewhat clearer, giving way to distinguishable thoughts, you looked down at König.

He was, simply put, wet.

Not damp, not moist - wet.

And then, the memory hit you.

Your heart sank.

“König…?” you said, voice meek. You watched his chest and shoulders heave, with him bent over you like a bridge, eyes screwed shut.

You went to call his name again, but his lips on yours stopped you.

Between laboured breaths, he muttered dark words into your skin as if they were incantations.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he said, breathless.

You blinked, confused.

“Wha–”

“You thought you could keep this little trick of yours a secret from me.”

He said it as if it were true. The actual truth was that you’d never done that before; not with König, not with anyone.

“I should punish you,” he said, retracting only to roll his hips against yours.

You gasped, a shock of painful euphoria tightening inside you.

“I can make you do it again,” he said. There was no mercy in his eyes. No negotiation.

“And I will.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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papercorgiworld · 4 months

Text

Tutoring first years

The things Theodore Nott does for love.

There was a request to write more about the scenarios from ‘Pansy’s Interrogation I’. This ended up being a lot longer than expected so I thought I would post both stories separately. Hope you like this one. And I hope to finish Mattheo’s tomorrow.

Warning: suggestiveness, not proofread

If you want a little more context, you can read Pansy’s interrogation, but it’s not a must.

The first tutoring class didn’t go as planned. You were helping three kids with transfigurations, Digorry was helping five kids with herbology and Theodore found himself stuck teaching potions to dumb and dumber. When the Ravenclaw first year next to Theo shakes his head after Theo had explained something for the third time, Theo rolls his eyes and sighs.

He mutters something in Italian and lets his eyes wander around the room before returning his attention to the kid next to him. To Theodore’s surprise the kid looks all pouty and tears are welling up. Just great. “Potions is not that difficult, no need to cry about it.” The Ravenclaw sniffs a bit before looking up at Theo. “My mother is Italian, I know you just called me stupid.” Theodore’s eyes almost pop out and he quickly glances over to you, fortunately you haven’t taken notice yet. “Look you’re clearly as bad at Italian as you’re in potions, ‘cause I didn’t say you were stupid.” The other kid sitting at Theodore’s table grimaces, knowing that that was the wrong thing to say.

The Ravenclaw starts sobbing softly and you walk over. “What’s wrong, Alan?” You ask, concerned about what’s going on. Theodore pretends to be sympathetic and equally concerned, but in his mind he’s cursing the kid. Alan, right that’s the crybaby’s name. You better keep your mouth shut. “He called me dumb in Italian and I know because my mom speaks Italian.” Theodore stares daggers at the kid. You nod calmly, but you really don’t know what to say. “Well, I’m sure Theo didn’t mean it that way. Theo, a word please.” Theodore forces a half smile and gets up, but can’t help but whisper with poison in his voice: “Snitch.”.

You walk to the hallway and Theodore closes the door behind him. “You can’t call someone dumb, Theo.” Theodore just rolls his eyes, that dumb Ravenclaw really ruined it for him. “He wasn’t supposed to understand.” A soft smile tugs at your lips at his lame excuse, but you suppress it. “You need to support them, help them gain confidence. It’s not because they’re slow learners that they’re stupid.” You explain. “Yeah, I know, but there’s a difference between being a slow learner and being a little slow.” You smack Theo with the book you were holding. “Auch, woman, no need for that. I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut in every language from now on.” You narrow your eyes at him. “You better.” Theo can’t help but lick his lips as he again sees a smile tug on your lips. You both return to your students and Theodore really gives his all trying to help the kids.

***

Theodore enters the Slytherin common room with an exhausting expression and his friends immediately take notice. “How did professor Nott do? Were the kids paying attention?” Blaise asks with a humored smile plastered on his face. Theodore just sighs. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to call them dumb.” Pansy can’t help but laugh. “Oh, but that just takes the fun out of it.” Mattheo complains. “All this for a girl?” Draco questions with a mocking tone. Theodore eyes shoot up in annoyance at Draco but he ignores him and calmly reaches for his cigarettes, while nudging Mattheo as a nonverbal invitation to head up to the astronomy tower. Theo was not in the mood for more teasing.

***

Theodore takes his seat at the table with dumb and dumber. “See, I’m not stupid.” Alan says with a proud voice as he shows Theodore his latest potions test. Theo carefully examines the paper. “Look at that, not a total knucklehead after all. Let’s review this week’s material four times as well and get another grade like this.” Both kids smile at Theodore’s weird way of complimenting. You can’t help but feel butterflies as you watch Theo work and laugh with the kids.

The feeling is totally mutual, because every time Theodore looks over to you he can’t help but stare and fall in love a little more. It’s even so bad that he’s starting to worry that the two dumbasses next to him might notice. You focussed on teaching the kids to hold their wand properly and make the right movements so they don’t accidentally set something on fire. Suddenly you hear an outburst of giggling coming from Theodore’s table. You look up to see a slightly flustered Theo shushing his table and when he looks up he gives you an awkward smile making you blush.

Now not only his friends are giving Theo a hard time about his crush his students had joined in as well. Theodore almost chased them out when the tutoring hour had passed. “You really seem to get along with them, I’m glad.” You say and Theodore just raises his eyebrows telling you the kids were still a lot of work. He can’t help but stare as a giggle escapes you. When the silence gets a bit weird you decide to thank Theodore. “You really are my hero for doing this. It means a lot to the kids and to me. Honestly, I really didn’t expect you to sign up but I’m glad you did. You do more than just teach, you inspire these kids.” Theo shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. He can’t shake the sad feeling that you see him as this nice person who wants to help first years, while his true motives are as selfish as can be. He wants to be honest with you but he knows that no good will come of it. “Yeah, I never expected it to be this valuable. I’m glad I signed up.”

Your paths split when you tell him you have to visit Dumbledore to report about the tutoring project. Theodore quietly walks to the Slytherin common room not looking forward to more teasing. “Well well teach, how did it go?” Draco chimes as soon as he spots Theo, who just rolls his eyes in response. “Did you make a move on her?” Mattheo asks sincerely curious. “No, I was busy with Alan and Shane and she was busy teaching kids proper wand movement.” Mattheo nods, but can’t keep his mind from thinking a little dirty. “Just a little longer of playing tutor and she’ll help you out with wand movement as well.” Mattheo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Enzo is the first to laugh at the horrible joke, while Blaise just shakes his head. However, Mattheo’s face goes pale in horror as he sees you enter the common room with wide eyes. You clearly heard him. Mattheo tries to subtly signal Theo to keep his mouth shut and turn around, but Theo doesn’t catch on. “Yeah, nothing’s more sexy than a sweet guy helping out dumb kids. I’m definitely winning her over.”

Mattheo grabs Theo’s arm forcing him to turn around. Suddenly all eyes are on you and give Theo a fake smile. “Real sexy.” Theodore wants to say something, but you won’t let him. “I came to tell you that Dumbledore is awarding each tutor an extra 40 house points for their selfless hard work, enjoy.” You turn on your heels and Theodore just curses himself.

***

The next morning at breakfast Alan and Shane walk up to Theodore with sad faces. “(Y/n) said you won’t be helping us anymore.” Theodore can’t look up to them. It was his fault he hurt you and disappointed his favorite morons. “Why? Are we that hopeless?” One of them asks and Theodore immediately protests. “No, no. Don’t ever think that. Neither of you are geniuses, but you’re far from hopeless. I’m the dumb one. I’m too stupid to be teaching you guys something.” The kids look confused, but nod with pouty faces and leave.

“That’s just sad.” Enzo says, feeling bad for everyone involved. Theodore sighs and searches for your face. By Salazar, how did I get myself in this mess. “Not all hope is lost.” Pansy sighs when she sees everyone depressed about Theo’s situation. In an instant all eyes are on her. “She’s obviously very upset and I think that’s because she’s really disappointed.” So far Theodore found no words of encouragement. “I think she’s so disappointed because she really really liked you. Which means you can still win her back.”

***

You joined Cedric outside on a bench and sighed. “I know we were already short on tutors, but keeping Nott in the project was just wrong.” He gives you a sympathetic smile, but doesn’t say anything. “Look, we will find someone better.” After a moment of silence you speak up again sounding desperate. “Any suggestions? I have no idea who we could ask.” Cedric was about to say something reassuring when he saw Hermoine and Harry walk up to them. “Look, I know I said I didn’t have time, but I’ll make time. I’ll help you with the tutoring project.” Hermoine rants and Harry just nods. “I will help as well.” Luna and two other Ravenclaw join you as well. “Can we still sign up for the tutoring project?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but you nod and hand them all a flyer with information. “Odd.” Cedric blurs with his face in a frown as he watches everyone walk away after they signed up. You just nod in agreement.

It’s then that you spot Blaise and Enzo walk up to your bench. “We’re here to sign up as tutors.” Okay, now I’m sure. Something’s off. “Why?” You ask, sounding meaner than you intended and making Cedric give you a disapproving look. “Because being a first year is scary, you learn so much and it’s overwhelming. I want to inspire them to continue learning and see the fun in it.” You frown a little surprised by Enzo’s argument, but you hand him the flyer anyway. Next your eyes land on Blaise who takes a deep breath. “Tutoring is a great opportunity to work on social skills by learning to encourage young minds. It also looks good on your resume.” You can’t help but laugh at his monotonous voice. “Did Theo put you up this?” You ask and Enzo gives you an awkward smile.

“He knows you’re short on tutors so he spent his day recruiting tutors for you.” You roll your eyes and huff. When you get up Cedric grabs your wrist and forces you to sit back down. “Hear them out. Nott is a slow learner, but that doesn't mean you should give up on him for doing one dumb thing.” Enzo nods. “He really cares about your project, even if it’s just because it’s ‘your’ project. He wants to help.” You feel the butterflies return, but it’s Blaise’s argument that convinces you to forgive Theo. “Honestly, is it that bad of a thing that the guy tried to impress you by helping others? Looks more like a win win to me.” You can’t help but smile. Maybe it really isn’t that bad.

***

As you approached the quidditch stadium you could already spot Theodore flying thanks to his messy hair. Your hand reaches up to your cheek as you feel yourself heat up. How did that idiot get you feeling like this by just being nearby? When you enter the stadium Draco is the first one to see you and he yells at Theo, who immediately flies down to meet you.

“Hey.” You can’t help but giggle at his meek voice, making him feel a little embarrassed. You take a few steps towards him. “I have enough tutors for every student now.” He smiles content at the good news. “Except for one student, Alan, so I was hoping you would come back. He’s rather fond of you.” Theodore shakes his head in agreement as he closes the last bit of distance between you two. “I would like that. I was missing the little bugger already.”

“And I also wanted to ask you for a favor.” You ask and lick your lips, making Theo’s mind go crazy with anticipation. “Anything.” He curses himself internally for sounding like a simp. “Would you mind tutoring me as well?” Theodore’s eyes drown in yours. “Definitely, what class?” You lean into him and let your hand wander over his chest, slowly making its way down. “Just something extra curricular.” Your hand rubs his crotch, earning you a soft sound from Theodore as his eyes fill with lust. At your touch his brain shuts down. “Of course, it’s very important to stay underneath- I mean on top of extra curricular activities. Both are fine really.” You can’t help but smirk a little as you notice how easily his brain got fried under your touch. “Later.” You say and turn around with a cheeky smile. Theodore swallows and tries to regain composure.

”Smooth.” Theodore rolls his eyes as he turns around to spot a smirking Mattheo and laughing Draco.

Bonus: Theo simping for you

“Of course, it’s very important to stay underneath- I mean on top of extra curricular activities. Both are fine really.”

His mind is all about those extra curricular activities.

Picture source: https://pin.it/4OsJcVNGA

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #papercorgiworldwritings

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ceruark · 11 days

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liquid courage

synopsis: aventurine leaves your drunk boss on your doorstep. notes: ceo! sunday x gn! personal assistant! reader. modern au (he's still an angel though, don't ask me how or why. the wings are important to me). fluff. cw: none! (implied aventurine/ratio, but nothing major) words: 3,147 inspiration: every kdrama ever

It was, for the first time in several months, a relaxing night.

After weeks of traveling between worlds and meeting with various business partners, you finally landed back in the place you called home: a rather luxurious unit in Golden Hour's finest apartment complex. It was far too big for one person and beyond what you dreamed of affording growing up, but it was necessary.

Not only were Golden Hour's Platinum Terraces a fifteen minute drive away from Dewlight Pavilion, but they also had the best security Penacony could offer. As the personal assistant of Halovian Corporation's esteemed CEO, you had a rather large target on your back. So, despite your initial hesitations, you'd agreed to live in the flashiest building in Golden Hour.

It wasn't like your wallet was suffering because of it. The astronomical cost of rent hardly put a dent in what the Oak Family deposited into your account every other week.

You sighed and stretched out leisurely on your couch, flipping through the channels until you settled on a showing of one of your favorite movies. You let it play in the background while you responded to messages from friends you hadn't had the chance to get back to during the trip. In between enthusiastic conversations and pictures of the fancy meals and hotels you'd stayed at, you scrolled through your social media accounts, grimacing at your feed when it recommended a picture taken of you without your knowledge.

It shouldn't have surprised you that being around Sunday constantly would put you under the same spotlight he grew up in. Heir to the Oak Family's fortune and beloved by Penacony's citizens, the only person on the planet who could complain about having more cameras shoved in their face on a daily basis was his darling sister. As his assistant, you showed up in almost every photo his fans snapped of him. Over the past four years, his fanbase picked apart everything about you: your appearance, your upbringing, your interests, and your lifestyle habits. You weren't quite sure what spurred them on— sheer jealousy at your proximity to him, or their infatuation for him extending to you— but they had all reached the same conclusion: you were rather unremarkable.

You were raised by your parents in a suburb about 30 miles out from Golden Hour. You performed well enough in university, graduating in the top percent of your class, but not as valedictorian. You managed to get hired at Halovian Corp out of college, and you'd been consistently promoted each year since then, moving from secretary to administrative secretary to personal assistant of a high-ranking director, until eventually, you ended up at Sunday's side.

Though your career was impressive, your life lacked intrigue that news outlets and Sunday's fans vied for. You didn't come from money, you weren't dating anyone famous, and therefore, you weren't worth thinking about. You preferred things that way, but it still didn't make seeing pictures of yourself floating around online any easier.

(Especially when people began overanalyzing how Sunday spoke to you in this video, or looked at you in that photo. Their theories had substance to back them up, and you didn't like to think about it. It took damn near two years to perfect the professional front you kept up with your gorgeous boss, thank you very much, and it had only been about a year since he started actually acting himself around you— you couldn't afford to start slipping up now.)

As you scrolled past a fancam of Robin, a message notification popped up at the top of your screen. You tapped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the sender.

Aventurine: hey. you in?

The IPC director was an unlikely friend, but after dealing with Sunday for years and becoming the unofficial point of contact between the IPC and Halovian Corp, you'd started seeing him often enough that you agreed to go to a bar with him one night when you were off the clock. He was good company, and the two of you kept in touch.

One day, after finding out you'd been talking with Aventurine outside of business ventures, Sunday was oddly insistent that he join you two on that night's excursion. You were hesitant to agree, given that Sunday and Aventurine were civil at best and downright antagonistic at worst. But, Aventurine had readily agreed to letting Sunday attend, so you said yes as well. The night had gone better than expected, and after a few more impromptu meetings, Sunday had started talking to Aventurine regularly as well.

You were glad to see your overly cautious boss make a friend, even if he would never admit that they were.

You: yeah, what's up?

His response was instantaneous.

Aventurine: great. let me in, will you?

Your eyebrows drew together. You'd mentioned you lived in the Platinum Terraces, but you'd never brought Aventurine back to your apartment. How did he know where you live?

You leaned off the couch and toward the coffee table to pick up one of the screens hooked up to the alarm system. You tapped a few buttons on the screen until the feed from the camera facing the hallway came up.

Aventurine stood in front of your door, talking animatedly to your boss, who was propped up against him. You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to to know he was inebriated. He probably wouldn't be so close to the blonde otherwise.

"What the hell?" You muttered, rushing over to the door. Sunday hardly ever drank, and if he did, it was never enough to get him past the point of tipsy. You quickly undid the bolts and threw it open.

Aventurine and Sunday looked up at you. Amusement danced in the former’s eyes, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be very pleased with himself.

Sunday blinked slowly, adjusting his vision to the sudden disappearance of the door. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before his features lit up with recognition. His wings twitched a bit as he tilted his head to the side. The slightest of smiles pulled at his mouth, and your name fell from his lips in the form of a whispered question.

You flushed red. You suddenly felt very self-conscious of your Hanu themed pajama pants.

Your gaze snapped back to Aventurine, who smirked back at you. You ignored it. "What happened?"

"We went out drinking and someone—" He turned to Sunday, whose gaze still hadn't left you. "—got a little carried away."

"And you didn't think to take him back to Dewlight Pavilion?"

"I think you and I both know there would be consequences if he returned there in this state."

You grimaced. He was right. Undoubtedly, there would be paparazzi camped outside of the Oak Family's estate. There always was.

"Okay, you didn't think to take him back to your place?"

Aventurine moved his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Bringing a drunken man home to my brilliant boyfriend who's already waiting for me in bed? You must be praying on my downfall."

You glowered at him, but before you could respond, the rustling of feathers caught your attention. You turned, watching your boss sway on his feet. He watched you with a frown, appearing more upset than you'd ever seen him.

"You don't want me here?" He pouted, and his wings fluttered dejectedly.

Your stomach flipped over, and you reached out to grab his other arm as he stumbled away from Aventurine.

"No, no, that's not it." He moved away from the blonde completely as you reassured him, leaning into your touch. You grunted as you struggled to keep him upright. "I'm just worried about you being somewhere you don't feel comfortable."

He hummed, leaning forward and nuzzling his face in your hair. "I'm far more comfortable with you than the gambler."

Aventurine watched the two of you, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Yeah," he laughed, "we can see that."

You were going to kill Aventurine. You were going to tuck Sunday into your bed, leave a glass of water and an Advil on the nightstand, and then you were going to hit the blonde with your car.

You shot him another glare before turning back to Sunday. You pulled one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his waist to steady him. He turned bright red suddenly and you opened your mouth to ask him if he felt sick, but his wings started flapping again. This close, a few feathers smacked into your mouth, and you sputtered.

Aventurine's unrestrained laughter brought your attention back to him. You snapped at him. "Can you make yourself useful and get the doors for me?"

It took everything you had left in you to get Sunday into your bedroom and withstand Aventurine's teasing, but eventually, you managed to get there. You eased Sunday down on the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ensure he stayed sitting upright.

"Are you feeling sick?" You asked.

Sunday shook his head. He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder. Fighting down another blush (you refused to give Aventurine more ammunition), you tried to pull yourself away from him, but he wrapped his arms around yours and held on.

"Sunday," you said, "I need to go get you water. Can you let go of me, please?"

His voice was muffled by your shirt. "Aventurine can get it."

Said man huffed, but he was too entertained to be truly annoyed, or to decline. "Sure I can," he agreed, before addressing you. "Where are your cups?"

"Top right cabinet," you answered, and he set off.

Sunday's head lolled to the side, rolling off your shoulder. His pout was still there, and it set your face aflame. "It's too hot," he complained.

And then he started to take his coat off.

Well, he tried to. His clumsy movements caused it to get tangled in his arms.

"Here, let me help you," you offered against your better judgment. You stood and reached behind him, carefully guiding his arms out of the sleeves. You turned around and walked over to your closet, hanging the coat on a nearby hook.

When you faced him again, he already had his shirt halfway off.

Xipe, give me strength, you thought to yourself, tearing your gaze away from his bare skin. Your gaze lingered on the wings sprouting from his lower back, which sat curled around his abdomen. When he managed to get the shirt over his head and onto the floor, he unfurled the second set of wings. They spanned the entire length of your bed and were much darker than the ones by his hair. He gave a few languid flaps before settling down, causing them to droop. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against them. So much for keeping up your professional front. You had no idea how you were going to face him when he sobered up.

A choked gasp prompted you to drop your hands from your face. Aventurine almost dropped the glass in shock when he returned.

"Well," he said as he placed the glass down on the nightstand. "Seems like it's time for me to leave."

You sent him one last scathing glare. "I can't believe you."

Faux innocence crept onto his face. "Whatever do you mean? I haven't done anything."

You crossed the room and shoved at him. "Out." You pushed him back down the hall and to the open front door. "Get out of my house."

"Wow. Eager aren't we?" He winked at you.

"Eager to get my revenge. Veritas will love the video I have of you drunk and blubbering about how much you miss him," you said. Then you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door shut, Sunday called for you from the bedroom. You'd heard him use a sickly sweet tone with clients before, but this one lacked the venom that usually accompanied it. It was like he was singing each syllable of your name, savoring the way each sound rolled off his tongue.

"I need to type up my resignation," you muttered to yourself. You could handle Sunday in the beginning when he was standoffish and paranoid, but there was no way you were making it through this.

You walked back to the room, willfully overlooking the way his hanging wings straightened up when you reappeared in the doorway. You stopped a few feet in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Hey," you said softly. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"

Sunday blinked at you, then looked down at the comforter under his fingers. "I am at the bed."

You snorted. "Well, we should get you under the covers."

His nose scrunched in displeasure. "No. It's too warm for that."

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him in this state. "Alright, then. Lay down, and make sure to stay on your side. If you feel sick, there's a trash can right here by the bed. If you need anything else, I'll be down the hall."

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist with surprising speed. He stared up at you with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

You tilted your head at him. "Um, to bed?"

His brow furrowed slightly, the way it usually did when he was in deep thought. "But this is your bed."

"Yes, it is." You slipped your wrist out of his grasp, but he caught you again by the fingers. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. I won't be far."

The hold he had on your fingers was tighter than you thought. You pulled away, expecting to be freed, but tripped a bit when the rest of your body didn't follow your legs. He pulled you toward him and tumbled forward, falling onto the bed. He moved over and drew you closer to him, draping one of his wings across your waist and legs.

You didn't know if your heart had stopped, or was just beating so fast you couldn't feel it.

"Um, Sunday," you said, the rest of your words coming out as a babbled mess. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he just clung on to you, refusing to let go.

"Please don't leave me," he mumbled.

You finally managed to put enough distance between you two that you could look him in the eye. "Sunday," you said, "you're drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning."

He frowned. "I will not regret something I've dreamed of doing for months."

In the end, it was neither. You were certain your heart was beating so hard it burst, and now you were dead. When you tried pulling away again, he placed a hand on your cheek, freezing you in place.

"Please," he whispered. "Just give me five minutes."

The desperation in his voice whittled away at the rest of your resistance. You settled down on the mattress, allowing him to hold you but not getting close enough for it to be considered cuddling. Staring at the ceiling in silence, you mulled over his words.

He was dreaming about cuddling, or intimate touch of some sort. It shouldn't be surprising that a twenty-seven year old man longed for that kind of companionship, but whenever other members of The Family had brought up him not having found a partner yet, he always shrugged them off. You figured it was because he generally wasn't interested in finding someone, but maybe it was just that he didn't want the rest of The Family involved in something as personal as his love life.

"I can talk to Robin about suggesting eligible suitors for you, if you want," you said. "We can even outsource their background checks to the IPC. Aventurine will be annoying about it, but I'm sure he'll agree to do it."

There was a long stretch of silence. Sunday finally spoke just as you'd begun to regret your words. "Why would you do that?"

You looked at him, confused. "You said you've dreamed of this."

"Yes," he said, "I did say that."

Was he really going to make you spell it out for him? Well, it had to be more embarrassing for him than it was for you. "If you desire... intimacy, it's only natural we start looking for potential suitors for you."

His eyes darkened, and a slight scowl pulled at his lips. At least this face was familiar: disappointment.

"I just told you I've dreamed of this," he muttered.

You nodded in agreement. "You've dreamed of holding someone."

"I've dreamed of holding you."

Oh. That complicated things.

You swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. "I'm sorry." Your voice came out as hardly more than a croak. "I wasn't aware that's what you meant."

He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Do you still want to look for other suitors for me?"

You considered your words carefully. "Not if it's something you don't want."

He hummed, then laid his head against the pillow. His breath fanned over your face as he spoke. It smelled like mint and whiskey. "Do you want to be my suitor?"

You pulled your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes. You didn't even know how your eyes got there. "I think you should ask me again when you're sober."

He studied your face for a long moment, then let his eyes flutter shut. "Fair enough," he said.

You laid there for a moment, allowing your heart rate to come back down and letting yourself take him in. His lips were slightly parted, even breaths slipping through them as sleep claimed him. His face wings twitched ever so often, usually followed by a twitch of the larger wing still wrapped around you.

You weren't certain how long you stayed there, just studying him, but at some point your blinks had grown heavier and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You gave one last shove against Sunday's arm and wing to try and free yourself, but even unconsciously, his resolve could not be shaken. He huffed at the disturbance and buried his face further into the pillow. His wing tightened around you as he tried to curl in on himself, dragging you closer to him.

You sighed and rested your head on the pillow again. It was going to be impossible to get away from him now that his limbs were heavy with sleep. Knowing it was futile to try again, you let your eyes slip shut. You shifted into a more comfortable position, moving one of your arms to rest on top of the wing.

Five minutes, you lied to yourself. I'll try again in five minutes.

#hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr sunday x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x you #hsr sunday x you #ceru.writes #ceru.hsr

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emmyrosee · 7 days

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Can we talk about how rintaro probably swallows your engagement ring by accident?

Honestly? Okay listen… Do you think he swallows it? I think he swallows it.

Because like okay. Rintaro puts a ton of planning behind everything he does, he wants to make your engagement this massive scene out of a movie because you’re out of a movie; you swooped into his life and showed him the path he wants to be on, the one that always leads back to you.

But like. Why would everything not crumble around him each and every time he tries to work up the courage to finally pop that four word phrase?

It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy.

An engagement ring, propped on some frosting on the center of the cake, ready for you to scoop up and slip on and give him an excited yes and the world would clap and he’d get a Nobel prize or something for such an extravagant proposal.

Except. That doesn’t happen.

The first bite Rintaro takes, he shovels in his mouth nervously, and there’s a massive shock to his teeth when they clank down hard on the ring on his cake.

How he didn’t notice? How the waiter messed them up? He blames it on the waiter.

Him swallowing the ring..? Yeah no. That’s got him written all over it.

His nerves just got the best of him and sends the large diamond down his throat, eyes bulging out as he realizes. He chokes briefly, grabbing his wine and gulping it down to wash the jewelry down.

Uh oh.

“Baby?” You ask. “Something wrong?”

“…nope.”

The rest of dinner is silent, you trying desperately to make conversation and his mind going insane trying to process what to do next.

Your engagement ring, the object that completely envelops your love in a physical sense is floating in the acids of his stomach, and who knows what the next step in the plan is.

He dreads it.

The car ride is complete silence, you occasionally clearing your throat or sighing to try and strike a conversation, but Rin’s mind is on a complete other planet, trying to make a map of his next move and how to get the ring 1.) out of his body and 2.) to you.

Is he really going to give you a ring he ate? He can’t. That’s vile. But he can’t spend the money on another one, even if it is more than worth it to spend it on you, and-

“Rin,” you whisper, touching his thigh. “You just blew a red light.”

“Damn- I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“Don’t be sorry… is everything alright?”

“Just fine.”

“Are you mad at me?”

His foot slams hard, hard on the breaks, causing commotion behind him as the wailing of car horns fills the air. “God, baby, no, of course not!”

“Then why have you been so quiet?” You ask sadly.

“I can’t tell you.” Out of embarrassment and stupidity, he thinks to himself.

You leave it at that. You go quiet again, and when he makes a move to rest his hand on your thigh, you turn away, and his whole heart sinks.

The rest of the ride home drags on. There’s no more attempts of noise, no more sighs or clearing of throats, only the roar of the engine for a few more miles until you get home. He barely gets the chance to park the car before you’re out and storming up the driveway, clearly upset with the situation. He sighs and follows you in, and you’ve hiked up the stairs to the bathroom. He winces at the slam of the door, and he’s quick to call osamu for advice.

Advice that the twin gives him around countless gawfs of unhelpful, judgmental laughter.

He tells Rintaro to calm down and stop being weird towards you- take a spoonful of laxatives mixed in with water and let the body “process” for as long as it needs to. Get you a new ring, trash the old one and mourn the loss of money after you two get engaged.

He sighs and ends the call, making his way to the upstairs bathroom where he keeps the medicine. You brush past him in a towel, refusing to acknowledge him or his presence with so much as a “hmph.”

The shower he takes alone is cold, his mind is loud and his heart is pounding and his stomach queases for more than a few reasons. How could he have messed this up so badly? It was supposed to be cute! Just flashy enough for him to flaunt you, but simple enough to not be messed up.

Yet he messed it up.

Rintaro dries himself and makes his way into the bedroom, where you’re already burrowed under the covers on your side of the bed. He throws on some form of pajama before making his way downstairs to make his laxative drink.

One tablespoon of laxative mixed with water, allow body to process for one day before repeating, let all powder dissolve before drinking- he follows every single one of the thorough instructions completely, and he starts to drink the concoction with a scowl of disgust.

The hell is this made out of?

“What’re you still doing up?” You ask, and he swallows the last of the laxative with a wince.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he confesses. Then, he sighs and turns to face you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know.

You’re still upset.

“Listen,” he begins, carding a massive hand through his hair. “About tonight. It was absolutely nothing you did. It was my fault, and my annoyance and attitude had nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” you sigh, but there’s an unconvinced lilt in your voice.

“I wanted this to be a perfect night, I wanted it to go so well-“

“Rinnie?”

“And I’m sorry, about my silence in the restaurant,” he sniffles, big hands pressing against his face and rubbing roughly. “The chef was supposed to put it on our cakes and his little rat waiter messed it up, and-“

“Put what on our cakes?”

“YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING!” He groans in complete agony. “Your ring! Fuck! I tried so hard to make the perfect proposal, and I just wanted it to be beautiful-“

“My… my ring?”

“Uh…. Yeah?”

“My engagement ring?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, and he feels like he’s going to upchuck every bit of food he’s ever eaten.

Though that may not be the worst thing at this point.

“You wanna marry me?” You wail, collapsing to your knees in excitement. He perks up slightly, slipping of his seat to join you on the floor.

“Of course I want to marry you,” he confesses. “God, I’ve… I’ve wanted to marry you for the past three years, I got the ring perfect four months ago.” He blinks out a line of tears to mimic yours, and you cup his cheeks in your trembling palms. “But every time I tried to propose, something went wrong, and I… I didn’t know how to do it anymore. I’m sorry baby…”

“Rintaro,” you say softly, chuckling around the your quivering voice. “I never needed a big proposal. Ever. All I ever want is for you to promise me we’ll be together. And that’s more than enough.”

His face softens before he lets a hand smack his face in obliviousness, disappointed in himself that he got so lost in trying to impress you that he almost didn’t.

“Put it on me!” You squeal, holding out your hand. He turns a scarlet red and looks away.

“I uh… I can’t.”

You deflate slightly, and he gives you an embarrassed smile. “Why not?” You whimper, emotionally fried from the rollercoaster he just put you on.

“I don’t have it.”

“What!”

“I mean, technically i do,” he says, gnawing his lip. “But I… uhm… I can’t give it to you yet. I uh… I need a few days. And… a few cleaners to look at it.” He gives you a shy chuckle and his toothy grin is mixed with frightened eyes, and your own widen. “The uhm… the ring was on the cake…”

Your hands clasp over your mouth, tears immediately drying and replacing with small, choked and stifled laughter.

“You didn’t,” you manage. He nods, uncomfortable. “Did… did you eat my ring, Rintaro?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Damn waiter gave us the wrong cakes!”

“AND YOU SWALLOWED IT?”

“I WAS NERVOUS, OKAY?”

“RINTARO!”

You two clutch each other on the cold kitchen floor as you laugh, heads knocking against each other as you steal kisses from between cackles.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says once you’ve both seemed to calm down, and he quickly pops on his feet to grab the bread on the counter. With the twist tie, he takes it off the bread and makes his way back to you. “Give me your hands.”

The tie only fits around the top part of your ring finger, and you sniffle softly at how silly and sweet this whole thing is.

“We’re gonna get married,” he says between an emotional wheeze. “And we’re going to grow old together, have our nine dogs and four cats.”

“No kids?”

“Ew gross.”

“Yeah, sure, as if you don’t bend to my every whim bro.” You shift slightly to rest your back against his chest, curling against his still sitting frame. “And our kids are going to love the Miyas-“

“Because you love the Miya’s. I have nothing to do with that.”

“As if Osamu’s not going to be your best man,” you scoff. He smirks and buries his face in your hair, listening to your words weave through his brain and calming him down from the disaster of a night.

Then, he hums, “you want to take my last name?” He asks, and you give him a small swat on the leg. “What! Im just asking!”

“Of course I’m going to take your last name,” you say, turning your head up to face him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, tearing up again when you nod.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

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