#circulating nursing

[californiaquail]

THAT SUCKED SO MUCH ASS 😭😭😭😭😭 bro i'm never doing that again holy fucking god

[muirmarie]

i'm at work but someone dare me when I'm off to write the cas/hawkeye/margaret (dean/cas & hawkeye/margaret) time-traveling post 15x19 ptsd fic that I suddenly very much want to write

[mainfaggot]

tw eating disorder talk, pt.2 to the last post in the tags (once again, no mention of numbers that could be triggering, just a heartfelt rant bc I've been so afraid of talking about these things on here, but i really just need to get everything out bc . I feel crazy)

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

“We should all lower the thermostat. If you’re cold just wear layers and eat and drink warm things”

Yeah but MY HANDS ARE COLD

[gaytobymeres]

Just gave blood for the first time whoop!

[candypaintcolors]

don’t get me wrong i LOVE the operating room but i do miss the floor and that sense of autonomy i felt there. i’m heavily debating picking up a casual job on the side to get that feeling back. i still miss some aspects of caring for patients and being that ‘primary’ care giver that they see most frequently out of everyone on their team and getting to know them and take care of them. circulating and scrubbing is important but i miss being more hands-on with the patients. i’m even considering being a medic right now. i just want to be able to do everything and know as much as i can from med-surg to ICU, ED to OR. I’m still not ruling out trying to get to medical school as my graduate degree as opposed to a higher level nursing degree. hopefully once i’m off orientation and figure out what i want i can do everything i decide i want out of this career.

[porcelain-dollbones]

something i end up writing a lot in my job is that a given patient's capillary refill time is less than 3 seconds (very basic test for blood flow hydration etc). anyway this is expressed in writing notes as "cap refill <3 sec" and every time i write it i go like. <3 ♡♡ hehe in my head

[reidsdimples]

Feverish

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥

Spencer can’t keep his hands off of you in his fever induced delirium.

Inspired by a scene from The Tearsmith (on Netflix)

“What happened?” You ask Morgan who’s got Spencer’s arm draped over his shoulder.

Spencer is out of it, delirious, coated in sweat. Yet he grins at you.

“Popped for the flu, probably from those kids earlier this week,” Morgan answers as he puts Spencer in the passenger seat of your car.

“I knew the flu shot was a waste of time,” Spencer muses. “It’s an educated guess at best as for what strain will circulate through the population,” he scoffs and shoves on sunglasses.

“Wonderful,” you groan.

“You’ve already been sick this season, you’re probably fine,” Spencer mumbles and lulls his head back in the seat.

“I think that’s why he said to call you,” Morgan smiles.

“Well, it’s great to see you again. Stay safe,” Morgan hugs you by way of farewell.

Taking care of your sick ex boyfriend on your long anticipated three day weekend was not high on your bucket list. But here you were.

You drop into the car next to him and he’s already fast asleep. Feeling his forehead, you confirm that he’s burning up.

You and Spencer had ended things amicably four weeks ago. Your crazy schedule as a labor and delivery nurse didn’t mesh well with his chaotic FBI job. It didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. Perhaps that made seeing him so sick that much harder.

“Come on,” you help him from the car and into your house.

He stumbles up the front steps but you’re able to hold him up.

“Sorry, dizzy,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” you place your hand at the center of his chest, pushing yourself under his arm further to support his tall frame. The heat coming off of him could almost burn you.

You had never been more grateful that you opted for a one floor house. You imagined getting him up a flight of stairs would be impossible.

“Here,” you sit him on the edge of your king sized bed but he just flops onto his side, tucking his face into your pillow. He breaths in deeply, you can hear how congested he is.

You hurry to your medicine cabinet to get him a concoction of fever reducers.

“Take this,” you sit him up.

He barely opens his eyes, just groggily obeys and trusts the pills you’re giving him. He knows you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You wipe the water from his lips gently. He purses his mouth as though to kiss the pad of your thumb longingly.

You slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, you needed to cool him down. He’s drenched in sweat.

“Sit up,” you pull him up with a hand on the back of his neck and push the shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes trace his body longingly, but only for a moment.

You gently lay him back down and start undoing his converse so he can get more comfortable. He groans at the movements as you tug the shoes off and discard them, adoring his mismatched socks.

You brush his hair from his forehead and prompt him to open his eyes. He does but they’re heavy with fatigue.

“You’re going to be fine Spence, just tell me if you need anything,” you whisper.

You gently caress his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed. You relax your hand in the center of his bare chest, unable to help how drawn to him you are. You missed him. His lean body with the thin sheen of sweat had your heart fluttering. Touching him was too much, too overwhelming. You sigh and stand from the bed.

His arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you weakly back into the bed. You fall half onto him and half next to him.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs and buries his face in your stomach like you’re all he’ll ever need. You run your hands through his long hair and hold him close to comfort him. It doesn’t even bother you that his hair is damp, you just want to help him.

He pulls you more onto him and twists his hands into your shirt. You’re nearly straddling him now, leaning over him as he groans and begs for you to be closer.

“Spence,” you warn.

He nudges his face into your abdomen, between your breasts. He’s so out of it you doubt he’s even aware of his actions. His mouth clamps over your nipple which is hardening through your shirt. This is so wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

Your body reacts to him, your hips grinding down against his. You can’t help it.

Your tank top rides up and his mouth trails sloppily against your now exposed skin, causing you to suck air through your teeth harshly. He’s kind of kissing you, but more seemingly needing to touch you with his mouth. He leaves moist trails of kisses against your stomach. He grapples at your body, he’s needy, he’s panting. He’s whimpering against you.

He’s burning up.

“Shhh, Spence,” you sink down next to him and nestle into the crook of his arm.

You push away your arousal. That was not happening right now.

Besides, clear headed Spencer wouldn’t touch you that way after breaking up.

“Need you,” he moans.

“Not right now baby,” the nickname slips out. It was habit.

His buries his face in the crook of your neck, he’s breathing hard as his hand trails down your body. He digs his nails into the soft skin on your hips and squeezes lovingly. His fingertips move down the plane of your stomach and graze just under the edge of your waistband but he goes no further. You take in the sight of his large hand on your body again, those fingers, the way the muscles and veins move as he does. Your traitorous pussy clenches around absolutely nothing. Ugh.

He begins to kiss the soft spot of your neck and you can’t help but to tilt your head to give him better access. His hand moves up to squeeze your breast, pulling a moan from you. God you needed him so bad. But he was so sick. His desperation for you was driving you mad.

You hear him shudder as a chill washes over him. But he ignores it, moving so his laying on you, kissing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. His eyes are still closed, heavy with sickness. But he slides his strong arms under you to hold you even closer to him as he continues to kiss and sucking at your neck. He nudges your tank top down and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Ah, Spencer. Baby,” you writhe beneath him, but he’s got you pinned.

He kisses you until he can’t anymore, until his grip on you grows weaker and his mouth lingers on you longer.

He grows tired and rests his head on your chest. He keeps you beneath him, most of his body weight laying between your legs. His head rests on your stomach as he starts to doze off. His warm breath fans against your skin.

You push your hand into his hair to keep him right where he is. He’s absorbing your body heat, his breathing beginning to slow.

A content sigh escapes his chest and he finally falls asleep.

You can still feel the ghosts of his hands and lips, messy and needy on your body. It’s like he was devouring you, like you were the only thing that could save him. He was absolutely out of his mind, acting on instinct and primal need despite being sick. It’s like he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

[6esiree]

Getting Dared to Call Them Daddy

Summary: You get dared to call Alastor, Lucifer, and Husk daddy.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly NSFW (but it’s mostly suggestive?) A little bit of rubbing on Lucifer’s part. MINORS DO NOT READ!!!

Alastor:

You and Alastor weren’t exactly acquainted with each other. You found it hard to talk to him, the way he always smiled making him incredibly hard to read. That’s why you never bothered him—well, until now, because Angel Dust had dared you to do the unthinkable. “Call him daddy,” he whispered, watching as the expression on your face contorted into one of horror, “I dare ya to call the Radio Demon daddy.”

You couldn’t back out, not when you had told Angel that you weren’t a pussy upon agreeing to play Truth or Dare. And fuck, you weren’t! This is what you said to yourself as you walked over to the bar, watching how Alastor nursed a drink. Fortunately, Husk was on break, so whatever happened next would stay between you, him, and Angel, who watched in anticipation from the parlor with a shit-eating grin.

“Hi,” You said, tentatively stepping behind the bar to help yourself to some brandy.

Alastor hummed, acknowledging your presence as he set down his glass, which was empty. You observed the way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded and the smile he always wore on his face more relaxed.

He proceeded to tap on the empty glass with his claws, silently asking you to pour him another drink. You did just that, feeling yourself become less nervous as you realized he was drunk. Fuck, it was now or never, you thought.

“There you go, daddy,” You said, making sure to set the glass down at the last part.

Alastor’s hand froze on the counter, his claws barely grazing the drink in front of him. You continued serving yourself your own drink as if nothing had happened, which only served to further confuse the poor man.

“What was that, darling?” Alastor asked, the usual static behind his voice suddenly absent.

You set the bottle of brandy down and picked up your glass, quirking a brow at him as your lips settled on the rim. You tried not to wince when the liquid traveled steadily down your throat. God, brandy was gross.

“What was what?” You asked, hoping he didn’t hear the way your heart-rate picked up.

“You said something as you gave me my drink,” Alastor said, his ears twitching.

“‘There you go, your brandy?’” You supposedly repeated, innocently blinking at him.

Alastor was drunk, he knew that, but he swore he heard you utter something else. However, considering that he was unaware of your dare and that you had never bothered him in the past, he had no choice but to believe you.

“My, I am hearing…strange things,” Alastor shook his head, picking up his drink as you stepped back from the bar, “My apologies, darling.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You said, smiling at him tenderly before turning away to shoot Angel a threatening look, who was struggling to stifle his laughter.

Alastor remained in his seat at the bar, his face forward but his eyes following you until you left his line of sight. It was at that moment that he decided that this would be his last drink, the way his face flushed and his pants tightened as the seemingly false memory of you calling him daddy circulated his mind solidifying his decision.

Lucifer:

The day Lucifer visited the hotel, you were immediately captivated by him. Just like his daughter, he did not live up to his hellish title; it’s no wonder Lilith relinquished her halo, his way of being triumphing the looming threat of eternal damnation. You would have done the same, you admitted to Angel Dust during a game of Truth or Dare, never anticipating that he would weaponize this information.

“Go and call the big boss of Hell daddy,” Angel said, a wicked smile on his face. “I dare ya.”

You stared at Lucifer from the parlor, observing the way his back slightly arched as he leaned over the bar. Fuck, this was not going to be easy, and Angel knew that. The last thing you wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of winning the game, though. So without further thought, you stood up and made your way to him, flipping off Angel as he chuckled behind you.

Lucifer straightened his back upon hearing someone approaching, the grip on his glass tightening when you graced his eyes. He had only interacted with you a few times, so naturally, he was nervous. Plus, you decided to sit right beside him when nobody else was at the bar. It was a strange choice that you had accidentally made, but you couldn’t scoot over without causing any offense.

“I—uh—hello?” Lucifer said, coughing in a poor attempt to cover his stuttering.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked, leaning over the counter to pour yourself a drink, Husk absent due to the late hours.

You almost sighed in disappointment as you realized Lucifer’s choice of liquor was whiskey, but it was too late to back out. You had already popped open the bottle, observing how the amber liquid steadily collected in your glass as you poured yourself a drink. Throughout all of this, you could feel Lucifer’s stare on you, his mouth slightly agape while he seemingly debated his response.

“No! No—of course not,” Lucifer quickly said when you sat back down, adding the next part with a nervous laugh, “I must have looked pitiful for you to come over here, huh?“

You held your drink against your chest, shaking your head at his question.

“Oh my goodness, no!” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder in reassurance, but it was only for a split second, “Not at all.”

Apparently, you had taken Lucifer by surprise, the way he knocked down his drink a testament of that. His face flushed in embarrassment as you whined at the sensation of whiskey dripping down onto your lap. The worst part is that you looked like you had pissed yourself, the amber liquid coating your crotch and running down your thighs. Ah, fuck, but you couldn’t get mad at him.

“Fuck! I’m so, so sorry!” Lucifer yelped, getting up from his seat and jumping over the bar to get a rag.

The man was in a state of panic, so much so that he failed to realize what he did next. Instead of handing over the rag to you, Lucifer crouched down and tried to dry the whiskey off of your lower half, practically massaging you through the denim of your shorts. You could only stare at him in shock, trying to keep your legs shut as he dragged the rough material back and forth against your crotch.

It wasn’t until halfway into the act that Lucifer became aware of the compromising situation he had inadvertently designed. You looked down at him through your lashes as his hand stilled, watching how his eyes stared blankly through your stomach. He probably felt like an idiot, and while you didn’t want to further embarrass him, you decided to take advantage of his flustered state.

You slightly parted your legs, immediately snapping Lucifer out of his trance. Before he could stutter out an apology, you reached down and grabbed ahold of his jaw, forcing him to make eye contact with you. He blinked, an unreadable expression on his face as your hand slithered down the column of his throat, feeling the way it bobbed underneath your palm in anticipation.

Of course, you remembered a certain spider was watching from the parlor, so you didn’t do anything inappropriate. In fact, all you did was hook your fingers under Lucifer’s bowtie, encouraging him to stand up until he was at level with your face. You savored the way his ragged breaths fanned against your lips, but only for a bit. Smiling, you relinquished your grip on him.

“I’ll forgive you,” You said, watching how relief washed over Lucifer’s features, “So long as you let me call you daddy.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Lucifer said without further thought.

You blinked, definitely not expecting such a response—but hey, you weren’t complaining. When Angel howled in the background, tossing his head back with a hand over his heart, Lucifer jumped back and began to profusely apologize, unable to believe how little self-restraint he had. You tried to assure him that everything was alright, but the way he practically begged you to fuck him haunted him as he laid in bed later that night, reliving the scene in his dreams, albeit a more explicit version.

Husk:

Husk hardly ever spoke to you, but he indulged in your presence nonetheless. You were the least intrusive individual he had ever met, a trait which was incredibly lacking among Hell’s population. That is why on the rare occasions you got drunk together, he revealed something about himself, chuckling as you listened in awe. His favorite thing to do was play cards with you, though, especially as you had a taste for the typical Vegas experience before your death.

You and Husk weren’t close, however, just closer than most of the residents were with him. Still, Angel Dust suspected the old man harbored a soft spot for you, observing the way his pupils dilated whenever his eyes settled on you. So like a true menace, he decided to utilize the worst tactic possible to confirm his suspicions: a game of Truth or Dare.

“I dare ya to call ol’ whiskers daddy,” Angel said, his gold tooth glistening under the dim light.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach, the very thought of calling Husk something…suggestive frightening you to the core. You had spent a long time trying to build whatever you two had, so was something as silly as a dare worth risking destroying that?

When Angel said that he knew you’d pussy out upon noticing your reaction, all your worries immediately vanished; you weren’t going to lose to that fucker, not when he looked so smug. Unfortunately, the need to prove him wrong was only enough fuel to get you to the bar.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Husk asked as you took a seat.

Your body language gave you away, but even if you tried to hide how nervous you were, Husk had a knack for reading people. Plus, he knew you enough to know that something was up with you.

“Ah, no, just came over here for a drink,” You said, nervously wringing your hands on your lap.

“What d’ya want?” Husk asked, unconvinced but also not going to push you on the topic, “Somethin’ sweet?”

“You know me so well,” You said, offering him a smile.

“‘Course I do,” Husk chuckled, whipping up a cocktail for you and sliding it across the counter in no time. “Here ya go, doll.”

You accepted the drink, bringing the glass to your awaiting lips, closing your eyes and sighing in content as the salt on the rim mixed with the fruity concoction. Husk never failed to make something as putrid as alcohol taste good, and he knew that, a pleased look on his face as he absorbed your reaction.

When you opened your eyes, you swore he had a look of adoration in his face, but perhaps that was just you. Anyway, as you allowed the alcohol to do its job, you thought about clever ways to call Husk daddy, albeit in vain. Fuck it, you were just going to have to say it, and if he reacted poorly, you could just blame Angel.

“Is it to ya likin’?” Husk asked, settling a hand on his hip as you finished your drink.

You looked up at Husk, face flushed as the alcohol warmed you up…that and the fact that you were about to say something that would most likely shock him. He quirked an eyebrow at you, anticipating your response; but instead, you stuck out your tongue, lapping at the few grains of salt that had collected on your bottom lip. When his eyes dilated at the seductive action, you decided now was the time to strike.

“Sorry, it was just so good,” You said, perching your chin on your palm as you added the next part, “Thanks, daddy.”

Husk had opened his mouth to say ‘You’re welcome,’ but when you called him daddy, he was only able to muster a squeak. You never thought that an old man with a rich baritone voice was capable of producing such an adorable sound, but here you were, biting your lip as you tried not to react. Husk was already pissed, though, especially as Angel laughed unapologetically from the parlor. But at least you would make up for it soon, the sight of you writhing underneath him from overstimulation compensation enough.

[gilverrwrites]

Fake Dating tropes with (some of) the birds and the bats. Ft. Babs, Bruce, Dick, Duke, Jason, Kate, and Tim.

GN!Reader, ≈200-250 words each CWs: None graphic mentions of sex, none-graphic injuries, none -graphic mentions of drugs, intentionally minipulative behaviours.🩷

Barbara

The two of you weren’t exactly not dating. Attached at the hip, making goo-goo eyes in person and inappropriate comments over the comms line when apart; it was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that something was going on there, you just hadn’t put a name on it yet. It’s something the two of you had made plans to nail down and discuss during your sort of but not really a date-date tonight.

But you had only gone and got yourself shot during what should have been a simple trip to the bank. It wasn’t life-threatening, but you’d been rushed off in an ambulance, you’d need surgery, a lot of meds, and months, if not years of physio to get your arms back into shape.

Barbara didn’t know that at the time though, she’d been panic-stricken from the moment she found out. Emotions getting the better of her, brain running at 100 miles a minute as she rushed to the hospital.

“Partners and family only.” The nurse had told her. And without hesitation, she’d responded: “I am their partner.”

Her lie paid off, allowing her access to your bedside, as well as a full update on your status. There wasn’t another face in any universe you would have rather seen upon waking up from surgery. Now you just had to keep up the appearance of being a married couple until you were discharged, maybe longer.

Bruce

It’s a well-organised and thoroughly thought-out publicity stunt. Bruce needed someone new on his playboy roster, and you needed the media to circulate literally anything other than the less-than-flattering leaks that had been sold to them without your consent.

All you had to do was follow the itinerary. A couple of soft launch social media pics, a few whispers to the looser-lipped socialites of your circles, and some ‘private’ candid photo ops of the two of you dating:

Snuggling under the shade of an oak tree in Gotham Park, wearing matching caps and sunglasses that do little to hide your identities as you read a shared copy of Romeo and Juliet together.

Sitting in his car, in the parking lot of Big Belly Burger, munching on an unseemly large order of burgers and fries together. Nobody questions why the previously tinted windows of Bruce’s car are now clear.

Intimately and provocatively embracing, tastefully half nude on the balcony of your uptown apartment. The press didn’t need to know that you’re actually renting an Airbnb for the weekend, for exactly this purpose, and nothing more.

Everything was carefully planned, right down to the T for maximum impact and minimal effort. The only thing that hadn’t been accounted for was one, or both of you catching feelings in the time you’d spent together.

Dick

He’s never been able to say no to you, you know it, he knows it. So when you ask him in an act of desperation to be your fake-boyfriend for your ex’s wedding he’s quick to inform you that this is the dumbest idea he’s ever heard, and that he’s 110% on board.

He takes you shopping for matching outfits, picks you up on the day in Bruce’s flashiest car, suprises you with something pretty, compliments you loudly and romantically at every chance and won’t take his hands off you all the way through the ceremony. He's attentive and outwardly passionate. Not only is he playing the role of the world's best-ever (fake-)boyfriend, he’s making sure everyone in the vicinity knows you’re a (fake) couple.

It’s during the reception when that funny feeling really starts to settle in. The hairs on edge, butterflies in your belly feeling. Maybe it’s the happy, romantic atmosphere, the soppy music, the way his hands sit so perfectly on your hips as he sways you round and around on the dance floor. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you with those mesmeric blue eyes but damn if you don’t want to kiss him, right here, right now.

Duke

It was a stupid idea, and his family would give him so much shit if when they found out, but you’d argued that “we’ll never know if it might actually work unless we try” and that had sold him on giving it a go. Even if he thought about calling it off at every turn.

What was the stupid plan, and why was it necessary? Well, your ex was dating his crush, and you’d figured fake-dating might redirect their attention to the two of you. And if not, no harm done, right?

Big harm done. Over the next few months, Duke and yourself had spent most of your free time in close proximity. Sharing clothes, food, and ‘plan-related’ intimate details about each other. When you weren’t together you were glued to your phone, awaiting his texts, refreshing his socials.

Somewhere amongst all the dinner dates, and ‘strictly-business’ public making out sessions, your plan worked; his crush took notice, how could they not, Duke was perfect.

Your ex did not. Not that you cared, you’d moved on, to someone who was about to become equally as unavailable.

Jason

He was trying to infiltrate an infamous drug ring so he could take it down from the inside and needed someone in the know who could double as arm candy to sell his story. You’d already been trying to get your foot in the door for weeks now, but lacked enough street cred for them to take a chance on you. It only made sense that you would join forces.

For a while it’s fun, hanging off his arm, letting his hands roam your body freely, loud-whispering all the things you wanted to do to him for anyone to hear. You really enjoyed pretending to be his devilish trophy partner. You enjoyed the nights where it wasn’t pretend even more. But all good things must come to an end.

He served his purpose of getting you where you needed to be, but now he was getting a little too close to building a compelling case against the ring, you couldn’t let that happen, you had much bigger plans for it.

What? You’d promised information, not loyalty.

Kate

You’re both socialites with fairly large internet followings who run in the same circles. Your relationship has always been that of friendly acquaintances until a photographer snaps an innocuous photo of you both entering the bathroom at the same time and the media goes crazy.

Despite putting out very clear, separate statements, clarifying that there is nothing going on, your respective followers grab the ball and sprint with it until you both innocently start to play along. Leaving flirty comments on each other selfies, acting appalled when the other is rumoured to be dating someone else, tagging each other in scenic snaps that could be considered romantic: graffiti hearts, colourful sunsets, starry skies from the candlelit table of a wine bar.

It’s completely harmless of course, it’s all a joke, until it’s not. Until you actually find yourself flustered by her comments, really wishing she was sharing your dinners, until you brace yourself and send the first DM.

Tim

He really is the whole package. Handsome, hardworking, dedicated, polite, and as smart as he is rich. You can understand why your grandma was so excited, calling you from across the country to confirm if you were the mystery person spotted out and about with Bruce Wayne’s second youngest. You hadn’t lied when you’d said yes, you’d just neglected to tell her that you were only friends. You figured it would get her off your back about finding a nice boy for a while. It kind of felt nice, talking to somebody other than yourself about your big fat crush on him and in your defence, you hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly.

One minute she’s bragging about her grandchild’s new boyfriend to the ladies in her swim aerobics class, the next she’s booked a flight to come and visit so she can meet him.

If you’d known what she was planning you would have confessed, but she’d already forked out the cash for her plane ticket so you swallowed your pride and begged Tim to help. He wouldn’t even have to do much, just spend the weekend nodding and smiling at an old woman’s stories and then he could reap the rewards of your eternal gratitude. You’d promised 6 months of undisputed lording it over you and a lifetime of freshly made cold brew.

Smile and nod, that’s all you expect, but apparently, that was too easy. Tim just had to make what was already an embarrassing situation, a million times worse. ‘Perfect grandson-in-law’, your ass.

[coff33andb00ks]

More Than Anything

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language notes: complete rework of Until You because i wasn't happy with that that still follows the same premise and yes reuses a lot of the same things, but i promise it's different (better) - also a very special thank you to @driverlando for her help with this

Heartbreak and Hits: Y/N Y/L/N and Justin Bieber’s Rocky Romance Ends in Tears and Tunes

The whirlwind romance between pop sensation Y/N Y/L/N and global superstar Justin Bieber has come to a dramatic and emotional end. After nearly three years of ups, downs, and endless speculation, Y/N has finally confirmed their breakup in a raw and revealing Instagram post. The announcement comes just days before she’s set to kick off her highly anticipated world tour, leaving fans both heartbroken and intrigued by what’s to come.

A Love Story Born at the Grammys

Y/N and Justin’s relationship began in 2021 after a chance meeting at the Grammy Awards. The pair hit it off instantly, with insiders describing their connection as “electric.” Despite their undeniable chemistry, the couple’s relationship was far from smooth sailing. Rumours of infidelity, intense public scrutiny, and the pressures of their respective careers often overshadowed their love story.

Cheating Allegations and Cryptic Songs

As their relationship progressed, whispers of trouble in paradise began to circulate. By late 2022, rumours of Justin’s alleged infidelity started making headlines. While neither Y/N nor Justin addressed the cheating allegations directly, fans couldn’t help but notice the shift in Y/N’s music. Her lyrics became darker, more introspective, and filled with themes of betrayal and heartbreak.

Y/N’s 2023 album was particularly telling, with several tracks seemingly alluding to the turmoil in her relationship. While she never mentioned Justin by name, the lyrics spoke volumes. Lines like, “I gave you my heart, but you broke it in two,” and “Trust is a fragile thing, you shattered it with a fling,” had fans speculating that she was using her music to process the pain of her partner’s alleged unfaithfulness.

The Engagement Ring Mystery

In mid-2023, Y/N was spotted with what appeared to be an engagement ring, sparking a fresh wave of speculation about her relationship with Justin. The ring, a stunning piece with a massive diamond, was the talk of the town. Was this a sign that the couple had worked through their issues? Or was it a desperate attempt to save a crumbling relationship?

For months, fans and tabloids alike debated the significance of the ring, but Y/N remained tight-lipped, neither confirming nor denying an engagement. Their public appearances together became increasingly rare, leading to more speculation about the true state of their relationship.

The Bitter End

Early 2024 brought the final, heart-wrenching chapter of Y/N and Justin’s love story. Y/N took to Instagram to announce their breakup in a post that was equal parts salty and heartbreaking. “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” she wrote. “I thought we had forever, but it turns out, I was wrong. Moving on isn’t easy, but it’s necessary, especially when your partner does not respect you.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans flooding her comments section with messages of support. While Y/N didn’t go into specifics, her tone was clear: she was deeply hurt, and the breakup was far from amicable. The caption, coupled with the timing—just a week before her world tour was set to begin—left many wondering how she would cope with the demands of performing live night after night, while still nursing a broken heart.

What’s Next for Y/N?

As Y/N prepares to embark on her tour, fans are eagerly anticipating how this emotional rollercoaster will influence her performances. Known for her raw and authentic stage presence, it’s likely that the breakup—and the feelings surrounding it—will play a significant role in her shows.

Industry insiders predict that the tour could be a cathartic experience for Y/N, allowing her to channel her pain into powerful performances. “Y/N’s always been an open book with her music,” a close friend of the singer revealed. “This tour is going to be intense, emotional, and maybe even a bit therapeutic for her. She’s hurting, but she’s also a professional. She’ll pour all of that emotion into her music.”

While the world waits to see if Justin will respond to the Instagram post, it’s clear that Y/N is ready to move forward, albeit with a heavy heart. As she embarks on her tour, fans will be watching closely, eager to support her through this challenging time and to witness how her heartbreak will shape her music and her future.

Stay tuned for more updates as Y/N’s tour kicks off, and the next chapter of her life unfolds.

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, pierregasly and others ynyln: Merci beaucoup, Paris! Je t'aime et à bientôt!! ❤️💋

↳user3: why are f1 drivers here???            ↳ user4: a few were at the show            ↳user5: and she's always been vocal about being a fan ↳pierregasly: magnifique spectacle, rendez-vous à Monaco!            ↳user4: omg she's going to Monaco!            ↳ user9: FINALLY she gets to see a grand prix ↳ user8: almost 6 months in and each show gets better            ↳ user7: her breakup was the best thing to happen            ↳ user9: real ↳ user6: y'all seen the videos of the f1 guys?            ↳user7: my two worlds colliding

liked by ynyln and others f1goss: Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly at Y/N Y/L/N's concert in Paris!

↳user1: Y/N IN THE LIKES??            ↳ user2: Y/N follows 😭 ↳ynyln: omg 👁️👄👁️            ↳ user2: Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE            ↳ user3: she's so unserious ↳user4: i wonder if they got to meet            ↳ ynyln: no we didn't 😩

liked by landonorris, charles_leclrec, scuderriaferrari and others ynyln: For the first time I will be attending a Grand Prix! Vroom vrooms make my heart go brr. Eternally grateful to scuderiaferrari for the invitation. (They don't have to know my favorite driver is on mclaren)

↳scuderiaferrari: 🤨 ↳scuderiaferrari: we're sure you'll be a converted tifosi by Sunday ↳mclaren: y/n is our fan 🙏🏻 Oscar and Lando on cloud 9 now ↳f1: looking forward to finally welcoming you! ↳user1: alright y'all is she a Lando or Oscar girlie            ↳ ynyln: can't I love them both 🥺 ↳user2: great now I gotta watch all the grand prix stuff this week for a glimpse of mother ↳user3: why haven't you been before?            ↳ user4: tours, covid, j*stin...

liked by charles_leclrec, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: Dinner in Monte Carlo. Do I go all in on black or red?

↳ scuderriaferrari: red, obviously ↳ landonorris: black ↳ charles_leclerc: Red ↳ maxverstappen1: Black ↳ ynyln: all these blue check marks 😩 ↳ user2: yn stays forgetting she's the biggest blue check mark ↳ user1: not max joining in the mclaren vs ferrari fight for YN ↳ mclaren: Papaya 🥺 (but black)            ↳ scuderiaferrari: go comment on your own guest's posts            ↳ mclaren: you sent the invite after we mentioned doing it            ↳ landonorris: do better admin            ↳ mclaren: We'll get her next time            ↳ redbullracing: not if we get her first            ↳ landonorris: if not we're going on strike            ↳ oscarpiastri: we what ↳ oscarpiastri: I quite like the red ↳ user3: I love that YN asked opinions on her fit but it's just f1 drivers and admins fighting over her 🍿🍿 (liked by author)            ↳ ynyln: it's amazing right? no one's fought over me before            ↳ user3: bffr ↳ redbullracing: we vote blue            ↳ mclaren: that's not an option?            ↳ redbullracing: we still vote blue            ↳ scuderiaferrari: don't you have an energy drink to go sell ↳ user4: came for the pics, stayed for the f1 chaos            ↳ ynyln: giggling all the way to the restaurant honestly

note: I know it's not HUGELY different (yet) but I will be taking it in a slightly different direction. Also using Until You's taglist, so if any of you don't want to follow this just use the form to be removed please

Taglist:

@lichterfee | @formulaal | @a-beaverhausen | @dullypully | @wobblymug | @apollosfavkiddo | @callsignwidow | @saachiep81 | @midnights-lily | @waterlilypat | @kiwi43-81 | @fastfactory | @leodette | @calumthomcs | @landinhoe | @driverlando | @maxlarens | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @lorena-02 | @hiireadstuff | @theseus-jpg | @landoslutmeout | @ivy-34 | @trisharee | @colmathgames2 | @norrissainz33 | @littlegrapejuice | @spiderbeam

be added (or removed) to my taglist here

[crushmeeren]

UH UH UH UH UH

COULD YOU LIKE MAKE A ONESHOT OF HINATA AND A PREGNANT!READER? LIKE HINATA WATCHES US FEED OUR BABY AND HES LIKE "ooooo I wanna taste" AND UHM YEAH? IDK- IM SORRY IM NEW TO YOUR BLOG PLEASE IGNORE IF ITS OUT OF YOUR BOUNDARIES-

I absolutely CAN write this for you friend. It’s on the shorter side and I sort of rushed writing it, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy! 𖦆

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Master List Link ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

All characters aged up/18+.

⋆ FEM READER ⋆

It’s on a Saturday night when Shouyou finds himself unable to stop staring at you. To be fair, he always gawks at you, but tonight he would insist it’s different.

It’s been at least three months since you’d given birth to your baby boy and in the spirit of complete honesty, neither of you had wanted to touch sex with a ten foot pole since you were given the green light.

Being new parents is, for lack of a better word, exhausting. It’s bone achingly tiring and at this point you can’t even remember what it means to be turned on.

As the two of you relax side by side in your bed this evening, you’re preoccupied with nursing your son, Reno. You’ve lifted your shirt up to dangle around your neck and out of the way, freeing your breasts and making your nipples turn to pebbles due to the chilly air circulating the room.

Shouyou had been resting his head on the headboard, craning his neck to watch you with tender adoration as you nourish Reno.

He leers at the way your tits bounce gently against your chest as you get situated, shorts becoming a bit too snug the more you move around. The fullness of your squishy breasts and the soft tone of your voice when you speak to Reno suddenly has an all too familiar warmth rushing through his belly. The same lust that caused you to end up with Reno in the first place.

Shouyou shifts in place, cock jumping when he starts to get the powerful impulse to get his own taste of your tits. It’s as if the previous three months have built up an insurmountable tension inside of him, itching to be released and his veins start to pulse with arousal.

The breast that’s not currently being ravaged by a little monster begins to leak a few drops of ivory milk, and Shouyou has to bite his fingers and squeeze his toes together to keep from moaning as it trails down the swell of your tit.

“Sho?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

A flush burrows into his cheeks and his eyes flit up to meet yours, his expression somehow sheepish and coy simultaneously.

“Sorry baby, you just look stupid hot right now. I can’t stop thinking about taking a taste myself. I want to lick it off.” He pouts playfully. “Why does Reno get to have you all to himself?” Shouyou whines. Your head tilts back briefly in laughter as you maneuver your son up to burp him.

“Well he’s a baby for one.”

Reno babbles happily over your shoulder and Shouyou can’t help but grin widely and rub the little one’s back in soothing circular motions.

“Well yeah, but I don’t hear you saying no to it being my turn next,” he teases, reaching up a sneaky hand to grip a handful of your breast and squeeze. You bat his hand away and rise from the bed, letting your shirt fall back down into place.

“I’m putting Reno down in his room and then I’m gonna ride you, sound good Sho?” You speak as casually as if you’re talking about the weather and Shouyou vibrates in place, elbows getting caught in his shirt in his rush to strip naked.

Upon return you raise an eyebrow when you spot your husband stretched out lazily on the bed. He beams at you, one arm folded behind his head and his already stiff cock resting on his lower belly. He circles his shaft and teasingly tugs on his cock a few times.

The sight makes your pussy clench around nothing and you waste no time discarding your own clothes on the way to the bed. Once you crawl onto the bed and up to your other half, it’s like remembering how to ride a bike. A muscle reflex that’s come back to life.

Sinking down slowly onto Shouyou’s cock and bouncing in his lap reminds you of the first time you ever slept with him. The pleasure blisters through your limbs, heat rushing down your spine and you’re convinced you could cum from the stretch of his cock alone.

When he leans up and sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail his name. You dig your nails into the back of his skull and throw your head back as milk flows freely across his tongue.

Your husband moans against you, swallowing a mouthful yet never letting go as he grips your waist, digs his heels into the mattress and snaps his hips upwards in frantic movements. You stay suspended in air over his lap and let him work you over in a way he only knows how.

In what must be less than five minutes, he’s dragging you over the edge. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and your pussy sucks in his cock like it never wants to let go. Shouyou thrusts a handful of times and then yanks you down into his lap, grinding up against your ass. He releases your nipple with a pop and his cock jerks while he fills you to the brim with a throaty moan of your name.

It takes a couple of moments of quiet panting, your forehead resting on his before you half heartedly punch him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for??” Shouyou rubs his shoulder dramatically and leans back to pout at you.

“That’s for not pulling out! I swear Shouyou, if we just made another baby I’m never having sex with you again!”

Shouyou’s eyes crinkle and he laughs. Then, he laughs even harder when you smush his face with your palm and push until he falls flat on his back. Your expression pinches as you stand, the sticky cum trailing down your inner thighs grossing you out.

Your husband snickers, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you flip him off, muttering under your breath as you make your way to the bathroom to get clean.

Reno chooses then to live up to his nickname of little demon and lets out an ear piercing scream. Shouyou calls out that he’s got it and jerkily tugs on his previously discarded pair of shorts before speed walking to Reno’s room.

As much as he wishes for you to get pregnant again, he knows now is not the time. One baby is complete chaos and he’s reminded of that even more when he strides into his son’s room where he’s currently wailing loudly enough to burst an eardrum.

Oh well, he can always try again.

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for Writing and Drawing Amputees: Bandaged Stumps

When writing and drawing amputee characters, unless your character only just lost their limb, they don't need to wear a bandage over their stumps.

to be clear, eda's depiction in the show was fine, since she'd only just lost her arm and went (presumably) without any medical attention, but because the show didn't have much time to show her afterwards, I've noticed a tendency of the fandom to draw her wearing the bandage permanently, so that's why I'm picking on her for my example lol.

It's a bit of a trope at this point, and I think it comes from one of a few different places:

Amputees do wear bandages on their stumps, but usually only for the first 6-12 weeks post-amputation, sometimes longer if the amputation was a result of a burn. It's possible people saw this though and assumed it was permanent.

Most amputees wear a sock made of either cotton or silicone under their prosthetics to provide them with some extra padding. These socks, called liners, often stick out from the top of the prosthetic socket and could possibly be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

Some amputees will wear compression garments for a few months to a few years after their amputations which could also be mistaken for a bandage from a distance. These garments are designed to stop swelling and reduce phantom pain, but they aren't bandages.

Stumps get cold easier because their circulation typically isn't as good as the rest of the body, so some amputees will wear socks over them even if they aren't wearing a prosthetic to keep warm, which again could be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

This one is funny, but in my experience unfortunately, it's the most common: people think the end of an amputee's stump is just a perpetual open wound that never heals. Meaning to avoid "gore" it needs to be covered. I've met fully grown adults who believed this until I showed up to work/uni without my prosthetics or socks on.

People are uncomfortable with seeing an uncovered stump and so put bandages over it to avoid confronting their biases.

Some combination of these points.

But yeah, unless your amputee has only just lost their limb in the last few weeks, they don't need a bandage.

The ironic thing too, is that for most amputees, bandaging a stump is nearly impossible. I've been in and out of hospital since I was 1 year old and only ever met 3 nurses and no doctors/surgeons who could successfully bandage my stump in a way that the bandage would even stay on. This is because stumps are usually tapered in shape (meaning they are wider at the top, closer to the body, and thinner at the bottom), so gravity will pull the bandage off 9 times out of 10.

On a final note: it's ok to show your amputee's stump, it's not gore, there's no blood, it just looks like a regular limb that just stops early. In fact, if you are writing/creating anything for kids or that is likely to be seen by kids, I encourage you to show your amputee's stumps at least once. I used to work on a disability awareness program for kids, and I lost count of the amount of times kids were terrified of me, because they all expected my leg to be bloody and gory. For a lot of kids, I was their first real-life exposure to an amputee, meaning they'd never even heard of people like me, or they had seen an amputee on TV, but because the show went out of its way to avoid showing the person's stump, they assumed it must have been because there was "something scary at the end" that they weren't supposed to see (kids are surprisingly perceptive, they will pick up on stuff like that without you realising). And scared kids aren't good at articulating why they're scared, and would often say really mean or hurtful things to me. I knew not to take it personally and learned how to handle those situations, but not everyone is used to dealing with kids. For a new amputee (or anyone who's less confident in their disability), the kinds of things those kids would say could be absolutely confidence destroying. I never blame the kids, it's not their fault, but the whole situation could have been avoided if they had seen people like us before they had the chance to hear the wrong info. Good representation like this can be the difference between a kid crying, making throw-up sounds and calling an amputee "disgusting monsters" (all things I've had kids do/say) and them just being like "oh ok, cool."

[lecsainz]

main thing

request: charles + a famous actress who is about 2 years older than charles and has a daughter from another relationship, but the biological father is not in the picture (or he is an idiot)

pairings: charles leclerc x actress!reader

authors note: man, it took me almost two days to write this, ugh! hate getting that writer's block in the middle of something I start. I was like, "come on brain, why you gotta do me like that?" but nah, it wouldn't cooperate. so frustrating!

✩. . . masterlist !

PART TWO

Age Gap Romance Takes a Dark Turn, Leaving Y/N Struggling with Broken Heart and Baby Daughter

By TMZ Entertainment News

Hollywood's buzzing with the latest shocking breakup, and this time it involves rising starlet Y/N Y/L/N and her much older ex-boyfriend, a prominent music mogul. As the dust settles, insiders reveal that the split was anything but amicable, leaving the 28-year-old actress devastated and facing heartache alone with their baby daughter, Sophie.

Sources close to the couple paint a picture of a once fairy-tale romance that crumbled under the weight of immense pressures and a significant age gap. Y/N and her ex, whose name we won't disclose for legal reasons, initially captured the public's attention with their whirlwind love affair.

Despite the initial bliss, the relationship quickly took a tumultuous turn, with the insider sharing, "It was a rollercoaster from the beginning. The age difference played a big role in their clashes, but Y/N was deeply in love and believed they could make it work."

However, cracks in their love story started to show, and rumors of disagreements and heated arguments circulated throughout Tinseltown. Our sources indicate that the final straw came when the music mogul reportedly abandoned Y/N and their infant daughter, Sophie, leaving her shattered and blindsided.

"It was like he flipped a switch," another insider revealed. "He just walked away, leaving Y/N and Sophie to pick up the pieces. It was a shock to everyone, even those closest to them."

The breakup was described as "dramatic and emotional," with Y/N left grappling with the aftermath of his sudden departure while caring for her baby daughter. Friends of the actress confirm that she's going through an incredibly tough time, trying to navigate single motherhood while nursing a broken heart.

"It's heartbreaking to see Y/N going through this," said one close friend. "She's a strong woman, but this has taken a toll on her. Sophie is her world, and she's solely focused on being the best mom she can be for her daughter."

As for the music mogul's actions, sources claim that he has shown little remorse for the way things ended. "He's been dismissive and unapologetic," one industry insider revealed. "It's like he's moved on without a second thought, leaving Y/N to pick up the pieces."

For now, Y/N is surrounding herself with a support system of friends and family, relying on their love and encouragement during this challenging time. Hollywood is buzzing with the news of the breakup, and fans around the world are sending messages of love and strength to the young actress.

As this Hollywood drama unfolds, the world will be watching to see how Y/N navigates her way through heartbreak and single motherhood. We'll continue to bring you the latest updates on this gripping story, so stay tuned for more.

ynupdates

liked by charlesleclerc , selenagomez , and 28.879 others

ynupdates sun, sand, and summer vibes with yourinstagram and the girls! beach day in monaco is lit! no room for negativity here – just good times, laughter, and making memories with our faves y/n and selenagomez! and of course, little sophie is the cutest beach babe ever!

view all 9.497 comments

selenagomez ❤️❤️❤️

f1addiction CHARLES WHAT YOU DOING HERE??

ynmoves my girl looks so happy 😁

ylngomez i LOVE this friendship

lecslerccc charles that’s is a move?

saaaainz he just liked is nothing to worry 😭

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[earthtooz]

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[leonw4nter]

And When The Sun Left, I Thought You Never Loved Me

RE4R!Leon x F!Reader royal AU

You yawn and feel the exhaustion take over your senses and weigh down your lids yet sleep does not claim you; you consumed three thick books, all three stacked on your bedside vanity but you find yourself unable to sleep, for some odd reason. Warm milk with honey, sniffing peppermint oils, and an opened window to let the cold evening gale circulate in your room– you’ve tried it but you still continue to lay awake and irritated in your bed, turning over to lie on your stomach to groan into your silk pillowcase. You’re sure that the sun will rise from the sea again in a few hours, the tweeting of birds rending you that the night is over and you’ve lost the chance to rest for the day ahead will be busy, overseeing wedding preparations with your betrothed, Leon. Only having migrated to his palace a week ago, you were still in the process of familiarization with the ins and outs of his grand residence. You assumed that sleeping in a new environment, one wildly different from your manor, affected your sleeping habit.

One of your nurse-maids has also informed you that being far from your husband-to-be, especially in the evenings, could be one of the sources of your troubles with sleeping. Though he is to be your husband in a matter of days, you are not very familiar with him and the same goes for him; you two have only met a month ago, over a talk of paintings and music. You must admit, he seems to be genuine of heart and truly kind to any person he meets but you know that this could change as soon as he marries you and is expected to give the kingdom heirs. You wince at the thought of heirs, unprepared for such an undertaking despite the public’s expectations, especially the families joined by your union. At first, you were hesitant and against whoever your parents paired you with but after getting along and taking a liking to the crown prince of the kingdom, you are now only half hesitant to this marriage.

Turning to your side with your eyes trained on your curtains gently swaying along to the cold breeze, you wonder if Leon is also struggling to fall asleep right this moment or if his own nurse-maids have given him remedies to induce a deep and restful sleep. What do they give him? Warmed milk or cold milk? With or without honey? Does he even need these in order to fall asleep? Since Leon is often busy with building strength and engaging in his studies in his palace’s own library, you figure that each day for him must be eventful if slumber claims him so easily. The more you ponder about his sleep habit and regiment, the more you grow envious of him right now; you itch to get up, depart your chambers, and head to him, maybe even fall asleep tucked away safely into his side– if he loves you back and is willing to breach the conduct between betrothed pairs– to sleep in separate chambers until the night of their wedding. As soon as the idea is entertained, the harder it is to ignore its appeal to your current state. You sit up and shake your head, trying to clear your mind of any thought that involves you walking down unlit and unfamiliar halls, looking for the door of the crown prince’s royal chambers. Even if you are familiar with the maze-like residence, you doubt that you can get through his doors that are guarded by elite-ranking knights. Sighing, you accept that you will hear birds soon and will appear before your family and his with dark bags beneath your eyes.

“Ah, yes. I struggle with sleep,” you suddenly recall him telling you quite some time ago. “The images of battle, the smell of rust and blood harass me just as I slip into slumber. It… it haunts me.” You sit up, pity settling deep in your bones; you have experienced losing sleep due to nightmares every once in a while yet here he is, plagued and haunted by the monsters of his past and present every night. The bags underneath his eyes suddenly make sense, along with his frequently chapped lips and his exhausted aura. Not even the most calming and fragrant oils could help him, for those only served as temporary relief for the troubled young prince. Determined to go to him, more for his sake than your own this time, you grab your maroon cloak, and quietly leave your bedchambers. A few steps down the hall, a considerable distance from your door, you regret not bringing along a lantern with you. Despite the silver gleam of the moonlight, this would be little help to a place as foreign as this. Far from your door and forcing yourself to be familiar with what will soon be your residence, you continue on in the dark with a hand around the walls as you tread along, feet gently padding along the carpet.

“Floors are equal to rank,” you mumble to yourself. “The king and queen are on the uppermost floor, crown prince on the level beneath theirs. I’m on the lower levels, which means I will climb a staircase… twice or thrice.”

You’re not sure where you are or where the staircase is. You’re certain that there is a painting hung by the stairs but as you continue walking, you’re certain your memory may be playing tricks on you. To make matters worse, you’re growing increasingly afraid as you head to his chambers alone in the dark. The eyes of the portraits of past royals feel as if they are moving and staring at the back of your head, ready to pounce from the gold frame and maul you. Doing the sign of the cross and mumbling a proactive prayer for yourself, you dash down the hall and turn to the first hallway extension you see. You keep a hand firmly fastened around your mouth, mentally reminding yourself to keep yourself silent. So much for staying silent when you bump your elbow against the wall, startling yourself, and tripping over your own feet and landing harshly on your side with a thud. You are not in pain, not yet at least, because your attention is turned to the stretch of the hallway behind you and the dead-end in front of you. You focus on leveling your breathing and trying to limit the noise you’ve been making since earlier, the thudding and the yelp you forgot to conceal. The dead-end in front of you appears to melt and disintegrate, the walls opening up but you look up and realize that it’s not a dead-end; it’s a door.

“Who dares to interrupt the crown prince’s slumber.” A gravelly, baritone voice demands. You gasp, looking up at the man in front of you. Leon. Your eyes widen, breath hitched in your throat.

“My prince!” You whisper with urgency, adjusting your position to be kneeling in front of him, forehead to the ground with your hands laying flat beside your head. “I- I apologize. Disrupting and causing a ruckus was far from my intentions!”

Leon crouches and tips your chin up politely, blue eyes inspecting your blushing and reddened face. “You look troubled. What bothers you?”

“I ran here, my liege. I am unfamiliar with the palace and bumped my elbow, which startled me. I apologize and ask for your forgiveness, my prince.”

“You did not exactly answer my question, my princess.” He says, helping you stand up. He lays his hands on your shoulders, looking you over before he gently takes your forearm and inspects your elbow. A slight redness right where the anterior band should be.

You mentally berate yourself for not giving him an answer, wishing that you hit your head instead and fell concussed so that you didn’t have to deal with this situation.

“Ah, my deepest apologies once again.” You keep apologizing, you look like a hooligan! “I came here to see you, sire. I…” I wanted to see if you were kind enough to let me into your bedchambers and perhaps let me lay by your side to fall asleep! “I… was wondering if you were sleeping soundly. I t-thought about you, my prince.”

He hums, gently setting your arm back to your side. You take a swift moment to observe him– he still had bags beneath his eyes and his lips were cracked as ever, his skin paler than usual, and droopy lids. Tufts of wheat-colored hair stood at odd angles at the back of his head, a telltale sign of him tossing and turning in his bed for only god knows how long.

“Are you being honest, my princess?” He asks. “You thought about me?”

“Yes, my liege.” you respond, dipping your head in a shallow bow. “I found trouble with falling asleep and you came to mind and I wondered if you were also having trouble falling asleep.”

“I am.” He curtly says. “I am and have been finding trouble sleeping. I… I find it warming that you would think about my well-being.”

“You, my prince, are human just like the rest of us. The worst spares no one,” you respond with a soft smile. “Would you like me to accompany you until you fall asleep?”

A look of surprise crosses his face and you wish you never offered that in the first place, appearing desperate in front of the man you must impress.

“Yes,” he quietly says as he opens his door wider for you. “I would love that.”

It’s your turn to be surprised yet you nod and cross the threshold of his chambers for the first time; the walls were covered in gray wallpaper, meticulously embossed with dainty damask patterns in gold leaf. The ceiling was painted with a mural of a soft sky with hues of some pink and light blue along with clouds of different appearances, some looked like cotton while others looked like feathers. The baseboards and crown molding of his room were all sculpted and painted gold as well, similar to his bed frame with an impressive canopy that loomed over. His sheets were made of dark gray silk with subtle damask embroidery, as well. A magnificent chandelier crafted in the form of a chimera hung overhead, decorated with diamonds and sapphires. His room is just as breathtaking as he is, his space a reflection of his personality. You let go of a breath you didn’t know you held, head craned towards the heavens to admire the artwork above you. If you thought your room was grand, his was even more so.

“I see that you seem to like the mural on my ceiling,” he observes.

“Yes, I do. It is quite the beauty,” you softly smile. “I did not expect you to have such a treasure like this confined in your quarters, my prince.”

He grins, walking behind you as he observes your impressed face. When visitors take a peek into his room, the sole thing they would consider as a treasure is his chandelier. He expected you to do the same but instead opted for the soft pink and light blue view suspended above your head.

“I am glad to know that you still recognize the colors despite a tiny sliver of the moon beaming in. Consider me impressed.”

You grin, giving yourself a small pat to the shoulder when Leon isn’t looking your way. “So, my princess, shall we retire for the evening?”

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You and Leon lay on opposite sides of the bed, both of you sleeping on your backs. His eyes are shut, brows furrowed while you try not to fall asleep just yet, keeping your gaze trained on the canopy above. Every now and then, you tilt your head to steal glances and take in the finer details of his face– the slope of his nose, the permanent furrow of his eyebrows, and his long lashes. Before you can help it, a giddy smile manifests itself in your lips the longer you stare at him.

“You are staring at me, dear princess.”

Your eyes widen, snapping your head to face the opposite side as you shut your eyes and tense your body. Your ears pick up a heavenly sound, his laugh, beside you and you turn to face him, confused. “What amuses you, prince?”

“What amuses me,” he faces you. “Is how I am utterly wrapped around your delicate finger, my dearest princess. You have me wrapped around the same delicate finger you used to carefully take apart the walls I built around my heart yet I do not wish to take action against that.”

Your cheeks burn beet red, heart challenging even the fastest racehorses that Leon’s father owns. You nod, a silent acknowledgement of his flattery for you cannot properly conjure the words to say to react to that.

“It makes me nervous that our wedding is to take place soon,” you speak up. “I am not sure if I will be the princess the people will need, if I can serve you properly. There are certain things that I am not ready for.”

You feel Leon’s finger experimentally brush against your knuckle underneath the duvet, careful so as not to cross a boundary that you’re not ready for yet. Returning the same gentle brush of a finger, you slowly link fingers with him as your heart explodes in the most vibrant colors inside your ribcage.

“I am certain that you will treat the people with utmost respect and kindness, my princess, worry not. As for serving me, your presence alone is a service beyond measure. I do not ask for more.”

You giggle, a melody Leon looks forward to hearing.

“Thank you. How about you, my prince? Are you nervous?”

“Very much so, we both have a lot to bear on our shoulders with this union. I must admit, that is one of the few reasons I have been lying wide awake almost each night. I am sorry that even you are disturbed.”

“No, my prince. I am not disturbed at all– far from it, actually.”

“We tend to apologize frequently,” Leon observes. “Another thing we share in common.”

“We’ll add another trait that we share in common soon,” you beam.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Our surnames. We will share them soon.”

Leon’s eyes widen, warmth travelling from his cheeks towards the tips of his ears. He quickly tilts his head to the side, away from your eyes, and lets out a wide grin. He must admit, you got him there.

“As anxious as I am, a part of me cannot wait.”

“I believe we share the same sentiment.”

Slowly and carefully, you tilt your body and inch a little closer to Leon. His positive reception to your presence is taking a toll on you, glowing with confidence and that confidence leads you to be a little more forward with your actions.

“A little closer, dearest.” He says, moving a little closer to you. “You are not quite near enough, in my opinion.”

After a little more shuffling and getting cozy, you two finally settle into a position that is comfortable and fall asleep together with his arm wrapped around you and your arm slung around his chest.

NOTE - I feel so old rn coz yesterday, only my right knee was the one hurting... now it's both knees + my back 💀 Joints cracking at every movement too so now I've been drinking milk... why? I think my bones need the extra calcium <3 Anyways, sorry yall for this mid ass fic 😭 My brain stopped working mid-writing but for some reason I was still determined to finish this so.... yeah :') I decided to do some cleaning before posting this and I came across a bunch of old school records from when I was younger (think 6th grade and lower) and bruhh... I WAS SO STUPID?!?!?! LIKE I STRUGGLED WITH SPELLING AND IDIOMS?? HUH???? I NEVER KNEW THAT??? I always thought I understood idioms well so ion know what the fuck happened... like I looked at schoolwork that involved idioms and I did get good scores, perfect even, but for some reason the comments on my OLSAT performance then said that I was below average when it came to spelling and idiomatic expression understanding so 😭😭😭 No clue mates.......... Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The hanging jewels divider was made by @mikeykuns , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).