#girls covered in BLOOD! like if u agree

[kanakori]

vampyre<3

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 40: ‘lean on me.’

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | hurt & comfort | (stubborn!reader, mention of sick, reader is john b’s sister but no mention of race etc, getting shot, blood, shitty ending cause i’m tired🙂‍↕️)

my first request! thankyou anon, i hope u enjoy this <333

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

For your entire life, you’d been stubborn. Back when you were a kid, you’d refuse to admit that you were sick even when you were puking your guts out into the toilet, there was one time you climbed a tree because you wanted to be like JJ and John B and you ended up slicing your arm on a hanging stick; you kept it from them until the next day when they noticed the scab.

Your brother and your friends were used to it by now, you smiling through your tears when you got cheated on, or stumbling home alone after drinking too much because you were embarrassed to call for help.

No one was worried about you when you began the treasure hunt for the gold your old man had been searching for, you were a strong girl who could take care of herself and them. You weren’t worried about yourself either, not until you heard the bang.

“Shit!” JJ yelled from somewhere in front of you, ducking down with his hands over his head. You knew this lead was bullshit, a trap of some sort.

“Over here!” Kiara called, finding an entrance to the old warehouse you were running near. She held it open and the group of you ran in, panting and groaning. She slammed the door closed as you rushed in and pushed a table against it for good measure.

John B let out a laugh of disbelief, followed by JJ, Pope and then Kie. “Shit, that was a close one.” He chuckled, sitting down to lean against the wall.

“Too close,” Kiara agreed, sitting down beside him to catch her breath.

You weren’t listening to a word they were saying. Your ears rang as you looked down, blood was seeping into your white tee, your body numb from the pain.

“You good?” John B asked, looking over at you. Your eyes flickered over to him, panic all over your face. He slowly stood up and walked towards you. “Hey—” he stopped, eyes landing on the blood that covered your left side. His eyes widened, his face paled and he was rushing at you like a mad man. “No, no, no!”

“What?” JJ worried, coming over from where he’d been leaning against a wall. He followed John B’s gaze and had the exact same reaction, complexion going green and hands starting to shake as he grabbed your waist.

“It’s fine—” you croaked out, inhaling sharply at the pain that followed.

“Shut up. You’re shot,” JJ argued sternly. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and gently pulled your shirt up, apologising when you cried out in pain. He inspected it, you were losing a lot of blood. “We need to get to the fuckin’ hospital!”

“Can’t afford that,” you coughed out, making everyone shoot you a dirty look.

“Would you rather bleed out? Come on, we need to get back to the van,” Kiara responded, looking around to see if there’s another exit.

You tried to stumble after them, clenching your jaw. JJ wrapped his arm around your waist, you tried to push him off and his grip tightened. “Lean on me. Let me help you,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to die, JJ,” you sobbed as he held you up, following the rest of the group. John B was up ahead, storming down the hallway you’d found to find an unlocked door.

“You’re not going to,” JJ argued, his pace quickening. “I’d never let that happen. Don’t panic, I know it hurts. You just have to hang in there a little longer, can you do that f’me?”

You just nodded your head, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you finally leant on him properly; finally accepted the help that he’d been trying to give you for years. When you climbed that tree, he’d been at the top holding his hand out for you to take. When you were sick, he’d offer to hold your hair back and follow you around with food and water. When you got cheated on, he went round to your ex’s house and punched him right in his smug face. He was always there, you just never accepted the help.

You’d gotten lucky, the bullet had grazed you so the procedure was no where near as difficult as it could have been. When you woke up, head foggy and body numb, you felt a hand holding yours.

“Hey,” JJ murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “John B’s just gone home to grab you some shit.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” you replied croakily — he was instantly passing you a cup of water.

He gave you a look, shaking his head at you with amusement in his eyes. “You really ain’t worked it out yet?”

“Worked what out?” You asked, putting the cup back on the side table once your mouth started to feel less dry.

“That no matter how much your stubborn-ass may hate it, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” JJ stated, sounding stern yet soft all at once.

“Why?” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up at his words. Was he just being friendly? Did he mean it because you were his best friends sister?

“‘Cause you’re, like, the most important thing to me,” he shrugged, looking down at where your hands were clasped together. “And I hate that you just let yourself struggle alone.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your’s and JJ’s relationship had always been funny banter, witty comments and buried love. You’d never heard him say something so honest, and if you’d been standing it would have sent you to your knees.

“You’re the most important thing to me, too,” you replied, your brain too foggy with the pain meds to think of anything else to say.

He flashed you a grin, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “From now on, you ain’t dealing with shit alone. Definitely not when you’ve just been shot.”

“Grazed,” you corrected.

“Big-whoop. Get ready for me to be your personal butler, your ass ain’t leaving your bed once we get home,” he teased, making you roll your eyes fondly. 

You didn’t necessarily hate the idea of him taking care of you, not that you’d ever admit that to him; although from the glint in his eyes you were pretty sure he already knew. You were pretty sure he felt the same way.

John B was in for a real surprise when he gets back to the hospital — because his best friend and sister are most definitely head over heels in love.

[delulujuls]

young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

[only-lonely-star]

ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

[dreamywriter143]

Could I request a Neteyam x Reader and its like the beach scene where him and Loak get into a fight with Aonung and his friends? I dont have a plot in mind and I just have this scene in mind! lmk if u need ideas! xo

Badass

Status: Request by Anon

Genre: FLUFF, Some violence. Neteyam being speechless.

Warnings: Depictions of blood, fights and cursing.

Parings: Neteyam X Metkayina Reader (Y/n)

Summary: Upon first meeting Y/n, Neteyam was awe-stricken. Such a beautiful, elegant and poise Na’vi. He was entranced before he could even stutter out a hello. Now facing the challenges of fitting into the Metkayina, Neteyam is thrown into another loop seeing Y/n’s fierce side. He finally understood the meaning of a word his father said from time to time. Badass.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you for your request Anon!! I totally agree, the beach scene was so good. Neteyam was so cool in that scene😍. I hope you like how I added to your request. Also, I suck at writing action scenes. So, please excuse that!! Enjoy!!!

———————————————————————-----

The day Neteyam met Y/n, was unlike any other. 

Feeling fear for his family's safety amongst a clan he heard very little about, Neteyam felt out of place. Being stripped of everything he knew growing up he felt utterly bare as the dreadful feeling weighed down on his shoulders greatly. Neteyam’s eyes wandered aimlessly amongst the new clan his family seeked refuge upon. 

The nagging feeling of being watched, of being analyzed so critically set an unsettling feeling deep within his stomach. If he could, Neteyam would cover his family from the harsh glares the onlookers sent their way. It didn't help when two boys around their age came up towards them mocking their apperence, specifically Neteyam’s appearance. 

He felt uneasy as they commented on their physique, the difference between them. Every fiber in his body stood to respond back, to put them in their place for blatantly disrespecting his family in such an outlandish way. But before he could utter a single word, an angel appeared. 

At least that's what he thought when she graciously walked through the crowd soundlessly. The crowd seemed to move around her, giving her space to walk through them. Like her presence alone demanded respect. She held herself proudly, her beautiful curly locks falling past her shoulders as they swayed along with her steps. She sent a quick smack to the shorter boy before hissing their names in warning. When she turned to him, Neteyam felt the wind being knocked out of him. 

Staring at him out of curiosity were beautiful e/c hues, the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They didn't stare at him in fear or disgust, but in curiosity and concern. He could feel himself clam down under her stare alone, his shoulders relaxing significantly as they made eye contact. Her face was adorned with white freckles and markings that seem to only enhance her beauty, a beautifully crafted necklace hanging around her neck. The small smile she sent his way only increased the fluttery feeling in him, his palms began to sweat as he shakily reached up to greet her. Thankfully she returned it easily, a smile formed on her face. Before Neteyam could savor the small moment the chief flew over them, demanding attention. 

When Neteyam caught his little brother openly gawking at another female who walked up to his angel, he knew they were special. Both girls watched him and his family with kind and sincere smiles. They made his heart feel a little lighter, she made him feel lighter. 

After both girls showed his family their new home and Neteyam could have sworn she was the definition of perfection. The way she graciously walked and showed them their home, the way she held herself just expressed elegance and poise. She was respectively polite to his family, her eyes warm with sincerity. She had a charm about her that Neteyam couldn't help but be attracted to. She was a textbook of what a princess would be, a word he heard his father use towards his sisters. 

Neteyam was quite shocked to find out she wasn't the chief's daughter, but the older sister to the shorter male, Rotxo, who was his siblings diving instructor. She was being trained as a Tsahìk under Ronal as she showed great promise, Neteyam had found out after asking about her from Tsireya. 

It came with great disappointment when he realized she wouldn't be helping them with their lessons as they desperately tried to adapt to the sea. But luckily, the disappointment didn't last long.

“How are the Numeyu’s??” (Students) Y/n asks teasingly, taking a seat in between her brother and Neteyam as they were in the middle of breathing exercises. Neteyam immediately sat up straighter in her presence, he hadn't even heard her footsteps when she snuck up on them. She would make for a great hunter, but she didn't seem to have that air about her. She seemed so calm, so quiet. She didn't seem to have it in her to even hurt a fly.

“Great! Neteyam and Kiri are doing exceptionally well” Rotxo praises, his eyes traveling to Kiri who looks away. The small purple hue along her cheeks going unnoticed. Y/n’s ears perk up at her brother's words. 

Rotxo was one of the best free diver instructors they had around their age group. His praise meant alot. Especially to Y/n, who held her younger brother on a high pedestal. She turns to Neteyam whose eyes were already trained on her, a smug smile twitching along his lips. 

“Oh? That's impressive” Y/n notes, grinning at the boy who she grew close with over the past few weeks. Neteyam and Y/n immediately hit it off, though they barely had interactions as Y/n was always busy shadowing Ronal, the moments they did share only made them realize their similarities. Being the eldest and holding many responsibilities on their shoulders. They bonded over the matter, growing quite close.

With Neteyam and Y/n always teasing each other, almost bordering that of flirting. 

“Guess I'm a quick learner” Neteyam offers, a cheeky smile breaking through. Y/n tilts her head back as a silvery laugh escapes her lips. Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sound, a sound he swore he would burn deep into his soul. 

“That's good to hear, I guess you won't be needing my expertise?” she teases, her eyes crinkling in delight. Neteyam quickly shakes his head. He didn’t want her to think she wasn’t needed.

“N-No! I mean, we’ll still need your h-help. We have a lot to learn” Neteyam stutters out. He didn't know what it was about her that always left him a stuttering and embarrassed mess. He ignores the giggles that erupt around him at his hurried response. Y/n simply smiles, a smile that rivaled the sun itself in Neteyam’s eyes.

“I guess I will stay after all, Forest Boy” she teases, sending a small wink.

Truth be told the nickname had bothered Neteyam at first, he didn't like being called that especially by Ao’nung. But whenever it came from Y/n’s lips it sounded endearing, almost heavenly. 

It didn't take long for Y/n to tag along during lessons often, always offering helpful advice that aided the Sully’s. She also grew very close with all the siblings, immediately clicking with Kiri. The girls could go on and on about the beauty the nature around them offered. Kiri always shared stories of their home as well as herbs and remedies they used. Y/n always seemed eager to learn more, showing Kiri some of the techniques they would use here. 

The bond she grew with Tuk only caused Neteyam to fall deeper in love with her. Always watching the duo from afar with a lovesick expression. Tuk adorned her, claiming to become like her as she grew up. Neteyam couldn't help but start having fantasies about what it would be like to have a family with her. She seemed to love children, a motherly aura radiating off her. 

Neteyam’s feelings for Y/n would only grow, the female Na’vi proving to be a force to be reckoned with.

~~~~~

It had been like any other day, Neteyam set off early to sneak in some extra practice with his Iiu as he wanted to impress a certain h/c Na’vi. Just as he was about to call it a day the sound of arguing catches his attention as he races to shore. A specific voice stood out as he recognized it immediately which only pushed him to walk faster. 

Lo’ak.

Neteyam stomps towards the group noting how Kiri stood to the side, her arms crossed over as if to cover herself. The group had circled Lo’ak, pulling and prodding at him. Neteyam rushes in, shoving Ao’nung off his brother with force. He creates distance between them and his siblings, his glare unwavering.

“You heard what she said-'' Neteyam growls, his eyes solely on Ao’nung who steps back. “-leave them alone”. 

The commotion had gotten the attention of some Na’vi nearby, specifically a certain female Na’vi who rushed towards them in a hurry. 

“Back off…..Now” Neteyam presses his finger against Ao’nnung’s chest, pushing him back. He ignores the attempt his friends takes as Ao’nung silenced him by raising his hand. He had a smug smirk on his lips but chose not to retaliate against Neteyam.

 “Smart choice” Neteyam acknowledges. His ears twitched to the sound of hurried footsteps, turning to see Y/n, her face flush with color as she ran towards the group. She stops in front of them, her eyes darting between Ao’nung and Neteyam. 

Neteyam glances back at his sister who looked to the ground in sadness. He felt his anger bubble inside of him as he turned back to the group. “And I need you to respect my sister” he adds, dismissing the hiss that is sent his way. He looks at Y/n who had an apologetic frown on her face. Netreyam nods at her, his lips forming in a thin line. He pulls Lo’ak with him so they could leave. 

“Ao’nung, you skxawng!!” Y/n hisses, stopping the Sully’s who stare at her in surprise. Y/n was always collected, calm and kind. The venom that dripped from her tone alarmed them all. Ao’nung seemed like the only one unfazed. 

“What will your father say! This is low, even for you.” she hisses, taking a step towards Ao’nung who scoffs at her words. He keeps his mouth shut, his eyes glancing at Lo’ak. He sends a mocking smile that seems to rile the younger Sully who pulls away from his brother's hold. Neteyam goes to pull him back but he's already walking back to the group. 

“What would Rotxo think? Yaymak ‘evan!!” (Foolish boy) The girl hisses, her tail swishing behind her angrily, thumping against the sand. Her e/c eyes scan over the friends, her disappointment evident as she hisses in anger. Ao’nung huffs in annoyance, shrugging it off. He smirks wide as Lo’ak walks closer to them. 

“So? Why would I care? That's what they are, isn't it? They’re freaks, the whole family” 

What happened next no one present would ever believe, not in a million years. Y/n’s hand juts out landing a powerful punch square against Ao’nung’s jaw. A sickening crack is heard as her clenched fist collides with him. Ao’nung stumbles back, his eyes dazed as if he didnt know what had hit him. Y/n quickly follows it by landing a swift kick against his stomach sending him tumbling against his friends as they all fall against the sandy floor beneath them. 

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” Y/n huffs out, her eyes burning with anger as she clenches her fist. The friends get up, snarling as they  lunge after her. Lo’ak quickly joins in, landing a punch of his own on one of the male Na’vi who hisses at him. Y/n gets roughly tackled onto the floor but she is quick to recover as she flips Ao’nung over straddling his hips. He struggles under her as she punches him, holding one of his arms back not to land anything on her. 

“Neteyam! Help them!” Kiri yells hysterically, turning to her brother. 

Neteyam stood frozen in his spot, his eyes wide as he watched in pure amazement. All he could focus on was the drastic change he witnessed in Y/n. Someone he thought was too elegant, get violent. Violent to the point she punched Ao’nung and was able to take on the rest with ease. All to protect his family's honor. 

Neteyam’s mouth hung low as shock washes over him, his eyes following how Y/n had now moved onto the other Na’vi. He drank in how she elegantly avoided getting hit but landing her own hits with brutal force. She looked fierce and strong. She reminded him of his mother, beautiful yet deadly. Words that his father had used to describe his mother ringing through his head as he finally understands its full meaning. Y/n was a complete-

“-Badass'' Neteyam whispers. 

He finally understood what it meant, she was the definition of intimidating. Every hit was calculated and precise. That of a skilled fighter. Neteyam was in awe, and if he thought he couldn't grow to love her more, boy was he wrong. 

It is only when Lo’ak screams in pain is he finally brought back to reality.

Neteyam quickly runs back to the group, pushing the Na’vi who tried to choke his brother. As he lands a kick on his stomach he slides right up against Y/n, who is smirking at him. The butterflies in his stomach increase at their close proximity. She looked utterly beautiful with her hair disarray, heavy breaths racking through her body.

It was at this moment Neteyam realized he had met his match, his perfect match.

“Show me what you got, Forest Boy” 

__________________________________________

A/N: I'm sorry for the poorly written action scene. I cannot seem to make them descriptive enough! I'm sorry for that but I hope you guys enjoyed!

[squigglewigglewoo]

Can I request for where Yandere dazai is down bad for reader/fem. That when reader finally allows him to have her, he rips multiple orgasms and keeps her panties for later use..

(✧) warnings: half of these warning depend on his you see the fic, perv behavior, slight noncon, possible drugging, intoxication, alcohol, mentions of stalking, mentions of violence, yandere behavior, manhandling, overstimulation, possible manipulation? Dazai not listening when you say no more, dacryphilia, slight blood play? sadistic dazai bc have you seen that man? he was literally in prison and has 138 counts of aggravated murder, no way he's not a sadistic fuck. mentions of masterbation, mentions of head (male receiving). fem bodied reader, pet names, degradation, praise, sugar coated degradation, Dazais a liar, mentions of chuuya, dazai literally covers his darling in marks, bruises, bites, hickeys, cuts, claw marks, hand prints. readers mentioned to wear a dress, I wrote this with my cunt and it's not proof read. lowercase writing, english is my first language but I suck at it(beware, shitty gramer), bare with me. ik ur reading this bestie, u a little freak but ily<3 NSFW below the cut, MDNI, ageless blogs will be blocked!

(✦) summary: oh, when you finally agree, although with a little bit of help from being under the influence, who is Dazai to say no? 519 words~

(✧) (a/n): I'm sorry I've been silent for so long! got a little too silly and almost got sent to a mental hospital, I'm back though!! exams are coming up so if there's radio silence again, I apologize!! this'll be short, it's 3:46 and my anemia is killing me.

(✦) pairing(s): yandere!Dazai x fem bodied!darling!reader

(✧) listening to~ Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe

the empty sake bottle forgotten on the ground, Dazais hand eagerly undressing you and near tearing your sundress off as he presses you onto the couch, your head thrown back against the armrest, head spinning from both Dazais lips on your neck and the affects of the alcohol. you usually don't get drunk this easily, nor does your head spin like this. what was going on?

"it's alright, pretty girl, I got you, I'll make you feel good." Dazai shushes you whimper and squirm, one hand firm on your hip, the other slides up your back, unclasping your bra and kneading at your breasts. his hands rest at your hips once more, pulling your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket, a little keepsake for later. he kisses you, his grasp tight on you as he bends and folds you, his belt falling to the floor before he rams into you, making you cry out from the sudden wave of both pain and pleasure.

your legs wrap around his waist, his lips swallowing your pained moans as he fucks you at a brutal pain, murmuring something about "god, you're taking me so well.. should've done this ages ago if you felt this good the whole time.." that your fuzzy, intoxicated brain can't understand. done what? what's he talking about? Dazais nails dig into the fat of your thighs, your pussy squeezing around him as he fucks your cervix, making your tummy twist and turn, your body flushing. cumming with a loud cry, you claw at his clothed back, the man having been to impatient undress himself, whining out for him to stop, that it hurts, and he only laughs, fucking you harder, and you feel another orgasm build up.

"c'mon, didn't you want this, why're you asking me to stop now? don't you wanna feel good?" he taunts, his nails drawing blood, his hold so tight it bruises your thighs. his eyes gleam at the sight of your tears and the small pearls of blood, kissing the tears away as they roll down your cheeks. he kisses you, pulling away and licking at your swollen, red lips, and he can't help out Imagine what they'd look like around his cock. he'd kill anyone else who even thought of you like this, he was sure of it, you where his, his belladonna and his alone.

what will chuuya think when he sees you with Dazai, covered in hickeys and bite marks that the brunette most definitely isn't going to let you hide, why would you, anyways? there's no need to hide if he's the only man your seeing, right? Dazai cums inside you as your second orgasm rushed over you just minutes after the first, Dazai slows, pulling out and watching his cum flow out of your abused hole before flipping you over, sliding right back into your cunt and grabbing the fat of your ass, squeezing as he leans over your figure, whispering in a hushed, near scolding tone. "oh, you didn't think we were done, did you? we still have the whole night left, sweetheart. get comfortable, your not getting a break any time soon."

masterlist!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[sorapricots]

Blueberry Pie

Summary: Wade Wilson is finally home, with Mary Puppins and his new friend Logan. And he cannot wait to eat your classic blueberry pie.

Pair: Wade Wilson x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Wade Wilson is a warning, curse words, sex jokes, blood mentioned, tell me if there's more warning I didn't put in this list

A/N: as my promise, a wade wilson fiction is here. I hope I can write down Deadpool’s character well cause let’s be honest unless u have the same lvl of ADHD u will have a hard times to write down Deadpool’s character.

W.C: 1,9k 

It’s been two days. Two days since you realized your lover, Wade, was gone. And in those two days all you do is just sit in the kitchen area, staring at the door, waiting for Wade to come back. TV can be heard in the background with Blind Al commenting on it every once in a while. You are glad that you decided to just agree with your lover when he suggested staying with Blind Al instead of searching for a new apartment. You don’t know if you can stay sane enough if you have to wait for Wade alone.

“Girl, stop sitting in front of the door like a guarding dog, why don’t you join me enjoying this devil’s dandruff.” Blind Al’s voice snapped you out from your daze. You look at her sigh a little bit before you walk to her.

“You really need to tone down inhaling that sinful powder before your whole organs are covered with it y’know” you jokingly said as you sat beside her. Blind Al just gives you a snort. You just let her do her thing while you blankly stare at the TV. 

Oh how you miss your man. Even though he can be annoying with all of his sex jokes, you still love him nonetheless. You frown a little bit, worried start to eat you out again as you watch Blind Al. Without you realizing, you start to pick on your fingers, a bad habit you do when you are nervous or scared. As much as you want to believe that your boyfriend can’t die, you can’t help but worry about him. 

Suddenly you hear commotion on the road in front of your apartment. Your brow furrowed as you looked at Blind Al who looked like she didn’t give any care in the world with the commotion outside. Without saying anything you quickly look from the window near the TV. 

When you open the window, the destruction of a small shop you used to visit greets your eyes. A lot of sparks sprouted from the shop. Your eyes widened while your brain tried to decide if you should go down and look closer or not. A sudden tap on your shoulder makes you yelp.

“What in the hell is going on down there?” Blind Al asks as she tries to “look” at the road. You let out a deep breath before you briefly explain what happened to her. She muttered some words under her breath that you didn’t bother wanting to know. Both of you now stand beside each other, watching the shop. You are so focused on the shop that you didn’t realize there’s a large sparkly circle across the shop.

“What… is that…” you muttered to yourself as you moved your eyes back to the shop. Suddenly you saw two figures. One in a red suit and the other in yellow spandex. For a second you thought you were hallucinating, not until you rubbed your eyes that you are sure that the figure in a red suit is none other than your lover.

“Wade?!” you screamed. The guy in yellow spandex looks up to your direction as you quickly cover your mouth. Blind Al once again tries to look in the same direction you are looking right now which she failed miserably.  Suddenly you see your lover on his knees with his body language screaming in joy while the man in yellow spandex looks at him with pure disgust. 

“What is happening…” At this point you are talking to yourself as you follow the direction of your lover’s body. There’s a dog… in a red suit too, running to him. You tilted your head to the side. A bit confused when the dog jumps to him like it has known him for a long time. Your man and the rugged man talk for a bit before you see another man in a red suit running towards them. You gasp looking at his face, looks the same as the Wade Wilson you know before he became the way he is right now. The three of them then start talking before the Wade without the mask turns his body to the same direction he came from. 

A gasp escapes your lips when you see dozens upon dozens of deadpools variants walking through the sparky circle. Your hand automatically holding Blind Al’s arm as you wait to decide if both of you should duck and hide or not. Blind Al is about to ask something but you softly hush her down as you can feel the tension of danger thick in the air. 

The deadpool with ponytails talks briefly before she pulls out two guns and starts shooting towards your deadpool. You pull Blind Al away from the window a bit as you see the man in yellow spandex run to hide behind the car with the dog in his hand and your lover using the normal face looking Wade as his shield while following the rugged man. You internally slap your forehead as you claim that the deadpool with the mask is indeed your lover.

You then decided to retreat from the window trying to pull Blind Al with you but the woman refused to leave the window. So you just let her be as you walk back to the kitchen. Your heart is beating fast due to the mixed emotions you have right now. You quickly grab a glass of water to calm down your nerves while gunshots and people fighting can still be heard on the outside. 

“Motherfucker, I wish I was deaf.” Blind Al said. You let out a snort as you can tell from the sounds itself how gruesome the fight is. 

“Sure you are,  Al.” you retort back as you decided to just start baking to prepare when your lover finally comes back.  As much as you are worried about him right now,  something in your heart tells Wade will come back home. You start to prepare a bunch of ingredients for your specialty dessert that Wade loves so much. A blueberry pie. 

You start by pulling out the pie crust dough that you keep in the fridge. Letting it soften up a bit as you start mixing fresh blueberries, lemon zests, lemon juice, sugar, flour, and cinnamon powder. After you are done mixing them you check the pie crust before you start to flattened the pie crust dough and put it in the pan. Once it’s done you carefully dump the blueberry you mixed before and put pie crust strips on top of it before you chuck the pan to the oven. While waiting for your pie, you decided to cook food other than dessert since the clock was about to hit lunch time. 

“Hey Blind Al, what do you want to eat?” you ask as you wipe down the kitchen counter from all the mess of the pie ingredient. Althea walks to the kitchen slowly and sits on one of the stools. Her back facing you instead of her face. She let out a spicy wings as her answer. You hummed in agreement as you started to cook the food. 

“Sunshine? Al? I’m back!” You and Al heard the door open as Al started to walk to the door. You immediately run after her and see Wade holding the dog and his new friend. You let out a small scream before you run to Wade. In which he is quick enough to give the dog to his friend before you crash his body with a tight hug. You let out soft sobs as you hide your face on his neck. Didn’t care with the dirt and blood on his suit. You are glad he is safely back home now. 

“About damn time! You holdin’? I’m all out devil’s dandruff  and I’m shaking like an angry vibrator!” Al angrily spoke. You can feel Wade let out a sigh as his hand rubs your back softly with his other hand holding your hips. 

“Thank you, Al. We have company.” you pull back a little as you give Wade’s new friend a welcoming smile which he returns back with an equally polite one. 

“Baby, Althea, this is… this is Logan.” Wade stares at Logan briefly as Logan gives him a quick nod. You chirped a quick hello with a smile. Logan answers with a nod his head to you.

“Nice to meet you, Logan” Althea lifts her hand as an invitation to shake hands with Logan. To which the man returned it back. You cannot stop smiling because you see that not only is he safely home but also has a new friend. 

“And this ancient anal shit not, is Mary Puppins or as I like to call her dogpool. Want to treat yourself to a little stroke?” You let out a giggle when Logan gives back Dogpool to Wade and he slowly holds out Dogpool towards Althea. Althea carefully reaches out and touches Dogpool’s tongue which she immediately pulls her hand away.

“Oh my God, Motherfucker.” you let out a loud laugh as you watch Althea and Wade continue talking while Logan just shook his head in disbelief. Suddenly you hear a beep from the oven. You clapped your hands quickly.

“Oh! It’s ready! Come, come take a seat. I’ll prepare you all something.” You pull Wade’s arm and Althea while Logan follows behind. The three of them sit at the dining table as you put your blueberry pie out of the oven. You quickly whip out 4 plates and a pint of vanilla ice cream. Skillfully cut the pies and scoop the ice cream before taking it back to the dining table.

“No way!” Wade chirped excitedly as he let down Dogpool who then started running to you. Your smile widened when Wade help you to bring the plates to the table and sit down beside you. 

“Logan you have to try my Pookie’s Pie! It’s the best pie in the world. Especially with vanilla ice cream!” Wade talks like a child as Logan stares at the dessert for a second before he carefully eats the pie. You watch Logan intently wanting to know if he likes it which he does let out a content hum while nodding his head. 

“It’s good. Thanks, bub.” Logan said as Wade squeals as he gives you a kiss on the cheek making you laugh before he dives into his pie. The four of you start talking with Wade’s hand holding yours tightly. 

.

.

.

“Thanks for the pie, mi amor. It’s the greatest pie I ever knew.” Wade, already back in his casual outfit, softly said to you as you watched him wash the plates. You smile as you turn off the water faucet and pull him towards you. Caging him between your legs. His hands immediately went to your hips as your hands circled his neck. 

“Anything for you, love.” you whispered as you stared at his eyes. Hands carefully play with the staples that he had on his head for securing his toupee. 

“I was so worried you would not come back, Wade.” your voice quivers as you watch Wade frown a little. He rubs the side of your body before one of his hands cups your cheek. Thumbs carefully wipe your tears as he coo. 

“You know I will always come back to you no matter what, sweet.” you let out a whimper of sadness as both of you close the gap between your face. 

“You promise?” you softly ask him. He nodded before he kissed you softly. 

The kiss is soft and full of love and passion. There’s no lust or aggression behind it. A kiss that makes you sobs even more as you can feel how much love Wade has for you just through his touch on your body. 

You both stay like that with both of your foreheads touched while basking in each other’s warmth. 

[moviecritc]

Hi, so I've recently watched the Thanksgiving movie with Patrick Dempsey and it was sooo good. So I wanted to ask if you could please write something about Charles dating actress!reader who stars in a horror movie but even tho he is not a big fan of horror movies he agrees to watch it for her because he wants to be the best boyfriend so could you please write it with a mix of smau with nell verlaque as face claims 🫶🏻

supportive boyfriend ⋆ charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x actress!reader

word count: 601

warnings: mixed smau and writing

a/n: i, too, am not a huge fan of horror movies (i hate them actually), also this was quite short but i hope you like it <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

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liked by addisonrae, charlesleclerc and 34,120 others

yourusername some pics from the set 😚😚

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user1 the bond they all have >>>>

addisonrae ❤️👻

user2 i love her so so much

user3 omg i watched the movie and it was amazing!!

user4 y/n the new scream queen frr

user5 wait tf is charles leclerc doing in her likes

user6 girl they're dating u didn't know? she went to promote one her movies to the miami gp last year, they met, become really good friends and they started dating. it was like a rom com truly user5 that's so cute

user7 anyone expecting charles reaction for this new movie? we all know how fearful he is

user8 yess he's probably biting his nails trying to come up with ideas to not see it

And he was.

He was more than proud of his girlfriend and loved seeing her on screen. He always watched her latest movies on the plane when she wasn’t around. But this was the first horror movie she’d made, and the idea of watching it terrified him. He had always struggled with that genre; his two brothers loved horror movies and insisted on watching them when they were kids, which led to Charles having countless sleepless nights.

He had tried to convince Max or Arthur to watch it before him and tell him if it was too scary, but neither of them had time. He searched for summaries on YouTube, but it was still too early for people to have summarized it.

The only thing left was to mentally prepare himself. Be very aware that it was all fiction and that nothing would come after him once the movie ended.

He arrived at his girlfriend’s apartment, greeting her with a kiss and a box of her favorite sweets along with a rose.

“Aw, thanks, Charlie,” she hugged him and gave him a longer kiss. “Come on, I’ve got everything ready to watch it.”

Y/N was truly excited, and it showed on her face. She was very proud of this project and eager to show it to her biggest supporter at last. Charles knew this and had done everything possible to stay calm. But then he saw the setup: Y/N had turned down all the lights, leaving only a few candles lit, and the movie was already on the TV. The poster showed her covered in blood with a terrified expression.

“Are you ready?” Y/N said, sitting on the couch. Charles followed suit, and she snuggled up against his chest.

“Of course,” he said immediately. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Y/N looked at him with a little smile and kissed his cheek before pressing play. The first fifteen minutes were fine; they were introducing the plot and the characters. But then the tone of the movie started to darken, and Charles shifted nervously in his seat. Y/N noticed and intertwined her hand with Charles’, placing it on her chest.

Y/N realized how Charles flinched several times during the next few minutes, so she sat up and paused the movie.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked instantly, completely confused though secretly relieved to have a moment to rest.

“Charles, you know I won’t be mad if you’re scared to watch the movie, right?” Y/N spoke with a sweet smile.

Charles pressed his lips together and looked down, just enough for Y/N to widen her smile and kiss him, cupping his cheeks with her hands. “I’m not scared,” he said in the middle of the kiss. Y/N raised her eyebrows, said nothing, and exited the movie. “But don’t turn it off, I want to watch it, I swear!”

“Char…”

“No, let’s watch it, mon amour,” Charles insisted, taking control of the remote.

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[caption: guess who haven't slept a shit bc her bf is scared of his own hair]

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charlesleclerc IT WAS DARK AND I FELT SOMETHING IN MY FACE I WAS SCARED

[rcksmith]

Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

------------

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed.  And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory -  memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game. 

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed. 

 You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter. 

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

���Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair. 

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘��Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

[walnutcookie]

fandom can be awful sometimes so heres a few reminders for my beloved mutuals:

- do whatever you want forever. if its not harming anyone or yourself you are amazing and you should continue doing it if it makes you happy

- ship wars/discourse suck ass. if its not a proship its fine, if someone has a different ship than you or interprets a ship differently you dont have to fight with them.

- your ocs are the best thing on this planet and you should share them

- your oc x canon is so wonderful and lovely and you should share it

- the ocs you created to be family members of other characters are awesome and you should share them

- your headcanons and interpretations of characters are awesome and you should share them

- hit that character with the beam. you know you want to. make them trans, make them gay, make them poc, make them disabled, make them fat, whatever makes you happy

- if someone is mean to you blow them up (hit the block button)

- be nice to others. support their art, their stories, their ocs and headcanons and ships, even if you arent very interested in them. stay curious!! ask about peoples ideas, because most of the time they want to share just as much as you do

- if other people have different interpretations or ideas, you dont have to agree or disagree with them. its okay to appreciate others opinions without telling them that theyre wrong

- if anyones ships/ideas/etc make you too uncomfortable, block them.

- if someone is too annoying to see in the tags, block them.

- if anyone is mean to you, block them. especially hate anons

- write whatever you want always. draw whatever you want always. draw those girls kissing draw that enby covered in blood write about that man going to see the dentist

- draw them as furries, as dragons, as humans, as objects, whatever your heart desires

- your selfship partner loves you always

- people arent always right about characters. sometimes theyre way far from canon, and its not really your place to correct them. if it makes you too uncomfortable block them.

- some people choose to not follow canon. do what you want forever, you are always right about your blorbo. you are not limited to canon or what the fandom depicts the character as

- dont be the one to send anon hate

- its okay to be a hater and a lover. you can hatepost on your blog just as much as you lovepost. just dont main tag it (thats mean) and dont add it onto other peoples posts who like what youre hating on (thats also mean)

- if someone is hating on something you like, its best not to engage with it.

feel free to add anything i missed :] i love u mutuals you should tell me everything about your ocs and ships and headcanons forever. pls

[caesium-55]

—everything is orange. [ ii ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

warning/s: graphic description of blood and gore, body insecurity, lando might be a lil ooc

masterlist.

God bless Jinnie Jo and her overly prepared self because you thought you’d die when you got attacked by the damn shellfish allergy in the car on the way to the hotel. It's fortunate that Jinnie happens to carry around your allergy meds. You dry-swallow the tablets without hesitation, uttering your thanks to Jinnie.

“Song Dan-ssi gave me a list of your allergy meds before we left,” Jinnie tells you. Warmth floods your chest. Manager-nim may be in another country but he never fails to take care of you. You're definitely going to buy something for Manager-nim when you return to Seoul. A jacket perhaps?

The first thing you do the moment you enter your hotel room is kick your boots off, take a warm shower, and reunite with the love of your life—the bed. The mattress swallows you whole and you let out a content sigh as you allow your body to sink in it. Not even ten minutes later, you grab your bag, which you have haphazardly thrown on the bed, take out your phone, and open the X app. You type Lando’s name in the search box.

username1: i am disgusted by the people who still support lando norris like yall really support a man who got a girl pregnant and refusing to take responsibility? i just know mclaren is lying when they said he's not the father

username2: justice for the girl that lando norris got pregnant! he should be kicked out of mclaren!

username3: that girl lucky bc her baby daddy is THE lando norris. she should tell us how he fucks in great detail

You cringe. Your fingers tap the three buttons at the upper right corner and without hesitation, pressing report. You continue to scroll down the tweets, reading them one by one as the clock ticks.

username4: what lie will mclaren tell again to protect little lando norris?

Your phone pings. A notification bar appears on the upper portion of your phone screen. You have received a message. You stop reading the tweet and open your messages app.

unknown number: hey

unknown number: this is lando

unknown number: your boyfriend?

unknown number: the fake one

You immediately save his number in your contacts. You name him Lando Norris.

you: hey there

you: do i just call you lando or

lando: you can call me baby

You snigger at his flirting attempt. Ten points for trying, Lando Norris.

you: okay baby

lando: 😳

lando: okay

lando: we agreed on hard launching each other in socmed right?

you: yah

lando: i kinda don't have a picture of you?

lando: pr told me to ask you if you can send me one

lando: i’ll send you one too

you: i have an idea

you: put me on your story

lando: yeah im planning to do exactly that

lando: have you been listening to what we talked about earlier in the meeting?

you: then delete it after a few mins

lando: wait why

you: make it look like you did it on accident

Your first mistake in your first PR relationship with another idol is that you immediately hard-launched each other on Instagram after Dispatch released his pictures kissing a guy in a bar. People got skeptical and most of them called out your relationship as a PR stunt. They called you a cover up, which you were, but they weren't supposed to know that.

You're not going to make the same mistake twice.

lando: and this will work?

you: let's not shake the confidence i have

lando: 😂

you: people are already expecting mclaren to set a pr stunt so you can gain the public’s hearts back

you: u have to make yourself look like you never needed a pr stunt in the first place, that you’re not trying to win the public back

you: people will catch up if you suddenly post that you have a girlfriend in the middle of your hot issue

you: netizens are quickwitted theyre not as dumb as most of us think

You hope you're explaining it well. You're trying to make your point as clear as possible but it's hard. You forgot the other English words you’ve learned.

lando: okay i get ur point

lando: i’ll do what u want

lando: someone has to tell pr what u planned though

lando: it's not going to be me

Fuck the PR. You're not going to tell them and let them have a field day tomorrow. That's what they get for expecting you to sign that stupid first contract they made.

You open your camera app and take a quick selfie.

No. Your nose looks too big at that angle.

Again.

Now, your forehead looks like an airport.

Again.

Your teeth are showing. The coffee stains are visible.

Again.

Again.

Again.

you: *sent a photo*

lando: i

lando: help me with the caption? my braincells flew off

you: idk not good at captions

you: just say hello loml or smth

This is the story you want to tell:

You met Lando a year after you departed from ORACLE in Australia.

You have a mutual friend—named Tori Allen—who introduced you to one another. Tori Allen does not exist. She's just the fictional side character of your love story.

You started out as friends. Lando is freshly out from a breakup and you’re just trying to live a quiet life after your fall from grace.

You talked for months because of your mutual interest in cars. Eventually, you started going on casual dates.

You asked Lando to keep it secret. He said yes in respect to you. HAN Entertainment already released a press statement regarding your mental health status after the 2021 incident so the public would assume that this was the reason why.

The relationship turned serious three months before Lando’s scandal.

Lando never got the girl pregnant. He never touched that girl. He was loyal to you.

Jinnie almost breaks down the door the next morning. You open it before she can do so. She angrily stomps inside your room and you close the door behind her. Her face is red, her expression taut.

“It's seven,” your eyebrows crease together. You make a quick glance at the phone in your hand. 7:22, the clock in your lockscreen projects. “You told me we are supposed to meet at twelve.”

“McLaren PR called me up,” Jinnie informs you. You’re beginning to get an idea where this conversation is going. “You didn't do what we agreed on.”

“And what did we agree on?” you cross your arms over your chest. You flutter your eyelashes innocently at her.

“That you’re going to choose photos to post on each of your accounts and let PR handle the captions. Norris posted something immediately without PR checking it and deleted it!”

“Did he tell you that it was my idea?”

“No, but I know that it was and it turns out I’m right. You just confirmed it.”

“Did it work?” you question.

“I can't with you!” she throws her hands up in the air, frustrated. “We are supposed to follow orders!”

“No,” you say. “You are supposed to follow orders. That's what Yoon PD-nim told you. He told me to do what I believed was best.”

You open X. Lando’s name is at the top of the trending list. You press his name and read through the tweets that appeared.

username5: LANDO NORRIS WHAT IS THIS BEHAVIOR

username6: EVERYONE HERE ARE THE RECEIPTS *screenshot*

username7: is this what you call the freudian slip lol

username8: I AM NOT CRAZY GUYS LANDO ACCIDENTALLY STORIED HIS GF IN HIS PUBLIC ACC

username9: he deleted it so quick too 😭 im sure the man panicked

username10: HE CHEATED ON HIS GF AND GOT A GIRL PREGNANT??!?

username11: for all we know he didn't even bang that girl 🤷 his girlfriend’s pretty hot he’s definitely not cheating on her

username10: men cheat on their pretty wives and girlfriends all the time

username12: not lando norris that man’s in love LOVE can u see his caption

username13: the caption??? lando’s pretty smooth with his words

username14: he’s taking smooth operator lessons from carlos

username15: im crazy but what if this is just a pr stunt 🤔

username16: girl he won't delete the story in a panic if it's a pr stunt

username17: he was definitely going to post it in his priv and made a mistake 😭

username18: very lando of him

username17: he stronger than me bc if my girlfriend was that pretty, her face will be flooding my instagram

username19: ignore lando, his girl tho 😳

username20: he called her loml omgggg

username21: booo luisa’s prettier

username22: fok off and move on

username23: lando can you fight? meet me at the kfc parking lot and let's fight

username24: probably not but he can run you over with his car

username25: i swear ive seen that girl before i just cant pinpoint where

username26: IT'S [NAME] EX MEMBER OF ORACLE WE HAVENT SEEN HER SINCE 2021

username27: so he bagged a kpop girlie??? lando got game dayummm

username28: isn't [name] an illegal street racer? that's why she got kicked out of the group right?

username29: an f1 racer and a street racer couple 😳 omg what in booktok is this

username30: she's not a streetracer she only watched the street race

username28: she told you that herself?

username30: her company did

username31: THEY CANT BE DATING OMG LANDO YOU CAN DO BETTER SHE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE A WAG

username32: and u think ur better than her?

“It's working,” you state. You turn to Jinnie, raising your phone in the air and waving it. A smug smirk spreads to your lips. “It's working.”

Nobody is doubting the relationship like the time with Minhyung. This is a good start. Now, onto the next part.

“So are we really going to keep having lunch dates until your race?” you poke the shrimp on the plate with your fork. You're having pasta again. In the same place, too. It sucks but you swallow the food and smile as if you’re enjoying the meal.

For today's outfit, Jinnie chose a Valentino Garavani black midi dress paired with Jimmy Choo Antia leather sandals. Lando matched your outfit with a black silk button up and off-white pants. You’re both playing the “looking like a couple” card well.

“I believe so,” Lando says. You mentally count the days of the calendar in your head. The FP1 is scheduled to begin in two days. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask….”

“Hm?”

“The team didn't scold you a lot, did they?”

“They didn’t,” you give him a tight smile. Did he worry? For you? That's very sweet of him. “Why would they? My plan went great.”

Lando nods, “It did. You’re good at this.”

You smile at his compliment, shrugging a shoulder. I’m supposed to be good at this. I have no other choice.

“Let's show them our story,” you say. “Show, not tell. People are more inclined to believe actions rather than words. Show them the story we want them to know and we don't answer their questions early so we can keep the attention and the curiosity on us. Once the timing is right, you answer their questions, one by one. This is risky because if we don't act right, we’re done….”

You set the fork down and finally stop terrorizing the poor shrimp. It's completely obliterated now.

“But I believe we can act right,” honesty bleeds through your words. “You're lovable and you already act like a sweet boyfriend without trying.”

Lando purses his lips and averts his gaze. You see pink dusting his cheeks.

“I try.”

“Nice try,” your words come out dry. You give him a thumbs-up. “Also, I’m full.”

“You only ate half your plate,” Lando points out.

“The portion is too big. I’m a light eater.”

HAN Entertainment is partly to blame for that. You got accustomed to their extreme diets and small meal portions that you cannot even eat more than a small bowl of rice.

“Do you not like the food?” he asks, concerned.

You don’t answer the question. Instead, you lace your fingers together and rest your chin on them, leaning slightly forward.

“I have another plan. Wanna hear it?”

You still don't like having attention to yourself. The feeling of having eyes watching your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake still terrifies you. But attention, the right kind especially, is a weapon. You need a weapon to fight this war. A war to build your career again.

“Keep them on their toes,” the instructor of your PR training class once said. “Give them what they want piece by piece, just enough to keep them wanting more, but never give them everything.”

Until now, you still abide by her teachings. God bless Kim Gaon-ssi and her big brain, wherever she is now. She resigned from HAN entertainment a year ago.

It's been a few days since Lando pulled that stunt in his Instagram story and yet, the attention you're receiving from the fans is not simmering down. You didn't expect anyone to be this involved or curious about a driver's love life but here everyone was.

You wake up at seven and then proceed to spend an hour on your phone while lying in bed to push all the sleepiness away from your system. You leave your bed at nine, change out of your sleeping wear, perform a whole morning ritual inside the bathroom, and by eleven, you send Jinnie a message to get brunch and invite her to eat together inside the privacy of your hotel room. She arrives after fifteen minutes with hotel service food. You eat until twelve thirty and after eating, you begin to get ready.

The free practice session is at 5:30 PM. You can afford a bit more time to get ready so you shower again. It took you nearly two hours. In the meantime, Jinnie prepares your clothes.

You mentally thank the heavens when you see trousers neatly folded on your bed. If Jinnie forces you to wear dresses again, you’re going to lose it. You're conscious of how big your thighs look. You don't even have a thigh gap. Big thighs, small ankles, and muscular calves. They're just a few of your numerous bodily insecurities.

Jinnie pairs the Moon Choi black back pocket trousers with a Dior Toile de Jouy Sauvage silk top. For the shoes, she chooses a pair of white Fila chunky sneakers. She helps you apply your makeup and fix your hair. To finish the look, you grab your black cross body bag, smart watch, sunglasses, and a black ball cap.

Jinnie snatches the ball cap from your hands and replaces it with a McLaren ball cap. A tacky orange with the number four. You raise your brow at her. She gives you a pointed look, a look that says: don’t even try to protest. You sigh, resigned, and pull it onto your head.

She scans your appearance, dragging her coal eyes from the top of your head to your toes. She huffs, satisfied.

“You look perfect.”

Perfect is the goal.

Jinnie drives you to the race venue. She drops you off at the parking lot. She's not happy with it. Jinnie wanted to come. You told her no. You can handle this little act alone. You don’t see an ex-idol with a manager, do you?

The moment you exit the car, you slip on your mask. Figuratively and literally. You tip your ball cap upwards to scan your surroundings, searching for the way in. You carry your phone in your right hand and your paddock pass in the left. Lando gave it to you during dinner yesterday.

A racing event is crowded with people. That's a given. Perhaps not as crowded as a concert but still crowded nonetheless. A stage will not separate you from the people nor a barricade. Unfortunately. You have no bodyguard, no manager, no HAN Entertainment staff.

You're not here as ORACLE’s [Name] but as Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

Your feet lead you to a path where there are less people. You message Lando that you’ve arrived. He replies in a matter of seconds.

lando: ill come and get you

lando: wait for me

You remove your cap, fix your hair, before pulling the cap on. You spot a man with a Nikon DSLR standing a good distance. He is wearing a cord around his neck. The word MEDIA is printed in bold white letters. Your lips curl a little underneath your face mask.

It is show time.

During your trainee years, acting classes are mandatory. You know the basics. You're confident that you're good at acting. If you weren't, the company wouldn't have pushed you to act in two dramas as a side character during your rookie years. You received a reward for your performances, too.

To look lost, you have to keep glancing around you as if you’re contemplating which way to go. You have to look unsure of your actions. Hesitant. You have to constantly look at your phone as if you’re reading directions in it or texting someone to tell you where you should be going. You have to scratch your nape a few times to express nervousness. You're in a place you don’t know, it’s natural to be nervous.

Someone is bound to approach you and help you. When they do, you remove the cap but not the mask and then hope they know who you are. When they don't, well…. that's a problem for future you. You haven't thought that far.

“Hi, excuse me, do you need help?”

You perk up. Orange fills your view. A group of four girls have approached you and they all wear twinning McLaren merch. You can see that three of them sport the number four in their shirts, Lando’s race number. You involuntarily swallow.

There was a case once where a rookie actress got beaten up by her idol boyfriend’s fans promptly after the release of their dating news. Fans can be so jealous to the point of violence. It's a toxic fan culture. That's why so many Kpop idols resort to keeping their relationships private and secret. You hope you won’t get beaten up.

But also, given that they’re McLaren and Lando fans, there is a high possibility that they’ll recognize you. Which is exactly what you wanted. So you push that stupid fear aside and keep the show going.

“Hi, uh,” you remove your cap and lower your face mask until it's bunched up below your nose. “I’m kind of…lost? Do you know the way to the, uh…”

You forget what it's called. McLaren garage? You don't remember the exact word Lando used. You're still not confident that you know the difference between a paddock, a garage, and a livery.

“Wait, I know you!”

You purposely widen your eyes.

“You’re Lando’s girlfriend!”

You smile sheepishly, scratching your cheek with your finger.

The girls break out into loud and high-pitched squeals. Their voices are so shrill that you cannot help but wince. You motion for them to quiet down. Inwardly, you want them to keep being loud. Loud enough to warrant the attention of the photographer, your target.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, we absolutely have to take a selfie!”

You barely understand her rapid spitfire of words until she takes out her phone. Panic instantly swells within you.

This is not the plan. You only wanted one person to take the necessary picture. Not this.

You hastily slap your hand over the lower half of your face. You stagger backwards and stumble against a sturdy wall. Your hands fly out to your sides as you feel yourself lose your balance. Two hands grip your shoulders and you hear a surprised woah! from behind you. You lift your head.

It's not a wall. It's Lando.

His beautiful, beautiful eyes gaze down at you. The colors look lighter under the sun. His thick brows are furrowed together, his forehead creasing.

Lando spins you around so you're face-to-face with his hard chest. You squint at the multiple logos printed on the long-sleeves he’s wearing. Is this what he wears when he races? He swiftly takes the McLaren ball cap off your hand and puts it on your head. His hand remains tenderly flat on your shoulder blade, the other lays on your cheek as if he's trying to cover your face. You tug your face mask up and rub your throat.

“Hi,” Lando greets the girls sweetly. This causes the eruption of another wave of high-pitched squeals. “I’m sorry but do you mind if we keep the cameras away? Our relationship isn't out and as much as possible, we’d like to keep it that way. Can we respect my girl’s privacy please?”

He sounds exactly like a male lead in a romance Kdrama. You know it's fake, that the both of you are playing roles, but his words and the way he delivers them so effortlessly makes you momentarily doubt if he's really acting. It causes a butterfly to flutter in your stomach and your pulse to steadily accelerate. His hands are large and warm and for a moment, it makes you wonder if this is what security feels like. If this is what it feels like to be loved.

Then, you get reminded that it is all an act.

How can actors not fall in love with their co-actors when acting can feel this real at times?

“Thank you,” you hear Lando say. You miss the previous parts of the conversation because of the thoughts that invaded your mind.

“You look so cute together, oh my god. I’m going to die,” the fangirl adds. Lando’s chest vibrates as he chuckles, the sound deep and warm.

“We need to go, sorry. Enjoy the race today.”

He taps his thumb against your shoulder blade and he starts walking, his hands not detaching themselves from your skin. You keep your head low as Lando guides you away. In your peripheral vision, you see the photographer’s camera pointed towards the two of you. A self-satisfied smirk plays on your lips.

“How did I do?” Lando asks the moment he removes his helmet. He is sporting a bright grin, so bright that you're sure it’s going to make the sun envious, as his fingers comb through his damp curly hair. A few stray strands are stuck on his sweaty forehead. You feel the urge to sweep them aside for him.

You search through your mental thesaurus for the synonyms of the word amazing and have chosen: “Impressive.”

Light beads of sweat trickle down his face and neck. A McLaren staff member comes and hands him a towel to wipe them off. Lando thanks her and she leaves. He thrusts the towel towards you. You blink in confusion.

“Will you do the honors?”

“Can't you do it yourself?”

“But you have to play the part of a sweet girlfriend, am I right or am I right?” You roll your eyes at his cheekiness, rising to a stand. You place the McLaren jacket in your hands on your chair. Lando handed it to you before he climbed into the car. You don't know the reason behind his action. Nevertheless, you held the jacket for him.

You take the towel from his hands, your fingers grazing with his. Lando’s smile threatens to split in half as he puts his hands behind his back, parts his legs a little, and then bends down so you won't have a difficult time wiping his sweat for him. You're not that much shorter than him and your height difference is perfectly reasonable and comfortable but you're still grateful that he's doing this for you.

You don't wipe his sweat. Instead, you pat them out. Patting is gentle on skin. The towel will simply absorb the sweat on his skin. Rubbing the skin can lead to skin irritation and inflammation. Lando’s eyes flutter close at your actions and you swear you see him leaning against your hand.

“You raced good today,” you praise him.

You have zero idea on what happened in the past hour. The cars went around in circles. Then, they time their laps. They’re not even racing each other. You thought they would.

In all honesty, you think the entire thing is a bore. The street races you went to when you were a teen were more fun. A minimum of three drivers gets injured every race and it's highly likely someone ends up dead, which is your messed-up definition of the word fun.

You’re more interested in the special guest who decided to grace the track with its great reptile presence. A dinosaur. Kidding, it's just a lizard. It looks like it was surveying the scene and strategizing a great dinosaur invasion.

Lando's chest swells, “Well, I have to impress my girl.”

He opens his eyes and they meet yours. They're twinkling with mirth.

“Color me impressed then.” Despite your words, your tone is unimpressed.

He smiles impossibly wider, now showing his full set of pearly white teeth. He bites his bottom lip. You stop patting his sweat and lower your hand to the side.

“You don't have any more races tonight?” you question. Lando straightens.

“Later at 9 PM.”

“That's quite late.”

“It is?” Lando’s head tilts to the side a little. “Do you sleep early?”

You hardly sleep at all. You have a hard time maintaining regular human sleeping and waking hours. Like the other half of the world population.

“That's not it,” you shake your head. “I kind of just expected that the next practice session would be tomorrow morning.”

“Singapore usually holds night races. Track temperatures are low and the organizers can broadcast the race during peak viewing hours in European time,” Lando explains. “And they hold two practice races a day because it only lasts an hour.”

“That makes sense.”

“Are you hungry?” Lando questions, smoothly redirecting the conversation to food.

“I could eat.” You're not particularly hungry. You're not full either.

“I know a good place that sells these amazing wraps.”

Wraps sound enticing. You can't remember the last time you've eaten one.

“Lead the way.”

You chew on your beef wrap slowly as your eyes focus on the screen of your phone. The voices of the sports announcers live broadcasting the ongoing race fill Lando’s driver room. After buying the wrap, he brought you to his driver room so you can enjoy the privacy as you ate. You appreciate the thoughtfulness. You don't think you can eat outside. So many people can see you.

username33: LOOK AT THESE PHOTOS I AM GOING FERAL

username34: HOLUP LANDO'S GIRL WAS IN THE PADDOCK??? ON THE DAY I DECIDED NOT TO GO?? EVJSNSVSISKS

username35: girlie was hiding 😭 she deliberately went through the back of the paddock so no one can see her going to the garage

username36: my friends and i met her today! she looks like she's lost and as fellow mclaren fans, we went to help her and she was so sweet omg and so so shy too. we tried to take a pic with her but lando arrived and told us to respect his girl’s space

username36: and i quote “do you mind if we keep the cameras away? our relationship isn't out and we’d like to keep it that way. can we respect my girl’s privacy please” WHEN I TELL YOU I MELTED ON THE SPOT

username37: girl he really said that???

username38: i’m her friend and yes he really said that 😭

username39: little lando norris is not so little anymore

username37: pls tell me you backed off immediately

username38: we did!! we kinda feel bad now that we discovered she's been battling anxiety since 2021 and that she doesn't like having photos of her taken

username40: NO BECAUSE THE WAY LANDO IS SO PROTECTIVE OF HER?? THE WAY HE SPUN HER AROUND AND PULLED HER TO HIS CHEST?? THE PROTECTIVE HAND ON HER BACK?? HIM COVERING HER FACE?? WE ALL KNOW [NAME] HASN'T BEEN IN THE PUBLIC EYE SINCE 2021 BC OF MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AFTER HER SCANDAL AND LANDO REALLY TRIED TO PROTECT HER

username41: bae i think you forgot that he's also the reason why [name] is gaining attention again bc he accidentally storied her in his insta

username40: that's why i said tried bestie

username42: i cant believe im crying over this LANDO NORRIS U BETTER TREAT OUR GIRL [NAME] RIGHT

username43: im waiting for @hanentertainmentofficial to say smth

username44: girlie’s career flopped and now she's leeching off lando’s money smh 🙄

username45: bestie she never needed his money she’s already rich from being an idol

username44: correction ex kpop idol, her money’s probably already running out

username45: bestie she's still richer than you while you're 14 (your bio says your 14) and still living with your parents

username46: AND THAT'S VERY SLAY OF HER,, YOU CAN'T EVEN GET A RICH MAN TO LOOK AT YOU

username47: that girl who claimed that lando is her baby daddy is suspiciously quiet rn

You turn your phone off and toss it inside your cross body bag. A sigh flies past your lips as you lean against the back of the couch, setting your unfinished wrap down. Your eyes flutter close. They're beginning to sting. Too much reading.

Sleep latches its claws on you and you allow it to take you.

You stand in darkness, allowing the deafening silence to swallow you whole. Suddenly, a thousand eyes appear. Unblinking. Bloodshot. They're bulging out of their sockets. In unison, the eyeballs move and lock on your figure. Judging. Judging. Judging. Your body trembles at the weight of a thousand gazes. You can’t breathe. You can't speak.

Please stop looking at me.

Please.

I’m begging you.

Stop.

The eyes slowly became bigger and bigger. Then, they disappear. You let out a shaky exhale. You turn around and the world becomes a blinding white.

Cameras. Thousands. No, millions of them. The loud clicking noise fills your ears. Your hands stretch in front of you, trying to cover your face and your body from them. You can only squeeze your eyes shut.

Silence.

The scene changes.

You register the feeling of sand getting stuck in between your toes. Your eyes slowly flutter open. The overcast skyline and the rising tides, the telltale ingredients of a brewing storm over the horizon, can be spectated from the shore. You recognize this place. This was a place you swore you're never going to step foot again.

Jeju.

You hear your mother’s gentle voice whisper your name behind you, causing goosebumps rise on your skin and your entire body to stiffen. It's not the name you own now, but the name you were born with, the name she gave you, the name you lost when you moved to Seoul.

She calls your name again. Again. Again. And again. You ignore every single one.

She stops.

You slowly turn around and you see your mother standing there, a few steps away, barefoot like you and wearing a dress. You remember this dress. She wore it when she was pregnant with you. She keeps the photo in her wallet.

No Eun Ha looks as beautiful as she was in your childhood memories. You greatly resemble her. The eyes most especially. That's why looking at mirrors feels more like a punishment to you more than anything else.

The word “Eomma” rots inside your mouth.

Your Eomma smiles at you. It's empty, her smile. When she smiles, they never reach her eyes. That's the way it has always been. For a second, you consider apologizing.

Eomma, I’m sorry that you have to raise a child you didn’t want. I’m sorry for stealing the light in your eyes.

You don't grow the courage to say it out loud.

No Eun Ha remains smiling. You notice that the edges of her lips curl higher and higher until the smile begins to look unsettling and sinister. Then you see the skin on her cheek tear apart as her smile grows and grows. Blood drips down slowly to her neck and stains the top part of her dress. She opens her mouth into an inhumane size and you see a thousand razor-sharp teeth lining up inside it. Everything is a gory red.

You scream in absolute terror.

She says your name again, her voice this time is not as gentle as you remember.

You wake up screaming and in cold sweat. You fall from your bed and onto the floor on all fours and begin vomiting your guts out. Nothing comes up. Only saliva. You break into pathetic sobs on the floor. Terror is a familiar feeling but you will never ever get used to it.

You don't know how many hours have passed. The floor used to feel cool against your skin but now, it's never been warmer. You still don't possess the strength to leave the floor. Your body feels as if it's being anchored down giant stones.

You're exhausted. You’ve done nothing but you feel exhausted.

You want to run.

You want to run away from this pain and exhaustion.

You need a life where you're no longer exhausted.

Desperately.

A sudden shriek interrupts the silence that wraps the air. A woman's. You don't even flinch. You know it’s just Jinnie. She's the only one who has access to another keycard of your hotel room.

When Lando’s panicking face comes into view, you are shocked. So shocked that you involuntarily raise your arms and accidentally hit him below his jaw. He stumbles backwards, not expecting the blow. He let out a pained groan, hand clutching the area you hit. You quickly rise to your feet, a thousand apologies already on the tip of your tongue. This action, however, triggers a wave of vertigo. Your vision blackens temporarily, your knees giving out at your own weight. Reflexively, you grab hold of the nearest thing beside you, the mattress to soften your fall, before your shaking knees meet the floor.

“[Name]!” Lando’s voice is so loud, you flinch.

When your vision returns, his face is the first thing you see.

“Good morning,” your voice is flat and rough.

Lando hisses and his large hands cradle your cheeks. You're suddenly made aware of how large his hands are. They can cover your entire face with how big they are.

“You're pale,” his voice wobbles. “Shit.”

You want to pass out again. His hands feel so, so comfortable and so, so warm that you want to sleep with this feeling.

“Hey, hey, don't close your eyes. [Name]—” Lando hands move swiftly. One second he’s holding your face. The next second he’s lifting you up in his arms. “Jinnie, call an ambulance!”

The word “ambulance” causes you to wake up. Like really wake up.

Oh, shit.

You struggle in Lando’s arms, “Andwae! No ambulance!”

You pry yourself away from Lando, hopping down to the floor, but the man doesn't retract his hands completely. He still holds onto your forearms to support you as you try to stand.

“No. Just no. I’m fine.”

“[Name]!” Jinnie scolds. She's finally functioning again. She froze in shock when she saw you earlier.

“I’m fine!” you shout. “I’m fine! Really!”

When you get caught that you're weak, you retaliate.

You grit your teeth and clench your jaw.

“I’m. Fine.”

They don’t believe you. You can see it in their eyes. However, they're not going to argue with you. You know they won't.

“I’m going to shower,” you announce. Lando’s grip on your forearm tightens just as you pivot your heels to head to the bathroom.

“I think it's best if you stay today.”

“We all agreed that I’m going to be in the paddock from the practice sessions until the race night.”

“I’ll tell the PR team that you won't go today.”

Your brows furrow.

“Just… Rest for today, okay?”

You turn quiet. Hesitantly, you nod.

“Thanks.”

He turns to Jinnie and tells her, “Take care of her for me. I’ll visit after the qualifying.”

And like that, Lando Norris leaves the hotel room.

[huunni]

[HTTPS.] detective carisi using his cuffs on u!! [.ORG]

warning ! this url contains: unprotected $3X, drunk $3X, b0nd4ge, nd cussin! you've been warned!

at first, it was a passing joke after one (four) too many margaritas at a rooftop get together for the department. just something you thought was something your little group of girls (liv, amanda, kat and alex) and only them heard, something everyone giggled a bit and even agreed with (but liv, she complained that "getting taken control of is overrated").

at first, it was something you were almost 100% sure nobody else had heard, and even if they had, it wouldn't matter! everyone knew you and carisi were dating. and even if they didn't know for sure, the way you two lingered around each other, or the way you knew how the other liked their coffee, something was up, something.

at first, it was just that statement.

"i'd let carisi handcuff me."

and boooooy, did he plan to!

at first, when you hear the metal clinking tighter around your wrist, your blood runs a little cold. usually, you would be putting your cuffs on someone else. someone who did something foul. but now, in the comfort of your own home, your own bedroom, it felt good. it made that split second of freezing blood worth it when your boyfriend pecked your shoulder and your entire body warmed, your thighs rubbing together as you arched your back just a little bit more, enough for you to feel this tip (which was covered in pre) tap your clit ever so slightly.

when he slips inside your slick cunt, he groans just like always before gripping your restricted arms and pulling you flush against him.

"fuuuuuck, doll.. 's the shit.. fuck yeah." his accent is thicker, his voice low and sultry as he whispers into your ear. the room starts to smell like sweat and carisi's cologne as he keeps rutting into your wet pussy, not stopping until you cream around his cock and shake, begging him to let up, to give you a break.

once he unlocks your handcuffs, the brunette massages your wrists and kisses you. knowing that that little passing statement you made will now make a lasting affect in the bedroom 🫶🏾

[sillyhahasilly]

FREAKY CALDRE YURI HCS!!!

this is MY SHIT yall. (i have such a crush on fem andre im sorry sm of these are abt her.) also im going to hell for this. this is the freakiest shit ive written.

they practiced kissing when they were young. an innocent peck on the lips. as they grew they would make out sometimes bc they both wanted to do it. it was "casual" but had lots of feelings behind it. (known for andrea but cal's a little repressed)

the first time they had sex was set off when they were both smoking one night. cal (callie still uses the nickname) was complaining abt how awkward doing anything w the male vers of rachel is (anyone have any name ideas for him?) and how she could never get into it. andrea was like "I could do better." they started making out and it got really hot and cal found herself SO into it. she would of kept going if andrea didnt stop bc they were high and she wanted to make sure cal really wanted it. few hours later when they sobered up (while taking lots of kissing breaks) they had sex. just fingering and touching clits and shit. andrea was right.

andrea is more of a service top, but not a stone cold butch yk. (google it) she loves pleasuring cal and making her feel good so fucking much.

andrea loves eating pussy send tweet. she has made cal come from it multiple times in a row before. she eats cal out and then kisses her and asks if she can taste herself.

andrea likes fucking cal w a toy and sitting over her a soaking up all the little reactions she has to it. also IK that strap is big.

people w vaginas can go longer so these bitches GO AT IT. they fuck almost every sleepover. they fuck where they shouldnt.

(im projecting) a lot of body worship adjacent stuff on both sides. they have very handsy sex, touching all over their bodies and kissing everywhere.

tw sh and bloodplay!! andrea cuts cal and praises her for being such a good girl and taking it. she gets her hands all up in the wounds and prods at them and says "look im finger fucking you." (NOT her joke btw. cal once said its like ur fingerfucking me there and andrea reuses it everytime). and then after that she uses those same fingers covered in blood to finger cal and then eat her out!! with the blood on there!!

seeing andrea w her hair down turns cal on so much. she pulls tight on to her long strands while they fuck. she loves when they fall down onto her face and body when andrea is over her.

andrea has big tits. cal cups them and hold them all the fucking time. that joke abt walking up to ur gf and squeezing the air where their boobs are is smth that cal basically invited. both sexually and non-sexually. ermm tit sucking/nipple play and cal putting her face in them.

cal likes being tied up so andrea can have her way w her. either that or being told that she can't move.

andrea makes it her goal to make cal squirt.

speaking of that, the second time they fucked andrea ate cal out for the first time right after fingering her and playing w her clit to the point of orgasm. cal squirted. lowkey scared them both, esp andrea who got it all over her face. cal was like " i did not know I could do that." same w andrea tbh. (poor female sex ed :/)

them dry humping each other's thighs. yeah.

andrea fucking cal and when cal is abt to come andrea says "m!rachel couldnt make u feel this could, could he?" and makes cal agree w it before she can come.

cal teasing andrea when they kiss by js roughly grabbing her vagina thru her clothes and groping it. andrea loves it.

ok so. once they were planning zd. and there were guns. and cal was like "I want you to point it at my head" (we all know the drill) and before u know it the tip of a gun (unloaded dw) is in her pussy! andre rubbing her clit with it and then putting the tip in her own mouth after. they keep pulling the trigger for the thrill of it and they both act like its loaded cause they are FREAKS.

cal fingering andrea in her lap and andrea biting her shoulder and neck to the point of drawing blood. better yet andrea riding the strap in cals lap.

both would really be into making the other suck the strap esp after someones js been fucked w it. cal likes to order it as a "look how much youll do for me thing" and andrea likes cal to suck it getting cal fucked out and overstimulated thing.

they would both be into period sex. cause the blood. cal likes getting it all over her sm. cal js loves blood and andrea loves getting cal going. (andrea also likes the blood). one of them will be having bad cramps and the other will say "yk what helps w that??' like they didnt have the same exact convo last month.

cal. nipple. piercings. andrea biting and pulling on them.

andrea biting and sucking on cal's inner thighs when she eats her out.

andrea calling cal a whore and a slut. cal calling HERSELF a whore and a slut.

tw sh! they both craved their initials into their bodies once during sex.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

(transfem top x ambiguous gender pov bottom, woundfucking smut, do not read if you are underage. trigger list will be in the first reply.)

the girl you've been talking to online turns out to be local. not too surprising since your city is so major compared to some of the other ones left, but still good news. you had plans to meet up tonight at a bar near her place and are almost ready when she sends you this text:

sorry have 2 cancel bc work running late. i work from home tho so if u want 2 come over i can send the address

you agree and she gives you the address to her apartment. she says the door will be unlocked when you get there so let yourself in. you send her a thumbs up and head over. her apartment building is very poorly designed - the only door into her place is accessible from the third landing of a rusted fire escape. you let yourself in after verifying that you have the right unit number. immediately after opening the door you are struck by the scent of blood and sweat, as well as other smells you can't immediately put names to and the humming of what sounds like a loud fan. she calls out from another room. she says hey. she says shut the door. you do. she says sorry i cant greet you im in the living room and cant move. you say thats ok and head towards her voice. the scent gets worse as you head through the door into her living room.

on top of the dirtiest sofa you've ever seen lies a man you do not know. he appears to be asleep, though with the state he's in it's difficult to tell. he has no legs, and no bandages covering the bloody stumps where they once were. the legs that previously WERE attached are sitting on the ground in a heap, along with his similarly detached arms. his chest cavity is open, and his ribs are unfolded. various tubes lead out of the open cavity. some of them are made of plastic and lead to what appear to be bags of saline, blood, and a strange machine with vents along the top that whirs loudly, the source of the noise you heard before. others are made of flesh, their shape and size similar to how you imagine intestines look, and they connect to several of the man's organs, which are currently stowed on a three-tiered rolling metal cart.

on the middle shelf is a jar of neon blue liquid, inside of which his heart sits, still beating thanks to live electrical wires leading to what appears to be a gutted and repurposed chunky plastic kid's electric piano. his lungs hang off of a hook on the side, inflating and deflating in a shuddering motion that is not at all what you expected breathing to look like. the middle shelf also holds his kidneys, one of which has been disconnected and sits in a pool of blood on the bare shelf. the other is in a jar of what seems to be some sort of clear jelly. the bottom shelf holds a concerning pile of viscera, none of it connected to the man. you pick out his stomach and intestines easily enough, but the offwhite translucent fatty mass that clings to the intestines and the sad grey sac included in the mix are foreign to you. the top shelf holds several organs you don't recognize as well - a yellowish-gray waxy lump in a vaguely phallic shape and a small red orb , both of which are suspended in the same jar of pale yellowish fluid and appear to connect back to the same fleshy duct. they twitch occasionally, but are otherwise motionless. another top shelf organ you identify as the liver. it has no special setup, simply laying flat on the shelf, but is nonetheless connected in several places and seems to be functioning normally, especially as you can see some sort of dirty yellow-brown liquid dripping out of it through a plastic tube and into a large, clear bottle that you're pretty sure was a mayo bottle at some point in its past. finally, two large cooking pots are gently simmering over a large camping stove, connected to the rest of the mess of tubes, ducts, veins, and flesh. one of the pots has a lid on, leaving you unable to see what's inside of it. the other is about half-full of an off-white, slightly meaty substance.

in the center of the mess sits the girl you're here to see. you've exchanged both lewd and non-lewd images before, so you recognize her well enough, though you haven't seen her in these clothes before. if you can call them that. she's wearing simple black panties, a pair of light grey ankle-height socks, a deeply stained apron with a heart and a KISS THE COOK on it (though somebody has taken a maroon fabric marker, crossed out COOK, and written SURGEON below it), a pair of yellow rubber dishwashing gloves, and nothing else. her legs have a thin covering of hair, as if she shaved four or five days ago and it's starting to grow back but she hasn't had the energy to shave it again. her wavy blond hair is unkempt, and she makes no effort to tie it back. this is somewhat concerning, as she currently sits hunched over the dismembered man on the couch, her hands inside of his open body cavity. her hair hangs around her face, the ends of it matted and dirty with blood and other fluids.

the man you thought was either sleeping or dead opens his eyes and turns to look at you, silent, a look of blank curiosity on his face.

she stands and turns to you. she looks like she hasn't slept in five weeks. there are track marks on her left arm. she extends a blood-soaked glove for you to shake. you take it, dazed. she says hey, nice to finally meet you in person. im riley. doctor riley grace davis MDE. you say nice to meet you too. she says sorry that theres not space on the sofa here. when she draws her hand back to gesture you wipe the blood off on your pants as best you can. she says do you want to sit at the kitchen table or go straight to the bedroom? you say um. you say sorry if this is rude but who is that? she says one of my clients. you say clients? she says yeah. you both look at each other for a moment. you say uh, sorry, what is it you do exactly? she says did it never come up? you say no. she says oh. she says sorry im used to people having heard of me, guess i forgot to mention. you say its fine. she says im a plastic surgeon.

you glance at the man with his organs spread out across the cart. you say that looks like a little bit more than plastic surgery. she says im very talented. you say isn't plastic surgery minimally invasive? im very talented, she repeats. come on into the kitchen, she says, turning to lead the way. you say uh, is it okay to leave him like that? she says yeah. you say isnt he going to bleed out? she says trust me, i'm a doctor. as she heads through the door she reaches one gloved hand to tap a frame on the wall. a smudge of blood is left behind on the glass. you look at the frame.

The assembled medical staff, Thinker-class parahumans, and administrative staff of the Parahuman Response Team East-Northeast, in cooperation with the governance of New Brockton on Earth Gimel, confer on RILEY GRACE DAVIS-LAVERE the degree of MEDICAL DOCTORATE EQUIVALENCY for recognition of medical knowledge and talent conferred by a parahuman ability, evaluated and classified as Tinker 8, as well as for the demonstration of excellence in prior practice of medicine and the use of that parahuman ability to complete an assessment of medical knowledge and talent agreed upon by PRT staff.

you follow her into the kitchen. in the time it took you to read her doctorate, she has apparently doffed both the apron and the gloves, which now sit on a pile in the floor. she holds out a bottle to you as you join her at the table. it's a green glass bottle with no label. what is this, you ask. beer she says. she says i made it myself. you take a terrified sip. it tastes amazing.

you are acutely aware of the fact that she is now topless. my eyes are up here she says. you say sorry, but she's grinning lecherously. she says you like'em that much? you say honestly i was stuck on how different you look from your pictures. she says wow, rude. you say i didn't mean it like that. she says how did you mean it? you take a second to collect your thoughts. you say your boobs are at least 50% larger in person. she says puberty is a magical thing. you say puberty? she says yup. you say how old are you? she says don't you know how to talk to a lady? you say absolutely nothing about this visit has led me to believe you're a lady. she laughs. you have no idea how to label the sound of her laugh in your mind. it would almost be a cackle if it didn't degenerate into a giggle. she says you wanna know how old i am? you say yes. she says me too, kid. you say what year were you born? she says 1998. you say okay, so- she raises a finger to stop you from talking. she drains her beer, then slams it down and starts talking very fast.

born in 1998, triggered and stopped aging mentally in 2005, went on puberty blockers in 2010, started aging mentally again in 2011, went off puberty blockers in 2012, undid my puberty and went back ON puberty blockers in 2013, then all of my self-modifications were undone also in 2013, and i dont know what else in my body changed at the same time, went off puberty blockers again in 2014, or 1 GM if you use that calendar, i dont because thats stupid but just in case, aged fairly normally until 2023, then undid my puberty again because i was scared, aged normally until 2029, and from then on my Amy and i have theseus shipped me about twenty times over because staying the same is boring. so yeah. the paperwork says i'm 38, let's go with that.

you dont know how to respond to that. to any of that. she gets up and says sorry, ill be back in a second. she leaves the room. you take another sip of the beer. you don't like beer. how the fuck does this taste so good? you glance around the kitchen a bit, not getting up. it's clean in the sort of way that indicates it doesn't see much use. the only thing that has clearly been used frequently is the microwave, which you can tell from here has probably never been cleaned since she bought it. at least the lack of mess means there's probably no mouse, rat, or ant problem. in here, at least. you vaguely wonder if the bloody, dying man in the other room would attract vermin.

she returns, shrugging on a filthy grey hooded sweatshirt and carrying a small case. she says sorry, room gets cold as balls sometimes. dont usually notice it while im working. she grabs another beer out of the fridge, then sits down and pulls a rolled cigarette out of the case. she pulls an old zippo out of the sweatshirt's front pocket, lights it, and starts puffing. it doesn't smell like nicotine or marijuana. want one, she asks. you say what are they. she says salvia mostly. she says bit of kratom to mellow it, but mostly salvia. are those safe to use together you ask. especially while drinking. she pauses. she says fuck, iunno. id hardly notice at this point if i started to OD. pretty sure im good enough to fix it if i do. fix it you ask. she says yeah. how you ask. she says im a doctor. damn good one too, she says. you say arent you a plastic surgeon. she says im a lot of things.

she says sure you don't want it? you seem tense. you say uh, ive never really been high before, don't want to start with untested interactions, no offense. she says none taken. she says youre drinking, though, that counts. you say im drinking but ive never really been drunk. she says wanna fix that? you say im good. she says good. she says being drunk sucks. she says worst depressant there is, just use tranquilizers if you want to start acting like an idiot and forget it all the next day. you say i didn't know you were so into this, um, scene, i guess? she squints at you. she says are you a cop? you say no. she says cause you're being awkward and simultaneously pretending you know and don't know what you're talking about and that's what a cop does. you say i'm not a cop. she says none of this is illegal. she says all this shit falls under the realm of reasonable materials for her research. you say i SWEAR im not a cop. she says and jeff in the living room there signed the consent forms and waivers before i started doing that shit to him. you say if i were a cop i would be given better training on handling this situation than just repeatedly saying im not a cop.

she says if youre not a cop why are you so fucking tense? she says calm the fuck down. you say um. she says you were so casual over text, thought we had good chemistry. you say we did. she says so whats got you like this? is it cause ive got a client? you start to answer her but she keeps talking. she says sorry about that, really. she says it was supposed to be a simple body swap job, organs out, couple changes, organs in, but dude keeps asking for more and more weird shit until somehow the plan has changed to him floating inside of a translucent biological skin suspended in a mix of lympatic fluid and vitreous jelly. you say what?? she says and i got no problem with that, but it means im gonna need a fuckton more meat than i thought i did when i started, and its gotta match him or his antibodies are gonna fuck him UP, so now im working his stem cells and bone marrow overtime to cook me up all the shit i need, meanwhile hes on life support and all this equipment is so esoteric i gotta babysit it the whole time, so i can't get away like we planned. again sorry about that she says.

you say its fine, i just didnt know what your job was. you say caught me off guard coming in and seeing a guy opened up like that. for a second started wondering if i was next. you laugh awkwardly. she does not laugh. she smokes a little more without saying anything. the silence goes on an uncomfortably long time.

she says do you want to be?

you say what? she says dates get discounts on ops, especially if its something hot or something simple. im really fucking talented too she says. she says you saw the state jeffs in and hes still alive and well. so cmon, anything you want? you say um. she says cmon, dont get shy now, tell me! you weren't scared to talk about kinks online. you say well there is one thing, not a body mod exactly but something that wouldn't be possible to do under normal circumstances. she says out with it, grinning wolfishly. you say im, uh, kind of into woundfucking.

she takes another gulp of her beer. she says god, who the fuck isn't? she says i'll never understand why that isnt a more common thing. seeing somebody as so much of an object that youd put a new hole into them just for your own fun. or alternatively, loving someone so much that you need to feel what it's like inside every part of them, need to connect with their muscle and blood just as much as you do the rest of them. fuck, it's delicious, she says, her grin stretching unnaturally wide, like a Glasgow smile that opened to reveal more teeth and gums. you have never felt more afraid. you have never felt more turned on.

you top or bottom, she asks. bottom you answer. good, she says, cause i've been wondering what you would look like screaming this whole time. your eyes widen. she downs the rest of her beer and stands up, grabbing your arm and yanking you up as she does so. she says cmon. you follow her, if only because when she pulls at you you briefly feel she may have the strength to tear your arm from its socket.

you pass through the living room. she shouts out yo, jeff. the unseamed man opens his eyes and looks at you. you cant read his expression. she says im gonna be busy in the next room for a couple hours. if you start dying, she says, slam your head into this. she grabs what looks like a game show buzzer off of a bookshelf covered in junk and sets it on the couch next to his head. she says should be loud enough for me to hear from the bedroom and come get you stabilized. blink twice if you got that. he blinks twice. she says cool, later. she pulls you through another nearby door and slams it closed behind her.

her bedroom is a confusing mix of the junk and grime you saw in the other room with a shockingly pristine bed. her clothes are strewn about the floor and the walk-in closet, with no organizational system you can discern, not even between clean and dirty. in fact, you wouldn't have called any of these clothes clean. she opens the cabinet under the bedside table, pulls out a huge roll of plastic sheeting, and covers the bed. ah. that explains it.

is this a dexter reference, or... you say, trailing off. she laughs again. what the fuck is that laugh? she says my amy got frustrated having to clean the sheets literally all the time so now i just do this instead. you say er, whos amy. she looks at you like youve lost your mind, a hypothesis you cannot disprove as you think on the situation. my wife, she says. wife you ask? she says fuck, did i not mention this either? shit, fuck, goddamnit. she says ive been married for three years. you say uhhhhhhhh. she says oh dont worry she knows! shes cool the relationships open. uh, unless YOURE not comfortable with me being poly, i guess. fuck i couldve sworn i mentioned this, she says. its not a problem you say. she says you wanna keep going? you say yeah. she says good.

she heads into the walk-in closet, grabbing a three-tiered cart from under a shelf and starting to wheel it to the bed. allergies, she asks? oxybenzone, you say. she says well im not planning to inject any fucking sunscreen into you, so i dont think thats relevant. you say look i dont know how any of this works, better safe than sorry. she says dont worry, you're always safe with me. AND im going to make you sorry, she says. she giggles before she stomps on a toggle on the cart that locks the wheels. you get a look at this cart and see that it has a collection of medical and not-so-medical implements, with the middle shelf appearing to contain various bottles, jars, and tubs of what you hope are medicines while the top shelf holds needles, sutures, scalpels, saws, scissors, and almost any kind of tool you can think of that holds a blade, from bread knives to x-actos. the bottom shelf has a large circular saw and a rusted chainsaw.

traffic light system for safety checks, she asks? you say yeah. cool she says. she pushes you onto the bed, the plastic crinkling as your head hits the pillow and you fall on your back. she sits on top of you, straddling your lap, holding your hands over your head by the wrist with one hand. she's freakishly strong, far moreso than her spindly limbs should allow. she takes the cigarette out of her mouth. you swallow. your eyes flick to it. you say sorry, can you, um... she grabs your neck, interrupting your speech and yanking your head forward. she leans down, spits on your cheek, and shoves the lit end of the cigarette against the same spot. the saliva buffers it slightly, but the burning feeling is still intense, a pain that rides through several seconds as she presses the cigarette into flesh. you hear yourself whining at the pain.

she flicks the now-extinguished cigarette aside and kisses you. it tastes like blood and morning breath and ash. she picks up one of the scalpels. in stark contrast to the rest of her home, each and every one of the tools is in sparkling pristine condition. she toys with the scalpel as she looks you up and down. you have any experience with being cut into, she asks? you say huh?, taking some time to process. oh, you say. um not really you say. never done cutting during play before and my only surgeries have been dental when i was a lot younger. she says no problem. she says im only gonna dull your pain a little, but let me know if i need to adjust sensation up or down. you nod breathlessly. she angles the scalpel and cuts through the front of your shirt, a swift motion that leaves the tip of the blade an inch or two from your neck. you recoil on instinct and she giggles again, pulling the knife back and moving the fabric of your shirt aside. she takes one of the smaller jars from the cart and dips two fingers in it, the scalpel dancing in her fingers as she does so, like a bored baton twirler doing pen tricks. the paste is bright pink, and she rubs it into the flesh of your upper stomach. you feel your nerves start to tingle slightly as she finishes.

she fills a syringe with something pastel red. placing her hand against the numbed area of your stomach, she spread her fingers, guiding the needle between two of them to hold it steady. you watch the point of the needle break skin, feel it sinking through your flesh. she depresses the plunger slowly. you exhale as she removes the needle. gooood toy, she says softly. your breath hitches at the praise and she smirks. she presses the scalpel to your skin, but doesn't start to cut. color, she asks? you say green. she smiles. she says making the incision.

the feeling of blade breaking skin isn't the sort of jarring penetration you thought it would be. the transition between the scratching pain of the scalpel against your skin to the actual slicing sensation is gradual, and you're not certain you could have pinpointed the moment if you weren't watching. you find yourself gritting your teeth, your jaw clenching involuntarily as your body tries not to vocalize the pain. it isn't intense, but it's persistent and deliberate in a way that doesn't match what you think pain should feel like.

riley is more energetic than youve seen her this whole time. she starts to hum happily to herself, cutting through your skin and flesh. the incision is vertical, two inches long and ending about an inch and a half above your belly button. she retrieves a pair of those metal clamps surgeons use to hold the incision open during surgery. you don't know what those are called. maybe you should ask her. you think that would kill the mood. you'll ask her after. she inserts them into the incision, adjusting the tension so that they spread it open about an inch. she notices you looking. she says you don't need to watch if it makes you squeamish, pet. you swallow hard. you say i want to watch. she giggles.

you lose track of time, watching her work. she wields the tools with a grace, precision, and speed you didn't think was possible. the blood wells out as she does so, flecks of it flying when she moves too frenetically, adding to the stains on her hoodie. it covers the ends of her fingers, drops trailing down to paint their streaks further down her hands and arms, like candle wax melting. your blood. her hands. you feel slightly faint, and you don't know if it's from arousal or bloodloss. the pain is constant, but still sharp enough not to ache. you breath shallowly, occasionally whimpering or letting your breath hitch as the scalpel catches flesh. for the most part, neither of you speak, though from time to time she gives soft praise, her voice warm and comforting as she assures you of how sweet and well-behaved you're being.

she isn't just making a hole. you don't know exactly what she's doing, but it's not just cutting. the needle and thread flash in her hands from time to time, and you can feel the muscle and fat in your torso being stretched and pulled, split and joined in new ways. your angle of view prevents you from seeing the operating area, to your dismay, and at times you almost speak up and ask if you could reposition so you could watch better - but you know you can't. it's not your place to ask anything of her. she's the one in charge.

still, you wish you could see. she described herself as a plastic surgeon earlier, but her movements don't match that description. it is not the slow, precise, micro-motion of a surgeon; her body language is free and expressive, passionate in a way that reveals her true nature. she is an artist, her chosen medium skin and meat, the tools of her craft surgical by their raw nature but not in the way she wields them. the blood-covered flesh, the sinew and fat held beneath your skin and even the skin itself are only the raw material with which she crafts her magnum opus. a sculptor of a living body, like a leatherworker or carver of bone taken to the logical conclusion.

she pulls off her sweatshirt, a sheen of perspiration covering her skin. your eyes are glued to her bare form. she notices you staring and flashes a predatory grin. aw, someone likes watching, huh? she says. you nod dumbly, and she chuckles. stupid little pile of meat, she says, affection in her voice. you think you might be in love. you cannot tear your eyes from her, though she evidently does not mind the attention as she returns to her work.

your gaze is not lustful, though doubtlessly lust is the predominant feeling in you. your focus is drawn to her through fascination and adoration, not arousal. you study her curves, the hair of her stomach, the dullling red stretch marks that frame her chest and gut and streak across her thighs, because this is the body of the woman who is recreating you. is this not the same as knowing the form of the god who shaped you in his image?

no, it is something different from that. this is not the god who made adam in his image but the god who knew man would need a companion, and shaped one from a rib torn from the body of his creation. a divinity that does not create from whole cloth but rends meat and bone until its craft is complete. a godly vulture, a being that tears its hooks into the carcass of the universe and pulls free a dried, gristly tendon, granting importance to that which exists but lied bound beneath the surface of the skin, out of sight, out of mind, waiting to ooze its way free from this veil of vellum. the perfected form of imperfection. the blood is drying in her filthy, matted hair. she takes a pill bottle from the cart, pours out a handful, and swallows them without water before returning to the frenzied stitching of your adipose tissues.

what must be hours later, she sits up and wipes the sweat from her brow, smearing your blood across it at the same time. she wipes more of the blood onto her thighs, apparently to clean her hands, though they are still caked with grime and gore. think its done, she says. she says anesthetic should be wearing off too. she sets the scalpel down and leans over you. she's right; you feel the sensation returning to the area she's operated on in full force. she lays on her side next to you, head propped up on her hand, her other arm draped across your body, cheshire smile on her face. you feel her fingertips lazily trace the edges of the gash before she slides one in.

how do you describe the sensation? what does it really feel like for something to work its way between the folds of your muscle, for subcutaneous fat and flesh to be pressed aside, molded, to make way for the penetrating presence of another? the pain is omnipresent, but not overwhelming as you expected it would be. the flesh holds sensation deeper than you thought it would as well - several inches beneath your skin, you can feel her fingers hook inside of you. you can't tell how much of the pleasure is physical and how much is psychological, but it is there, and it is overwhelming. you tense in response to it, moaning, and the tension causes your muscles to clench, sliding against her fingers, bringing sensation to new parts of your abdomen. the feedback loop overwhelms you, and you feel a disappointed whine escape you as her finger leaves the hole.

she giggles. so needy, she says. she says guess i did make you pretty sensitive, huh? you whimper in response. she says don't worry, i won't leave you empty too long. she moves, sitting on your lap, pulling the panties off as she does so. her dick flops out over your stomach. it is roughly human in shape, and on the larger end of normal human size, but its appearance throws you for a loop. it is stitched together, frankensteinian in construction, without even a consistent skin color. she notices you looking. you like it she asks? she says sort of had to bodge it together pretty quick, don't put nearly as much effort into my own body as i do others. she says amy could do better. you are far too horny to consider the implications of any of that. you whine, straining upwards to press the wound towards the tip of her cock. she laughs. good toy, she says.

she sighs deeply as she forces herself inside of you. ffffffffffuck, that's good, she says. your core muscles shift around her, flexing to squeeze her cock as she sinks it in, hilting inside of the hole. you moan, your hands coming up reflexively to cover your face in some act of shame or modesty which is at this point thoroughly meaningless. she pulls back out slowly, her cock glistening with your blood, before slamming back into you, new parts of your abdomen being forced aside to accommodate her. you think she is pressing against organs now. you desperately want her deeper.

she pulls your hands away from your face with one hand, and with the other shoves the finger that she had previously used to explore the laceration into your mouth. you suckle at it thoughtlessly as she rolls her hips, the tip of her dick forcing itself into your abdominal cavity. the taste of blood and sweat and dirt linger on your tongue. she starts thrusting hard, the repeated slamming of her cockhead against the parts of you that were never meant to be touched the only thing you can think about. it hurts. oh god, it hurts, and it feels so much better than anything you've ever felt. damn that's a good hole, she says. you don't say anything. she takes the finger out of your mouth. color, she asks? it takes you a second to connect the thought. green, you say. she says thank god. can i come in you she asks. you nod stupidly, your mouth still open from her finger being pulled out. she giggles.

she grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and presses her lips against you. she tastes like morning breath and your blood. it's delicious. you wrap your arms around her as she forces herself in and out of the gaping, bleeding wound in your stomach. she's so close to you, her whole body pressed against you as that massive, unnatural cock digs into your blood and muscle and guts. she doesn't smell like she knows what a shower is. she is practically laying on top of you. you can't think. your wrap your legs around her too.

she groans in your ear as she slams herself balls deep into the gash again. your insides are flooded with her cum. your own orgasm forces your core muscles to clench, tightening and sliding around her length, unintentionally milking her cock into you. she pulls out, laying the dick slick with blood, sweat, and cum across your stomach, as she pants. she rolls off of you, laying in bed beside you. unthinking, you turn onto your side and press your body against her. she wraps her arms around you and kisses you again.

you hear the sound of thrashing from the other room, followed by a cartoon buzzer sound effect, and then what sounds like the seinfeld jingle starts to play. she jumps to her feet. god fucking damnit, jeff, she says. she says i'll be right back as she crosses the room at a run, slamming the door behind her. the wound in your stomach is still bleeding. you have no idea how to process anything that just happened.

[lauriegraham01]

i'll never smile again

pairings: 40s!bucky barnes x reader, nurse!reader

summary: with you and bucky away to fight in the war, you both can't wait to come back home and begin the rest of your lives together. what's left of your plans when a mission goes sideway? could you and bucky have been born so unlucky?

w/c: 1,423

c/w: takes place in CATFA, ANGST, major character death, themes of grief

a/n: this has taken me the longest to edit, not sure if im completely satisfied with the ending but it's enough. hope u enjoy, lmk if you like :)

Time of death: 14:37

You hang your head low in defeat, the death of another soldier baring on your soul. There truly was only so much that you could do. He had come in completely mutilated from barbed wire and eyes blinded form tear gas. With limited options, you and your team of fellow nurses ensured that he could be comfortable for his passing. One of the other nurses raises the white sheet to cover his face, and you gather yourself to move on to the next patient.

You had joined the army nurse corps a little over a year ago. There was news that we were loosing soldiers faster than we could kill enemies and you decided to join the war effort, believing you could do some good for your country. Nothing prepared you for the horrors you faced daily, the chaos and death that surrounded your every breath.

However you weren't alone in your pain. Your two best friends, Steve and Bucky had too joined the war. They along with the rest of the Howling Commandos were going on missions targeting Hydra bases. There was only so much they could tell you, but the little they did still left you uneasy. It just seemed so dangerous and you worried about the both of them- especially Bucky.

Bucky and you had only been dating for two years when news of the U.S. joining the war broke out. Yet after a lifetime of friendship you felt like he knew you better than anyone else in this world. You two had agreed that when the war was over, you would finally get married. These days it was your future plans with Bucky that gave you the strength to survive the war. That, along with the letters that he sent. Writing in detail about what missions he and Steve were on and how things were looking on his side of the war.

The rest of the day had passed by in a haze. By the time you returned to the nurses quarter on base, you feel the full weight of the day in the way that your back aches. Upon looking in the mirror you wince at the amount of blood that's caked into your face and hands. A shower lifts your spirits as you feel the stress from the day drain along with the water. Stepping back into the sleeping barracks, you squeeze past the crowd of nurses until you reached your cot. As you tuck your uniform away you see a letter placed on the pillow. Lifting it up with curiosity, you flip the envelope and a smile tugs at your lips.

Bucky.

You tear open the letter eagerly, it had only been a week since you had last heard from him but it felt like eternity waiting between letters. Unfolding the pages within your hand you read each line carefully, hearing his voice with each word, imagining as though he were reading it to you. As he told you about his latest mission, fear threatened to creep its way into your heart. Yet as you got to the last page, you inhaled a sharp breath- the world around you seeming to go quiet in that moment.

“Doll, I’ve done enough thinking, and I know what I want. I’ve loved you for a lifetime. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I know that there's no one else for me but you, y/n. I wish I could ask this in person but I cannot go another day without you knowing how much you mean to me. When the war is over we’ll get married and I’ll grow flowers like you, and your womb will carry the most beautiful girl in the universe. Make me the happiest man alive - will you marry me?”

You fell backwards onto your bed and closed your eyes, Bucky's words burned into your mind. Tears began to well up at your eyes as your heart soared at Bucky's proposal. Bucky wanted to build a life with you. You began to imagine your wedding day. The familiar faces that would gather to celebrate your love, what it would be like to become the mother to his children, and to be able to grow old with him. As you thought about this, you couldn't contain your excitement anymore. Hastily rising from bed, you make your way to the center of the room before grabbing the attention of your fellow nurses.

"I'm getting married!" You shouted, all the nurses turned to look at you before ensuing in cheerful screams. They all congratulated you and gave you and Bucky well wishes for the future.

As you and the nurses were still caught in the excitement of the news, you were suddenly interrupted when a knock rang on the barracks front door.

As everyone scurried to stand in formation, you felt relieved when you saw that it was Steve and Peggy who had walked through the door.

"Officer y/n, would you please come with us for just a moment?" Peggy speaks up.

Stepping out of formation, you grab your coat as you follow behind the two, stepping out in the cold winter air.

"Steve!"

"Angel." He coos as he brings you in for a hug. It had been about 8 months since you'd last seen him. While you were happy to see him, you were slightly taken aback to see him here.

"What on earth are you two doing here?" You breath out as you go to pull away from his embrace. When Steve's grip on you suddenly tightens, you're slightly confused. Looking up at Peggy and seeing the solemn look on her face you know that something was wrong.

“Steve?”

"I'll give you two a minute." Peggy excuses herself, making her way toward the field to give us some privacy.

“Steve, hey, hey, what's going on?" As he finally lets you go you look up into his eyes to see that they were glossy with tears threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” you hook a finger underneath his chin fixing his gaze from the ground onto you, "talk to me. I'm here, what's wrong?"

“It’s Bucky, he’s… he’s gone.”

A dreadful weight settles deep in the pit of your stomach as Steve looks at you in a way he's never before. So full of regret and heartache. You search his face for any type of deceit, any indication that what he said had been a terrible lie and that Bucky was alright- but to your avail you could find none.

Steve went on about the mission leading up to Bucky's final moments but it fell on deaf ears as your mind was anything but tethered to this reality.

"No, no." You mumble underneath your breath as you stumble backwards a bit.

"Woah-hey," Steve grabs a hold onto you, steadying your grounding. "I'm so sorry y/n."

“He can’t be gone," your voice comes out strained in a high pitch, "he just can’t be.” Your vision blurred as the crushing weight of reality settled within your head and within your heart.

Bucky was gone- for real this time. There was no rescuing him, there was no saving him.

You felt Steve wrap his arms around you as you buried your head into his chest. That seemed to be the tipping edge as before you knew it a sob began to wrack out of your lips. You cried for all the plans you've made. For the memories and time now stolen from you.

"We were supposed to get married." You manage to choke out between ragged breaths.

"I know, angel," he said softly. "I know."

When you returned to the barracks, it was lights out and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up from this terrible nightmare. You found it cruel how the last time you were within these walls you were an engaged woman, and now you return a widow. Memories of Bucky plagued your every thought as your own grief made you restless, sleep evading you.

Bucky and you had shared a lifetime of memories. Growing into the versions of yourselves that both of you had come to love. Now they'll forever be a hole left where the rest of the story should have been written. When you return home, you'll return a widow. You'll never be able to hold him, to touch him, to marry him, have a family with him-

"I'll never love again", you thought to yourself. "There's no getting over you."