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notquitecanon · 1 month ago

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Familiarity & Whiskey // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny get in a fight, which is how Simon crosses your path. Thinking your an easy mark for quick comfort and a quick fuck, he's not aware you're in the UK to meet your estranged father. Your circles running tighter with his than he thinks...

(Unedited)

Poor Simon can't catch a fucking break. Let this man nut and smoke a cigarette.

CW: feminine descriptions and pronouns used, alcohol consumption, making out, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving), Simon's lowkey highkey manipulative, absent father!John Price, don't think too hard about age gaps i gave up

Request by: @i-live-in-spite

NSFW 18+ MDNI

"Go to hell, Riley. ‘S where ye fuckin’ belong."

That had been Johnny’s direct words.

Which was the first and only time Johnny had addressed by just his last name. Usually it was some irritating nickname, his callsign, or his rank delivered with the Scotsman’s usual bright eyes and mirth that somehow made it less annoying to Simon. And when it was his real name, in serious times, it was his first name, with a sincere look and genuine inflection. Never just ‘Riley’.

But Johnny had spit his last name like it was a curse. Something that tasted bitter in his mouth, something poisonous.

Hell, maybe it fucking was. And it had him craving something volatile- destructive. Alcohol, sex, a pack of cigarettes… and if he couldn’t get one of those to self-medicate this poisonous streak, he’d settle for bloodying his fists before the end of the night.

A shit mission with a shit conclusion. A shit day. Fuck, a shit year. Culminating in a clash between Lieutenant and Sergeant, Simon’s icy seething clashing Johnny’s explosive rage about a bad call made worse by Simon’s version of coping- cold indifference and colder jokes. Actions had consequences, isn’t that what Simon always told his sergeant? Maybe that’s why Simon was stewing in the shitty pub close to base crawling with recruits after Gaz and Price had forcibly split up the confrontation right as it was about to get physical.

Price had all but shoved him off base while Gaz took Soap somewhere to cool off- probably the gym or some equally shitty pub on opposite ends of the city. So there he was, sulking in a corner, nursing the only bourbon this bar offered, stewing over whether or not he needed to apologize.

The thought of apologizing burned worse than the bottom shelf bourbon he was sipping. He was Ghost. The Ghost. He didn’t apologize.��This was one of those times he would’ve actually appreciated Price’s usually unwarranted ’sage’ advice- but he was tied up, still on base and pissed off because he was trying to wrap up mission reports and now was cleaning up Simon’s mess.

—

"Excuse me? Would it be ok if I sat here? I’m waiting for someone but the guys at the bar won’t leave me alone." You were biting your lip a little, trying your best not to look too awkward as you asked the tall, dark, and you assumed handsome but you couldn’t tell around the mask he was wearing. You felt nervous, but not to be talking to you, you were nervous for a laundry list of other reasons. Including and limited to meeting your father for the first time since you were barely three years old.

When the pub had been suggested to you, you’d thought the closeness to his base was an advantage- casual, easy, public, nearby- what you hadn’t accounted for was the herds of young soldiers that would also be there. Trying to buy yourself a drink to calm your nerves while you waited had resulted in four heinous pick up lines, three cocktail napkins with phone numbers scrawled on them, two vulgar gestures, and one marriage proposal. Like the 12 days of Christmas song, but from hell. The only place that wasn’t buzzing with sloshed young soldiers was a dark corner with an absolute behemoth of a masked man, two empties and a half drank tumbler of whiskey. Despite (or perhaps because of) the nerves, jet lag, and shot of tequila you’d just took because of said nerves, you considered yourself something of a strategist.

After you asked, narrowed amber eyes flicked up to you appraisingly, pinning you to your spot. Even slightly slouched over his drink, he was huge. Not just tall, but built like a brick house. He wasn’t wearing an actual military uniform, but everything about him just read military. He stared at you for a second, then a minutes, stretching into two. To your credit, you kept your chin high and your eyes level on his. Right as you started to say, "Never mind, sorry to bother-"

" ’s fine." His voice was deep and kind of gravelly, low enough that his quiet tone was almost lost to the barroom chatter. His accent wasn’t one you’d heard before, a bit sharper and choppier than the accent John had on the phone. He scooted further into the booth, dragging his drink with him. As you turned back and slid into the corner booth, he scrutinized you again, like you were supposed to be familiar to him, "I know you?"

"Doubt it." You smiled, a tight lipped but warm thing. You knew you didn’t know him considering this was the first time you’d set foot in this country. Not to mention you’d undoubtedly remember a character like this. So instead, you offered him your name and an outstretched hand. He nodded, neither returning the exchange or shaking your hand, just grunting to show he heard you.

Still, he scanned you again. Simon was sure he’d never met you, but there was something about you that was eerily familiar. It was the feeling of someone’s name being on the tip of his tongue but slipping between thoughts before he could place it, or a song that as soon as he tried to think about it the melody slipped away. It wasn’t your physical features, as pretty of a bird as you were. That little smile, the way you carried yourself, the saunter in your walk, how your shoulder were held, the set of your jaw, you were young in the face but seemed older, the casual confidence so rare for someone your age… These were all things so familiar to him, but he couldn’t connect it to it’s match. Maybe it was the bourbon.

"Y’not from ‘round here." He stated, and it wasn’t a question. Simon knew it as a fact. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why someone not from here would patronize a piss-poor pub like this, especially a bird like you- pretty and warm and put together. He rose an eyebrow that shifted the brow of his mask, "What brings you?"

Blunt and to the point. Definitely military. You leaned back against the booth, your finger tracing the glass rim of the wine glass you’d set down in front of you. White wine from a shit hole like this was one of the many clues that you didn’t belong here.

"Meeting someone important." You answered vaguely with another one of those warm but tight smiles. Seriously, where did he know that from? "He’s late."

"A date?" He pressed further with eyes that were somehow intense and disinterested at the same time. You couldn’t decide if his bluntness was a military quirk or social dysfunction, or possibly both. Of course he couldn’t know that this was the furthest thing from a date you could be doing tonight, which made you laugh, loudly and suddenly. The noise took Simon off guard, but not for it’s spontaneity or for how bright and beautiful it was , but because it tugged at that feeling a familiarity, bordering on nostalgia.

"Oh, god no." You rushed, shaking your head and forming an X over your chest for good measure, still laughing a bit as you took a sip of wine. Still, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to describe John. "Not a date. I’m just meeting…. someone important."

Simon doesn't know why this pleased him. Something about you being available and talking to him as opposed to the damnably flashy and obnoxious grunts wearing their dress uniforms to the pub on a fuckin’ Tuesday… Simon’s mouth quirked into a subtle smirk as he lifted his mask enough to take a sip of his bourbon, not missing how your too-familiar eyes followed the movement, intrigued and keen, “Who then?"

"Nope, I’ve already answered, like, three questions. Your turn?" There was that casual confidence again as you turned the question on him with that little grin, legs cross under the table as your nails clicked against the sticky wood table, "What brings��you here?"

Simon’s expression under the mask soured again, eyes fixing on the lipstick stain on your wine glass. Pretty color… He wondered how it’d look smeared along his mouth. Or his cock. He shook that thought out of his head, bringing his eyes back to yours. Maybe it was the bourbon that loosened his tongue, or maybe those eyes of yours, “Got in a fight with a mate o’ mine. It was… suggested that we give each other some space.”

‘Suggested' was nice was of saying Price manhandled him all the way to the guard station at the gate. Like a scolded dog being put outside.

“So you’ve put yourself in the corner? Are you in timeout?” You quirked an eyebrow in another frustratingly familiar gesture, something that made him chuckle instead of bristle as you gestured to the dark corner he’d been lurking in.

“Something like that.” He nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

“What was the fight about?” You asked casually, taking another sip of your wine. Normally so private, Simon would’ve bitten a stranger’s head off for such a personal question. But coming from you, between his desire to keep your attention on him and the ever present nagging sense of familiarity, he just sighed.

“Hard week pushed some buttons. We’ve both got tempers. Mine’s worse.” He explanation was simple, both from characteristic standoffishness and the fact the mission that had provoked this fight had taken place in a country the British Military was not supposed to be. Another deep sigh like the confession took something wrenching from him, “He puts up with me usually, but I… said somethings’ I shouldn’t’ve.”

You nodded sagely, taking in the rather vague information with eyes settled on the far wall as if you were doing mental math, quiet deductions. He recognized this look from somewhere, this was the look of someone looking for answers and solutions. Your fingers tapped against the table again before your eyes slid back to him, “So you were both assholes to each other, but you were worse?”

“Yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Simon scoffed as you boiled down his already barebones explanation even further. You nodded again, looking at him quizzically.

“Have you thought about just apologizing?” You rose an eyebrow at him, your head cocking a little to the side. The most obvious answer in the world that for some reason he couldn’t wrap his hand around. He opened his mouth to protest, but you were quicker, voice chiding in way he’d heard before- but from where?, “No, let me guess, it’s not that simple, you can’t just apologize.”

For a moment you dropped your voice a little lower and attmepted a half imitation of his Mancunian accent which would’ve been offensive if it wasn’t exactly what he was about to say. You huffed a quiet lap before returning to your normal tone with a roll of your eyes, “Believe me, yes, it is that simple, and, yes, you can just apologize. And if you truly think it’s not something an apology would fix, let him get one good hit in and get it out of your systems. Problem solved.”

“Get it out of our systems?” Simon asked a little incredulously, despite the sampling of a sharp wit and the occasional hard glint to your eyes, he hadn’t expected someone as soft looking as you to jump to punching as a serious form of conflict resolution. Hell, you sounded more like his Captain Price than some random pretty thing in a pub, “that’s terrible advice.”

“You telling me you would’ve seriously taken my apologize and talk it out advice?” Your eyebrows raised again as you leaned forward on your elbows onto the table- another frustratingly familiar look that would’ve distracted him if your now exposed cleavage didn’t distract him further. He swallowed as he stared, feeling the growing need to get something out of his system, and his fight with Johnny was becoming less and less forefront in his mind.

“Not a chance.” He shook his head, sniper eyes locking in on the drop of wine that escaped your glass and slid between your breasts, quickly disappearing between skin and under your shirt. He could find it with his tongue, bet your skin made the wine sweeter…

“Yeah,” You laughed again, setting down the empty glass, finding this intriguing masked character to be a wonderful distraction from the anxiety of this upcoming meeting. And if John was running late, you’d take advantage of the distraction, “Figured as much.”

___

An hour and another glass of wine later, you’d continued to scoot closer to the masked man in the booth with you. He was first to initiate contact, throwing an arm over your shoulders in the pretense of keeping you close enough to hear over the rowdy group cheering on a rugby game, it was you who had leaned into his side. His hand had found your thigh first, but your nails were tracing little shapes and words against his forearm.

“Who was it you were meetin' 'ere, sweetheart?” Simon asked again, his mask still rolled over his nose again as he took another sip of his bourbon, lips grazing your earring as his breath fanned over your neck. He wondered how you would react if his teeth tugged one of the pretty little earrings you’d picked out. You were distracted noticing how his accent minced certain letters in syllables in a delectable way, “Only a fool’d keep you waitin’ this long.”

Two glasses of wine and jet lag had done away with your need for vague answers as you leaned into him, shivering as the smell of bourbon, cigarettes, and gunpowder started to overpower your perfume. You swallowed, eyes meeting his with a bit of nervousness he hadn’t been able to pick up on you until just now, “I’m meeting my father. We’ve been estranged most of my life. And he’s an hour and forty five late now.”

“Shit.” Simon muttered under his breath, not thinking you could’ve said anything that could really surprise him. Meeting your estranged father and yet you’d spent the last two hours coaching and comforting him through a fight with his friend. That level of self sacrifice should’ve clued him into your parentage almost immediately, but he was busy staring at how your wide eyes were staring up at him through your lashes, teeth toying with the seam of your lips that your tongue kept darting out to wet.

“I’m a little nervous.” You admitted, the nail that was tracing shapes on his forearm dropped down to his massive thigh to brace yourself. If you leaned any closer, you’d be all but in his lap- which wouldn’t be the worse thing, both of you mentally decided. You took a deep breath, sipping some of the water you’d ordered midway through your third glass of wine, "A lot nervous, actually.”

One thing about Simon, was that as a sniper, he was opportunistic. When he saw a shot, he took it. And you just lined him up to test his theory on how long it’d take to convince you to slip into the pub bathrooms with him.

His arm around your shoulder adjusted so he could gently brush some hair behind your ear, thumb purposely grazing your cheekbone before he tilted your face up to meet his, “Well, you know the best way to get over your nerves?”

The sudden closeness stunned any witty retort to silence as you hummed for him to continue, swallowing thickly in a way that brought those keenly sharp eyes to watch the bob of your throat. He chuckled lowly to himself, so sweet and perfect, he was about to absolutely ruin you. But he wasn’t evil, he’d put you back together again…

“Gotta… work... it outta your system. Just like you said, sweetheart.” His other hand was kneading into your thigh through the pretty satin of your skirt, such a good girl, with a skirt below your knees, and he looked forward to shredding those tights underneath with nothing but his teeth and bare hands. But… he wondered if he could make you cum through them before he ruined them, and with the way you tensed and then melted at his touch, he was betting the answer was a firm yes. “Gonna let me help you like you’ve been helping me?”

You thought he sure had a funny way of equating this heavy petting to the teasing and mild comfort you’d offered about his fight with this ‘Soap’ guy, but you nodded anyway. All the pent-up anxiety made it an eager motion as he chuckled, leaning forward and catching your mouth, so possessive and borderline aggressive at your compliance. He was a bit of a bully, using his bulk and his weight so you would bend underneath him like he was testing how hard he had to press for you to break, and when you whined at the feeling of him biting your lip, he only swallowed your sounds and laughed into your mouth.

Lips smearing your pretty makeup, one hand tangling your hair into his finger and the other fisting your skirt so it started hiking up your legs, and one of his boots nudging your ankles out of their polite cross so he could start prying your thighs apart. God, you were making out (bordering on hooking up) with a nameless, masked man with anger issues while you waited to meet your estranged father for basically the first time… What had your life come to?

Actually, the absent father bit explained the masked stranger bit if you thought about it for more than three seconds.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve gotta be taking the absolute piss, Simon.” A sudden and angry voice, familiar to both of you sounded from the front of your secluded little booth. You jumped back away from your paramour. Simon, apparently was his name, while he only turned in frustrated confusion at his captain interrupted him blowing off steam, just as he’d been instructed when Price all but kicked him off base for the night.

Your eyes went wide in absolute mortification, like you’d melt under the table and just die there. Standing there, watching you sloppily make out with someone he apparently knew, was your father. John Price. Who hadn’t seen you since you were three years old and compulsively carried around a Kermit the frog stuffie everywhere you went… He looked older compared to your hazy memories of him and the singular picture your mother hadn’t burned, and the interesting facial hair only made him look older. You suspected he was capable of looking warm and kind, your mother always said you got his soft eyes and smile, but right now he looked pissed.

“Price?” Simon questioned, yanking his mask back over his mouth to hide the smears of his lipstick, wondering if this temper had something to do with the mission or with his fight with the sergeant and if so, why it was urgent enough to interrupt him right now. He’d noted how you went rigid underneath him, batting his hand out of the balmy soft canyon between your spread thighs before they clamped shut again. Shit, that door was rapidly closing...

You spoke at the same time as Simon, your voice somewhere between hesitant questioning and caught teenager, “Dad?”

“Dad?” Simon immediately parroted, his respect for his Captain superseding the whiskey and lust as he peeled himself off of you quickly doing mental math Olympics to figure out genetics and age gaps, “Bloody Hell, John-“

You shrieked, as Simon didn’t get a chance to justify himself or even ask, how was I supposed to know the bird I was trying to fuck was your kid you’ve never told anyone about? Because your father’s face went red instantly, jumping across the booth and landing a scarily hard punch across Simon’s face, spilling wine and whiskey all over you in the process.

So it was going to be a bloody knuckles kind of night, after all.

____

Sorry I kinda changed up your request a little bit, I started writing and it kinda got away from me. I'm a slave to the little worm in my brain.

#call of duty modern warfare x reader #codmw x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #cod mwii x reader

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boolger · 5 months ago

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A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John.

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

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barcameowski · 2 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋

basically a small part 2 of so american

warnings: none

face claim: sophia havertz

pairing: lando norris x american!reader

𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽

liked by landonorris , alexandrasaintmleux , mikkykiemeny and 319,000 others

yourusername: how is someone a formula one driver but almost crashed into a tree? 🌹

view comments

landonorris: IT WAS AN ACCIDENT

⇝ yourusername: AN ACCIDENT THAT ALMOST COST ME MY LIFE

landonorris: I’m just gonna stop reading the captions from now on, you look pretty

⇝ liked by creator

alexandrasaintmleux: your hair is beautiful !

⇝ yourusername: so is yours !!

user1: why are they so dramatic 😭

user2: she’s so elegant american sweetheart and he’s so british tea and crumpets

⇝ landonorris: opposites attract I guess

user3: FERRARI RED?!

⇝ yourusername: NO ITS JUST A DRESS DONT CANCEL ME

user4: I wanna see her on the streammmm

⇝ landonorris: your wish is my command

user5: lando what did you do to her

user6: she’s so passenger princess coded

user7: I love this dress pls send it to me

user8: favorite song?

⇝ yourusername: so high school by taylor swift💕

user9: those style accounts trying to find all her outfits as fast as possible

user10: I can’t wait for your birthday 🥳

user11: thoughts on the wicked movie?

⇝ yourusername: I sobbed

user12: poor yn

user13: favorite nickname for lando?

⇝ yourusername: im glad you asked, first on my list is crumpet, second is norris, third is just the letter L

user14: I thought you were supposed to be in the uk?

⇝ yourusername: surprise trip to st tropez 🌺

user15: the most beautiful

⇝ user16: the beautifulest

user17: landonorris if you don’t take her on a pasta date I’m coming for you

⇝ landonorris: we’re having one right now 🤩

⇝ user18: GET OFF YOUR PHONE

⇝ landonorris: OKAY DAMN

liked by alexandrasaintmleux ,yourusername , carmenmmundt and 483,000 others

landonorris: happy birthday to my american girl I love you more than words can describe and I promise to buy you another cat next year even though you don’t need it, your lando ❤️

view comments:

yourusername: thank you love you even more 😘

⇝ landonorris: that isn’t possible

alexandrasaintmleux: happy birthday to her 🤩

carmenmmundt: happy birthday !

maxfewtrell: happy birthday ferret

pietra.pilao: happy birthdayyy

comments are limited

requests are open

#lando norris smau #lando norris x you #lando norris 4 #lando norris x reader #x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one

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sinofwriting · 9 months ago

Text

Under His Wing - Jenson Button

Words: 1,177 Summary: Oscar had thought when Mark had taken his sister under his wing that it was a great idea. Turns out it was the worst idea in the world as he stares at a picture of Jenson and his sister kissing. Note(s): Reader is Oscar’s sister. Large age gap between her and Jenson. No part two will be written.

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

Oscar had four sisters. All younger than him and all equally as annoying and he didn’t have a favorite. It would be unfair really. But if he was to have a favorite sister? It would be Y/N.

They were nearly twins, just ten months apart, but you’d never think so with the way she always tagged along with him everywhere.

When he moved to the UK for his racing career, six months later she joined him. When he moved out of boarding school and into a flat, she joined him. She joined him at races, at pr and press events, she always joined him. And thankfully when Mark became his manager in 2020 he recognized how important she was to him, really how important his family was to him, and as soon as she got her degree she was working with Mark.

Oscar had been beyond grateful, because she loved f1 just as much as he did, she just didn’t have an interest in driving. She did want a career in it and Mark had given her that opportunity without Oscar having to beg whatever team he was a part of to give her a chance or make her an employee of his, which would have not worked for either of them.

He’s beyond grateful for the chance that Mark gave her, for what Mark has done for him, for his career, for taking them both under his wing, but now as he stares at the photo on his phone, he wishes that he never let Mark Webber meet his sister.

—

“Jenson.” She giggles as he presses kisses to her neck.

He grins at the sound, nipping at the thin skin and reveling in her gasp. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Her temple presses briefly against his as she gently shakes her head. “I want a kiss.”

He can hear the pout on her lips, the wide-eyed look she has on her face, as she tries to get what she wants. Not, he thinks, that she really has to try and convince him to give her anything.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He murmurs, turning her so she’s facing him and sure enough, she’s pouting up at him, her bottom lip sticking out beautifully. “You want a kiss?”

She nods.

Leaning down, he kisses her, taking that bottom lip of hers in between his own. “Is that better?”

“Much.” She sighs, making him kiss her again.

Releasing her, he watches as she goes over to her bag and pulls out of her phone. A joke is on the tip of his tongue about kids and their phones these days, but his dominant hand is pulling his own phone out of his pants pocket, wanting to check his messages before seeing if he can convince her to join him in the shower, a light sweat clinging to him from their hike.

His eyebrows furrow at the sheer amount of missed calls and texts he has and he quickly answers the next call.

“Mark, Is everything alright?”

“Jenson.”

“What’s going on?” He asks, shooting a concerned glance at Y/N, whose looking at her phone, confused.

“Are you in California right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you with anyone?”

His eyebrow raises, “no. Why?”

“So, Y/N Piastri, Oscar’s sister and my assistant isn’t with you.”

Jenson freezes. “How did you-?”

The older cuts him off. “You two were spotted on a hike, kissing.”

“Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face while the one holding his phone, pulls the device away from his ear and mouth a bit. “Sweetheart, we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Does the problem have anything to do with why Oscar has nonstop been calling and texting me?” She asks, moving back over to him and he winces as she watches her let another call from Oscar just ring through.

“We got spotted on our hike.” He tells her, as he puts his phone on speaker. “Mark called as well.” He doesn’t mention any of the other names he also saw littering his phone screen, that could wait until after.

“How bad is it?”

“PR wise?” Jenson’s nose wrinkles, face twisting in disgust at how that’s the first thing Mark says, considers, even though it’s his job in some sort. “Not too bad. There’s a lot of shock, questions. It’s more Oscar I’m worried about.”

“He’s not happy.”

“Happy?” Mark laughs. “He apparently went ballistic seeing the photos. Lily called me, she was with him when he saw. Last update I had from her, he was trying to get Max to give him his private jet so he could come to California to kill Jenson. Since y’know he found out through twitter that his little sister is doing something with a guy twice her age.”

“You introduced us.” Jenson protests.

“Yeah, because I thought you’d be good friends. Not,” he pauses unsure of what to call it.

“Dating?” She fills in for him.

“Yeah, dating.” He sighs. “Did anyone know before this?”

“No.” They both answer at the same time.

Mark sighs again. “Alright, well it’s time to start talking. You need to call your own manager Jenson, Y/N call Oscar, we can handle our side of the PR after Jenson gets his figured out.”

“Got it. Sorry, Mark.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Before Jenson can say anything the call is ended and he’s staring at his phone, bemused. “I think he likes you more than me.”

She laughs. “Well, do you blame him?”

He quickly shakes his head. “No. Be stupid to not like you.” He dips his head down, wanting a kiss, but she steps away, shaking her head.

“No, not happening. You can get a kiss after you talk to your manager and I talk Oscar out of killing you.”

Jenson winces, that was not going to be a fun conversation. “I’m alright with a bit of light maiming.”

“Jenson.”

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles at the serious look on her face. “He’s going to want to kill and hurt me. I’m sure your mum and dad are the same way. I’m sure next time I see Mark I’m going to get a nice elbow to the ribs. It’s just what’s going to happen. I made my piece with that after our fifth date.”

She pouts and he can’t help but pull her into a hug. “I don’t want you to get hurt and I don’t want anyone fighting about this.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of her head. “And we can hope that it doesn’t happen, that it goes more smoothly than how it feels currently, but we both knew that us being together would rock the boat.”

“I think we need a bigger boat.”

He snorts. “Maybe. Now let’s make our calls, get them done and over with yeah?”

“Yeah.” She sighs, pulling away from him before smiling and then she’s pouting up at him again, just like earlier. “Kiss?”

He shakes his head, but brushes their lips together for just half a second. “There ya go, sweetheart. Little something to tide you over.”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @gothgirlez @namgification @KimmiB13 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou300morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

#jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #the things i would let jenson do to me...#i mean what?#sins 5k bday bash fics #sins fics

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landososcar · 1 year ago

Text

lover ; LN4

pairing(s) ; lando norris x swiftie!reader

summary ; in which y/n just wants to post pictures of her boyfriend, not expecting people to get the wrong idea

warnings ; smau, lots of fluff

note ; its 3am and i didn’t want to sleep til i finished this so idk what mistakes there probably is lmao😭 also just pretend the twitter stuff says 2024 i cba changing it all

instagram ; yourusername

liked by nando4lorris, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername i saw the dimples first and then i heard the accent 💓☺️

view all comments

user1 who are you

carlossainz55 you tagged the wrong account silly

yourusername you replied with the wrong account moron

nando4lorris you two aren’t slick

yourusename yeah ok mr nando lorris

nando4lorris you’re supposed to be on my side wtf

user2 i’m so lost 😭😭

user3 i’m confused someone explain

user4 babe everyone’s confused

user5 wait so is this carlos’ gf or not

user6 idk who you are but you’re hot as fuck

user7 ok i swear i’ve seen carlos wear that top in the 4th pic before

user8 yeah i think i’ve seen lando wearing it too tho

user9 but lando isn’t in this girls likes and comments

nando4lorris yeah guys you’re right she’s gotta be carlos’ girlfriend

yourusername nando4lorris fuck off i hate you so much 😭😭😭😭😭

user10 ????????

instagram ; yourusername

liked by landonorris, nando4lorris and others

yourusername i’d like to hang out with you for my whole life 🤗🧡

view all comments

user1 crying because lando liked on his main AND his burner (confirmed)

yourusername p.s. the tag in these pics is for PHOTO CREDS 😁

user2 LMFAOOO HER COMMENT

user3 girl said my mans is NOT carlos sainz jr🙅‍♀️

user4 i have so much to say

user5 the taylor love lyrics, the orange heart emoji, the flowers, the ladybugs, THE CAT CARDIGAN

user6 i think i would die for her

nando4lorris 🧡🧡

yourusername 🥰

carlossainz55 i thought you guys were still trying to be sneaky

yourusername carlos you’re the one making it hard to be sneaky

user7 oh it’s so lando

carlossainz55 oh well it’s been 4 years everyone already knew

user8 ITS BEEN WHAT JEHFKSKKS ????????

instagram ; landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and others

landonorris i’ve loved you (five) summers now honey but i want them all 😁😁

view all comments

user1 oh my god

user2 FIVEEEEE SUMMERS????? EVEN MORE THAN CARLOS SAID !/?;&2!@:9(

carlossainz55 i’m sorry i just guessed how many years because i didn’t know exactly just that its been a long long time

yourusername it’s ok carlos you were close

user3 SHES BEEN TO RACES AND NO ONES EVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT HER OH MY GOD

maxverstappen1 finally mate

oscarpiastri wooo secrets out 🥳

user4 he used a taylor lyric for the caption im gonna be sick

user5 if you zoom in on the second pic you can actually see me drowning myself in the background

ciscanorris1 💓💓

yourusername love you🥰

user6 wait i don’t have twitter can someone explain

user7 oh BABE you’ve got some catching up to do

yourusername my fav boy love you to saturn ☺️🧡

landonorris i love you more than you love taylor swift🥰

yourusername ok settle down babe don’t go too far

landonorris no sorry you’re right

user8 when he understands that ones love for taylor is never beaten >>>>>

user9 i need them biblically

user10 i still don’t understand how they hid her for 5 years lmfaoooo

user11 yourusername ok y/n but did he take you to the eras tour

yourusername he got us tickets for a uk show later this year 🥰🥰

user12 now, how’d that curly haired vroom vroom bitch pull HER

liked by landonorris!

my other works !

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oaksgrove · 2 months ago

Text

A Life Left Behind

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x ex!Reader, John Price x Reader

Synopsis: When Price accidentally lets it slip at a pub that he has a missus waiting at home, Simon never suspects it could be you. That is, until a snowy Christmas Eve, when fate leads him past a warmly lit window, where the life he could’ve had reveals itself in full, devastating clarity.

Warnings: Heavy angst, themes of regret and break up, bittersweet holiday vibes.

Word Count: 1214

a/n: I’ve had this idea swirling in my head for a while—it’s pure heartbreak with a festive backdrop. English isn’t my first language, and this was witten in a rush, so thank you for your patience and all the support on my writing!

Manchester, UK. october | 9:20PM | 8°C

The vanilla scent of your favorite candle hung in the air, bittersweet against the tension suffocating the room. It reminded Simon of softer nights—of the evenings you spent curled together on the couch, your laughter filling the silence he’d grown so accustomed to before you. The thought was fleeting, a warm ember snuffed out by the cold reality that now stood between you.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively, your eyes a mix of anger and hurt. Simon loomed near the window, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself for a blow.

“Say something, Simon,” you demanded, your voice raw with emotion. “Anything.”

He didn’t move at first, his gaze fixed on the street outside. His jaw tightened, the cords of muscle twitching under his skin. “What do you want me to say?” he finally asked, his voice low, restrained—like he was holding back a flood.

You stepped closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I want you to tell me this isn’t real. That you don’t mean it when you say it’s better if we break up.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. The conflict in his eyes was like a storm on the horizon—rage, sadness, and guilt all warring beneath the surface. Then he shut it down, closing himself off again. “It is better,” he said, his voice faltering before he hardened it.

“For who, Simon?” Your voice cracked, frustration mingling with the ache in your chest. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

“For you,” he replied, firmer this time. “You deserve someone who can give you more than this—more than me.”

You could only stare at him, disbelief giving way to anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me! I knew what I was getting into, and I’m here, Simon. I chose you!”

His hand went to the back of his neck, a frustrated gesture you’d seen countless times. “I can’t keep doing this to you,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t see it now, but you’ll be better off without me.”

Your mind flooded with memories—of Simon’s quiet presence grounding you after bad days, of his rare, unguarded moments of laughter that felt like secrets shared just between the two of you. The way he would silently slip your favorite mug into your hands during cold mornings, the weight of his arm around you as you fell asleep.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “You’re pushing me away because you think it’s what’s best for me? You’re not even giving me a choice.”

His silence was deafening, his eyes locked on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze.

“I hope you believe that one day,” you said, grabbing your coat.

Your feet carried you to the door, and your hand hesitated on the knob. You wanted him to call out, to fight for you, to prove that this wasn’t just another wall he was building. But he didn’t.

You glanced back, and for a moment, he looked as though he might break—his fists clenched, his body taut with tension. But then his gaze dropped, and the words that could have saved you both never came.

“Goodbye, Simon.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the cold October air wrapped around you as you walked away. Your legs moved on autopilot, but your mind stayed trapped in the warmth of the memories you were leaving behind.

The time he stayed up with you after your first fight, awkwardly holding your hand as he whispered, “I’m not good at this, but I’ll try.” The way he watched you with something close to wonder the night you wore his hoodie, laughing at his terrible attempt at making pancakes. The rare nights he let you in—told you stories of his childhood, of the people he lost. The first time he said, “I don’t deserve you,” and you kissed him before he could finish.

The sound of your own footsteps became unbearable, each one taking you further away from a man who couldn’t see that he was already everything you needed.

The Old Wellington - Manchester, UK. 1 year later, august | 9:45PM | 10°C

The pub buzzed with life, the comforting chaos of clinking glasses and laughter filling the air. Simon sat in the corner, detached, his untouched whiskey warming in his hand. His team’s voices faded into the background as his thoughts wandered to the edges of places he’d been avoiding.

Soap’s voice boomed above the noise, mid-story and gesturing wildly. “And then, just as the guy thinks he’s outsmarted us, the bloody fence gives way and—bam! Flat on his arse!”

Gaz burst into laughter, his grin wide. “You’ve got to be making that up.”

Price leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “It’s true. I was there.”

Simon stared into his glass, barely hearing the conversation. Soap nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Ghost, are you alive in there?”

Simon glanced up, forcing a faint smirk. “Listening to you lot’s more entertaining than talking.”

“Sure it is,” Soap teased, raising his glass.

Price set his drink down, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got to go. It’s already late, missus is waiting for me at home.”

Soap nearly choked on his beer. “Wait a minute. You’ve got a missus? Since when?”

Gaz leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, Cap. You’ve been holding out on us!”

“She likes her privacy,” Price replied with a shrug, a soft edge to his voice. “But yeah, I’ve got a missus.”

Simon’s grip on his glass tightened. The word missus hit him like a shot, sharp and precise, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“What’s she like?” Soap asked, clearly intrigued.

Price’s expression softened as he thought about her. “She’s… everything, really. Smart, kind, funny. Keeps me on my toes.”

“She sounds like a saint, putting up with you,” Soap teased with a laugh.

Simon’s chest tightened at the word saint. The thought surfaced before he could stop it. My girl was a saint too…

He swallowed hard, his grip on the glass like a lifeline. He pictured you in his mind—your patience, your warmth, the way you’d look at him like he wasn’t the sum of his mistakes. He’d told himself a thousand times that he’d let you go for your own good, but here he was, haunted by memories he couldn’t shake.

“She is,” Price admitted with a rare smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Simon looked away, draining his whiskey in one gulp. The burn was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

“You good?” Price asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Simon straightened, forcing himself to appear calm. “Just remembered something I’ve got to take care of.”

He stood abruptly, tossing some cash on the table. “Catch you later.”

He left before anyone could question him, stepping out into the cold night air. The sharp chill bit at his skin, but it wasn’t enough to distract him.

She was a saint, wasn’t she? The thought lingered, twisting the knife. But he didn’t deserve saints. He never had.

Manchester, UK. 2 years later, december | 9:45PM | 6°C

Christmas had arrived, cloaking the streets of Manchester in a pristine layer of snow. The world felt hushed, the crunch of Simon’s boots against the frozen ground the only sound in the quiet night. His breath puffed in soft clouds, dissolving into the still air.

He hadn’t planned to be here—hadn’t even realized where his aimless wandering had taken him until he found himself on a familiar street. The glow of your living room window caught his eye, and before he could stop himself, he was standing there, looking in.

The scene inside was alive with warmth. Golden light spilled over the living room, illuminating a Christmas tree laden with ornaments. You stood beside it, a delicate bauble in your hand, your laughter bright as it mingled with the joyous chaos of two young boys crawling around the tree.

Simon’s gaze shifted. Price was there, standing close to you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. The easy intimacy between you spoke volumes—a language Simon once knew but had long forgotten.

His chest tightened, the ache sharp and familiar. He stood frozen, his breath catching as a memory surfaced unbidden: you, sitting beside him on a cold night like this, your hand in his as you talked about the future. A future he’d convinced himself he couldn’t give you.

Now, here it was, vivid and real—but it wasn’t his.

You turned then, your eyes meeting his through the frosted glass. The moment stretched, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. Your expression softened, a bittersweet smile forming as if you understood everything he couldn’t say.

Simon’s gloved hand brushed the glass, the chill biting through the leather. For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine what it would feel like to step inside, to join the warmth instead of watching from the cold.

But he knew better.

He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, before stepping back. The snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he turned away, his silhouette fading into the quiet night.

The ache lingered, but as he walked, it shifted—no longer a weight that dragged him down, but something softer, bearable. You were happy. That was enough.

The falling snow blurred his footprints behind him, erasing the path he’d taken to get here. Simon didn’t look back, his lips twitching into a faint smile. For the first time in years, he felt the beginnings of peace. Because some losses, though painful, could eventually feel like victories when love found its way to where it belonged.

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phillietemple · 2 months ago

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tit preshow drinking game

the show you’re about to watch is good, this isn’t

phil defends it saying it's a different experience

they introduce the phlit and it takes way too long (at US shows, talk about how they don’t have mailboxes in the uk)

phil treats the phlit weirdly sexually

this was your opportunity to ask us deep, hard hitting questions about life (you're laughing bc you didn't)

should we be scared of what you put in the box? YESS

if anything offends you, it’s your fault bc you asked the questions

the first question sets the tone

who’s watering the houseplants? FUCK. the pheal is watering them (can ppl stop asking this question like omg)

(ridiculous random question) “i’ve been waiting 15 years to see dan and phil, THIS is what i’m gonna ask them”

unhinged fuck marry kill

domestic lore drop

phil thinks a card is blank but he just has to flip it over

question about something specific to the city everyone goes crazy

phil suggests susan as a name for something

a question is addressed to one of them and they act like it’s an insult to the other

phil broken rib mention

“the european mind cannot comprehend”

someone asks phil about soup “am i chewing am i swallowing, am i drinking”

if we had a pet it would be dead right now

any variation of will you wear wigs (we’re wearing wigs right now)

it is now my job to take a commemorative selfie, if you need to sort your hair out DO IT NOW

#would only recommend playing this with water. or perhaps some warm milk #otherwise you'd be dead #they're so predictable #dan and phil #dnp #phan #daniel howell #phil lester #terrible influence tour #tit preshow

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sunshineandspencer · 8 months ago

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Friendly face (Part 3)

A/N: I know I said I always succumb to peer pressure, but that did not need to be tested. Also if I did a Hotch(or Spencer) taglist, would anyone be interested, also.. how do you do a taglist?? I may be 20 and from the UK, but I have only been using tumblr for about two months, I’m learning (slowly). [I’ve made a form for a taglist!! it’s underneath the parts!!]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Receptionist!Reader.

Summary: Little does the team know, their little receptionist and their Unit Chief had been closer for a lot longer than any of them knew. And while he’s brilliant at hiding it, she is now.

Word Count: 825

Warnings: please, stop requesting the fluff it hurts my little heart

part 1! and 2!!

be added to the taglist!!

Honestly, she could come to work with a massive neon sign floating above her head saying ‘stupidly in love with Aaron Hotchner’ and it would have probably the same effect as she normally does to him.

While he goes through the rules, needing to check about whether their relationship - yes, relationship - was actually legal, they needed to keep it secret.

A serious conversation they’d had over dinner well over six months ago, one that she’d seem to conveniently forget whenever they were actually in the office together. Thankfully that isn’t very often, unless he’s personally asked for files she stays by her desk.

Sometimes, he will admit, he requests reports just to get her into the office, but not very often.

However, it seemed to have been just often enough for his coworkers - Emily, mostly - to realise. From there, and after getting everyone else to join her, they were trying to find exactly how much the pair actually cared for each other.

Crowding together at the round table, quickly giving everything they’d noticed before Hotch arrived.

Emily starts, grinning at both Morgan and Spencer, nothing better than a bit of office gossip.

“So, she doesn’t hide anything. But, we’re all well aware that he sometimes uses excuses to get her into his office. But I noticed that she always leaves post-it notes on the files that she does give him, and they do look sickeningly sweet. It’s hard to believe Hotch actually likes that.”

Spencer chimes in, wringing his fingers lightly. He loves gossip as much as the next person, but the receptionist is a sweetheart and treats him so kindly, plus he doesn’t really believe in talking about other people’s business.

However, he’s invested in her happiness, and knows that there’s more to the pair than meets the eye.

“Well.. he smiles at her, more than I’ve ever really seen. And he does things for her that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He helped her set up her desk and made sure she settled properly with the team.. plus Penelope found the paperwork and he requested her to be moved up.”

“What?! She didn’t tell me that!” Morgan looked pretty dejected, and Emily could only pat his back apologetically. But as much as they want to say that Morgan is her favourite, Spencer is everyone’s favourite.

He just shrugged, and Morgan kept talking, needing to add in what he’d seen - and profiled - about the two of them.

“Whatever. We’ve all seen how smitten Jack is with her, kid practically has hearts coming from his eyes. And I heard them talking about her having stayed over on the weekend. And we all see the way Hotch is with the two of them, it’s like the past decade of the job lifts off him.”

They all eventually came to the agreement that they believed that Hotch and their receptionist were together, and they needed to know more. The achilles heel of most profilers, the desire for gossip whenever they can get it.

Hearing footsteps approaching, they quickly nominated Spencer to ask Hotch, panicking the younger agent as he spluttered over his words.

As Hotch stepped through, with her following close behind, files in her hands as she waited for Hotch to take them. Waving to the rest of the team happily, very grateful the images weren’t on screen yet. Emily booted Spencer under the table and he jolted, getting Hotch’s attention.

“Hotch!” His voice cracked, how cute. “I uh- we, we wondered if you and uhm.. if you two--”

Christ, she wanted to take pity on the poor boy, looking up at Aaron. Thankfully he seemed amused rather than irritated that they’d worked it out. Looks like they got their answers on whether or not the relationship was allowed.

He nodded at her softly and she grinned, leaning up to peck his lips quickly, stuffing the files into his hands.

“Let me know if you take the case?”

“I’ll text you.”

Grinning, she winked at Spencer, which earned her a warning “sweetheart”, which only fed into her giddiness now that they didn’t have to hide it. Loving the surprised looks on their faces, even though Morgan was definitely acting as if he knew the whole time. Exactly as Aaron said he would, god she loves that he knows them so well.

“Stay safe you lot. Bring my boyfriend home safe or I’ll hunt you down!”

As she walked out of the briefing room, she smacked Aaron’s ass and scampered off giggling, being followed with his scolding voice.

“Dove.”

Eventually, he had to turn back around to his grinning teammates - bar a very embarrassed Spencer who now avoided his boss’ gaze - he sunk into his chair. Waiting for whichever one was going to say something first.

Emily, of course, was the one to speak up first, looking at him all innocently as if she didn’t know damn well what she was doing.

“Dove~?”

“Don’t push it.”

Want more?! Good!

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner

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cheriladycl01 · 7 months ago

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Type of Holiday Brit? - Lando Norris x Reader

Plot: You and Lando, try and book a holiday with something you both want to do.

“Okay, but you don’t understand” you groaned to Lando as you were scrolling through multiple different travel agents on your laptop.

Tui, Virgin, British Airways.

“I think i do underhand baby” Lando chuckles back, looking over your shoulder at the tab your currently scrolling through.

“Just because your the Impulsive type of Holiday Brit doesn’t mean we have to do just that” you say, closing your laptop lid, so it’s ajar the screen still lighting up the dimming room.

“Type of Holiday Brit? What on Earth do you mean?” He chuckles having no clue what you are going in about.

“There are four different types of holidayers in the UK!” You exclaim as if it’s common knowledge that Lando should know and it’s almost appalling that he doesn’t.

“Okay and what are the four types, talk me through them” he grins placing his phone down on the sofa which would get lost in the next five seconds and he’d complain about later in when he couldn’t find it, before placing his full attention on you.

“Well there’s type one which is the UK Enjoyers where they go to different places in the UK on holiday, whether that be like … CenterParks or a Caravan down in Dorset and don’t own a passport and have never been or thought of going outside the UK” you explain and Lando nods, trying to keep himself from smiling too much but hearing you speak like this he can’t help it.

“Right okay, yeah I’ve never ever done that” he nods guessing he isn’t that type.

“Yeah that’s because you’re a rich kid holidayer!” You exclaim only for him to cock his eyebrow in amusement.

“Sorry?” He laughs asking while crossing his arms.

“Okay, so rich kid is like the kids I was always really really jealous of because they would go anywhere. Even if that means staying in New York’s finest hotel that is a room only room while paying for all your food while you are there! Or they go caving in Vietnam over winter break before going skiing in Finland after clubbing in Bali with Martin Garrixs” you prod at him, making him playing hit your shoulder knowing your were right.

“Okay okay, so I have some cool holidays! But what’s the issue with them! Why don’t you want to go on the rich kid holidays” he laughs.

“Because I’m an All Inclusive Holidayer” you say as if it’s obvious.

“Right! Of course of course” Lando laughs again before waiting for your explanation.

“I was brought up being used to all inclusive holidays in Greece, Italy, Spain, and then sometimes we’d get to go somewhere real far like the Caribbean. Beach holidays purely for relaxing. And your holidays don’t seem very relaxing… you’re always and I mean always doing something on them. And I don’t know how you can’t just relax” you chuckle explaining why you love your little beachy holidays so much.

“Okay okay. And the last one?” He asks.

“You have the Re-occurrers. They have their set destination and just keep going back because it’s the in budget comfortable choice. Like they keep going back to Disney World, or Mallorca or New York because they know it, don’t get bored by it and it’s the safe option” you smile having it all sussed out.

“Mmmm I think i would find that rather boring, wouldn’t you? There’s so many places but you stick to the same one?! Crazy” he joins in, in an almost teasing voice.

“I know right, like my parents when we would go on holiday, they’d never take me to the same place twice so that I could see as much of the world as possible!” You exclaim not realising he is in fact mocking you.

“So what, you want to do an all inclusive holiday?” He asks pulling back open your laptop and looking at some of the destinations you had in the search bars.

“We’ll maybe not just all inclusive but I would like to see you relax a little. You know loud around a pool in a hot country with a cocktail by my side and some beachy music to go along with it. But then maybe afterwards we can go do rich kid travelling for the rest of the summer break? If you aren’t needed in Monaco or Woking?” You ask, looking over his expression.

“Mmmmm so how about we book a nice 2 week all inclusive holiday. We come back to the UK. We see family and friends for a little bit while I get some work stuff done, and then we can do my type of holiday and invite Max and Pietra with us?” He asks, and you make a thinking face for a second before a big grin spreads on your face and you nod excitedly.

“I love that plan! Let’s start looking at the all inclusive first, I definitely think we should upgrade our tickets wherever we go. I know you’d struggle in economy” you poke at him and he nods, not because of the comfort side, even though he will never complain in first class or on Max’a private jet but it’s more for security reasons than anything.

“So I was thinking that maybe we could look at going …” you start but Lando gets lost halfway through distracted by the way you look right now. Excitedly talking to him about holiday destinations, a new sparkle in your eye at the prospect of some uninterrupted time with Lando.

He loved your more than anything and would do just about anything to have this look that you’ve got right now constantly on your face.

“Oooo look this one looks good! In the Maldives and look Lan there’s even a little slide going into the sea” you grin looking at the fancy and expensive looking hut in the middle of the sea.

“And look at this! Underwater dining, have you ever eaten with a shark above you?” You ask excitedly making Lando laugh and cuddle into you as you skim through the pictures to get a better look.

Eventually Lando tells you not to jump the gun on the first one you see and to continue you’re search.

“Or this one in Antigua, woah look at the beach! ITS MASSIVE” you say as you point at the white sandy beach.

“It’s nice but I think the bathroom looks a little small, I prefer the one in the Maldives for sure! Onto the next” he grins.

“Oh look at this, it’s beautiful” you say looking at the location where the palm trees hang over the Villa and the pool looks like it’s been built into the beach itself.

“Now I like this one! Where is this?” He asks clicking the pen.

“Wait when did you get a pen and pad” you ask looking at him.

“Well we need to write down the ones we like right?” He says pinching your side making your squeal in high delight that he’s helping and getting involved and from the sensation of his pinch.

You turn round fully, focus completely off your laptop and now into your loving and doting boyfriend.

“I love you so much” you say looking into his eyes, and a sigh of pure happiness escapes him as you guys hold into eye contact. You lean in after a while placing a soft kiss of his lips, gripping to the back of his neck, playing with the loose curls at the base.

“I love you too baby, now, where was that last destination. The quicker we choose somewhere the quicker we can get to bed” he winks and you shake your head laughing before sitting back in his lap leaning against him re-opening your laptop lid showing the last location that there was.

“It was Mozambique, I’d never have thought of going somewhere this beautiful when i was younger” you smile.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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aparttimewriter · 3 months ago

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THE SONGBIRD

part ii part iii part iv

chrismd x musician reader !

summary: chris is trying to move on from his breakup, little did he know he would find a connection with one of his roommates friends

social media au ✨

📍London, United Kingdom 🇬🇧

yourusername

liked by, arthurnfhill, taliamar, georgeclarkeey, mollymae and 678,456 others

tagged: arthurnfhill

yourusername: i’m back in london !!

view all 21,567 comments

mollymae: she’s back and serving looks

—yourusername: taking after my style icon x

user: can i say she’s an british icon even though she isn’t british ?!

user: y/n always looks so gorgeous

arthurnfhill: ordering a coffee instead of a tea is criminal

— yourusername: it’s a crime i gladly committed

user: she’s honestly so fit

georgeclarkeey: so this is why you canceled our movie date

arthurnfhill

liked by, chrismd, georgeclarkeey, yoursuername, arthurtv and 12,577 others

tagged: yourusername

arthurnfhill: super excited to announce that i will be opening for @yourusername while she’s preforming in the uk

view all 537 comments

yourusername: you all have my permission to boo arthur if he does the voldemort impression on stage

—arthurnhill: your my biggest hater

chrismd: so excited for you mate !!

user: my music and youtube world crossing over

georgeclarkeey: yesss man so huge for you !!

user: this is going to be so iconic

arthurtv: can’t wait for my free tickets !

—arthurnhill: for that comment you’re paying full price

user: about to spend my savings on getting these tickets

yourusername

liked by arthurhill, mollymae, taliamar, georgeclarkeey and 7356,213 others

tagged: georgeclarkeey arthurtv

yourusername: can someone explain the offside rule ??

view all 12,678 comments

georgeclarkeey: let me introduce you to my friend @chrismd10

—yourusername: is he good at football or something ??

user: dream girl material right here

user: feel like this is giving pick me vibes

arthurnhill: i think everyone deserves to know that she called it soccer multiple times 🤢

—yourusername: YOU PROMISED NO TO MENTION IT !

user: the third photo is giving such british vibes

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by chrismd10, georgeclarkeey, taliamar, arthurtv and 632,568 others

tagged: georgeclarkeey, arthrurtv, chrismd10

yourusername: many cocktails were consumed ( also i now understand the offside rule )

view all 8,567 comments

user: chrismd with the football rizz

georgeclarkeey: who are those two handsome devils in the second slide 🤭

—yourusername: some weirdos that wouldn’t leave me alone

user: how are these boys hanging out with a girl miles out of all their league

arthurhill: i invited you and have not one photo mention…rude

—yourusername: you should be more photogenic then

user: just give me one chance y/n

chrismd: still not forgiven for calling it soccer

— yourusername: 🥺

yourusername added to their story

an: hey guys !! i have been working on this idea for a while and i am so excited for this first part. if you would like to be on the tagged list for this series please drop a comment !

#chrismd #chrismd x reader #chrismd imagine #george clarkey #arthur hill #arthur tv #british youtubers

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luveline · 4 months ago

Note

jade!! i saw you were willing to add emily to your 46 fics and i have a request!! i think about your emily x single mom!reader everyday and i was wondering if you’d write more in that universe? maybe emily has to drop readers kid off at their first day of pre-k or preschool (i have no clue what you call it in the uk) because reader has a work emergency or something??

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.1k

“It’ll be fun,” Emily says.

Jane is looking at Emily like she’s grown a second head. “No.”

Emily tries again. Swallows her nerves, and readjusts herself where she’s on her knees. “Mommy was gonna drop you off herself, but it's her very first day back at work and they needed her super early, so it’s me. But mom will be the one who picks you up again.”

Jane just squints.

“I have to go to work, too,” Emily says.

“I’m com’n with you,” Jane says, nodding.

Emily looks behind Jane at the baby gated corral of little kids. It’s possibly the worst adjustment in the world for your work to decide the day-of that you’d have to go early. You didn’t have time to prepare Jane for her own first day, and Emily isn’t good at this bit yet.

“No,” Emily says, holding Jane by both arms, “I have to go work too, and it’s too boring for you. You’re gonna have way more fun here meeting your new friends.”

Jane had already met one of the daycare workers, incidentally called Janet, a few days ago to try and ease the new phase of her life, but it’s a common fact that the majority of kids cry on their first day here. Why wouldn’t she? Jane has spent the majority of her growing life with you. This is a horrible adjustment, but better she does it now.

Emily’s just waiting for tears.

“Em-wy…”

“It’ll be fun, okay? There’s so much to do! Colouring, painting, dancing, nap time. They’ll make you lunch, and your new friends will have games to play–” She strokes Jane’s arm. “Sound fun?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll miss you…” Jane mumbles, her eyes finally growing shiny.

Emily’s honestly not expecting it. “Well, I’ll miss you more. But mommy will pick you up soon,” —you aren’t working the full day— “and you’ll see me at dinner time, okie dokie?”

“I’m not…” Jane looks lost for what to say. She’s very, very little. Emily isn’t surprised.

“I know it’s different, but it’s not bad.” Emily tilts her head to the side, giving Jane her gentlest smile. She’s learned all her motherly tricks from you. It’s easy to fall into that tone of voice, that same affection, because Emily adores Jane.

“Em-wy,” Jane mumbles again.

“Janie,” she says, copying Jane’s warbling voice. “Baby, I swear it will be great, and then mommy will pick you up and I will buy you whatever big girl dinner you want. We could have McDonald’s.”

She whispers the last part.

Jane smiles slowly. “Okie dokie.”

Emily should’ve guessed that Jane wouldn’t cry. She’s a funny little kid, quiet and sweet and a teeny bit slow to understand. Perhaps she’ll cry once Emily’s already gone.

“Okay. Do you want a cuddle before I leave?”

Jane nods, tucking her face into Emily’s front. Emily wraps her arms around her and breathes in the smell of the lavender conditioner you’d run through her hair last night. “Love you, babe,” Emily whispers.

“Love you too.”

—

Emily thankfully gets home. Hotch laughs at her eagerness to not work, remarking that somehow you’d made a family of a woman determined not to be tied down. He had a point —Emily didn’t realise she wanted a wife until she met you. Didn’t realise she wanted a daughter until she met Jane, though she’s had her whims and whiles about it.

This is real.

You hear the door and hurry to it. Emily’s barely out of her shoes when you find her, in your smart clothes yourself, a chocolate smudge on your cheek.

“Where’s the fire?” Emily asks.

“Thank you for this morning,” you say, taking her hands.

Emily softens as you rub her fingers. “You’re welcome. Did she– was she okay? She looked extremely worried for a baby.”

“She’s not a baby.” You lean forward and to one side, just touching her. “Emily, you– I was so worried, I thought she’d take it hard but you really pulled a magic trick. She didn’t even cry when I picked her up. When I asked how her day was, she told me you promised it would be fun… and that you were going to get her McDonald’s.”

“I will get her McDonald’s.”

You take a swift, soft kiss. “My hero. She told me she missed me, but guess who she mentioned first?”

Emily raises her eyebrows.

“Mm-hm,” you hum, pulling her to the kitchen. “Em-wy, of course.”

Emily squeezes your hand as you both enter the kitchen to find the source of your kissed cheek. Jane sits at the table in lavender pyjamas to match the smell of her hair. She’s eating chocolate covered strawberries and celery with peanut butter, spread on her hands and lips, but less on her cheeks than her mom.

“Baby, look! Guess who’s home?”

Jane finds Emily with her gaze and gasps happily, clapping, a strawberry falling in the gap of her chest and table. “You’re back!”

“I’m back! You’re home, too! Did you have fun?”

There’s a suspicion in Jane’s expression that she’s too young for, as though she’s guessed this whole daycare business is permanent, but she shrugs it off. “I miss you,” she says.

“I’m back,” Emily reminds her. “I can see where mommy got her kiss from, that looks yummy.”

You wipe your cheeks with two palms and bring them down to find chocolate melted against your fingers. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I had plans to help you eventually.” Emily rounds the table and chair to tip Jane’s head back gently, looking her over. “You okay? Did you have a good day?”

“Good day,” she echoes.

“You’re happy?” Emily asks.

She’d realised how nervous she was for your girl the second she left the daycare building. What if Jane hates it, and she cries the whole day and makes her eyes sore? Emily hadn’t enjoyed thinking about it, deciding she’d get her more than McDonald’s.

“I’m glad you had a good day,” Emily says.

“I fed Sergio!” Jane tells her.

Sir-joe must be a pretty happy cat. “Thank you, babe, you’re the bestest.”

You aren’t jealous but eager as you slide into Emily’s side and under her arm. You smile as you rest your face on her shoulder, a little cat-like yourself as your breathing evens. “She saved the day.”

Jane looks up at you both, but her eyes meet Emily’s as she smiles. “Missed you, mommy,” she says.

Emily’s heart skips a beat, wondering, just for a moment, if Jane was talking to her. Emily wouldn’t mind it. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

You nab a strawberry from Jane’s plate. Emily’s expecting it, but she’s still too happy to talk as you kiss her cheek. “Got you back.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss oneshot #emily prentiss scenario #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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sofs16 · 1 year ago

Text

clearly

pair lando norris x singer!reader

note if you guys want to decorate my tree with a little note, I’d appreciate it:,)

tree!

++ dont be a silent reader pls hehe

ln4updates

liked by 10, 475 others

ln4updates Lando goes live on twitch again and mentions his longtime crush, yn. (she’s a** — i got the subtitles wrong)

view all 261 comments

ynslover F1 and yn?!? 😭😭😭

norrizznutsz THE BUTTON UP O HTMGOFD

user73 if i was yn, i’d be dead. lando.jpg yn

⤷ ln4updates mans has no shame 😭

landonorris

tagged: yn liked by yn, and 7,373,383 others

landonoriss that’s a wrapppppp 😁

view all 263,383 comments

user33 the thirst trap right before the yn tagged slide 😭😭😭

yn congrats, lando 🧡🤍

⤷ landonorris thankyou so much! your music was my wakeup music

[ COMMENT DELETED ! ] ⤷ landonorris thank you so much, yn! your music was always blasting at the mclaren garage 🫡

⤷ yn awwww thank you AHAHAHA hope to meet you some time! ⤷ landonorris See you at your UK show :)

⤷ yn omg what!!!! see you soon!!!

⤷ carlossainz55 DMS exist

[(carlossainz55) landonorris: DELETE THAT CARLOS STOP SHUTUTP STOP]

[ COMMENT DELETED ! ]

⤷ yn AHAHAH, come in them then 😝

(LANDONORRIS) yn just followed you back!

[ (landonorris) carlossainz55: You’re welcome]

uk, manchester

liked by landonorris, and 12,462,299 others

yn cop or drop???

view all 1,484,484 comments

landonorris cop 👮‍♀️

⤷ yn thought dms existed?? :)

⤷ user4 oh ITS HAPPENING. user44 lando thinks he’s real slick with commenting ‘cop’ 4 seconds after this was posted 😭

ynspeed yn’s response to lando’s thirst trap:

⤷ yn landonorris isn’t the only one who can do that

⤷ user2 i bet lando is dying rn

manchester, uk

liked by landonorris, and 9,284,019 others

yn and that’s the end of the silence between songs tour 😵‍💫😵‍💫manchester, you are something else 🧡 i’m glad it was you closing this magical tour! thank you, thank you, thank you!

view all 463,585 comments

user3 the orange heart???? something is a little 🐟hy around here…

⤷ user4 I CANT WITH THE FISH EMOJI😭

ln4updddts WHERE’S OUR YNLANDO CONTENT!!

lando.jpg

liked by yn, and 3,586,203 others

lando.jpg I woke up happy, watched the sun rise. I wonder why

view all 219,456 comments

yn the I Wonder caption 🥹🥹🥹

⤷ lando.jpg Too good of an opportunity to not use it

yn i adore you

⤷ lando.jpg i adore YOU! ⤷ lnrizzyn theyre actually my parents. ⤷ ynsloverr lnrizzyn THE LAST SLIDE!!!!!

user39 THE FLOWERS!!! YNS FAV ARE TULIPS 🥹

ynsource

liked by landonorris, and 15,490 others

ynsource yn coming out backstage with her favorite tulips in hand! rumored to be given by landonorris

view all 95 comments

user484 HELLO???

ynsource

liked by landonorris, and 13,586 others

ynsource yn goes live on twitch again and mentions lando norris! view all 382 comments

uppyn landonorris are you okay? user37 YNLANDO NATION RISE!!!

landoyn4

liked by landonorris, and 21,927 others

landoyn4 LANDO NORRIS WHEN I CATCH YOU. HER WAITING FOR THE DM😭😭😭😭😭 HER SEEING OUT POSTS 😭😭😭

view all 918 comments

lllmclerc Lando liking the posts 😭

(99+) INSTAGRAM MESSAGES 𐙚˙✧˖°

— december 9, 2023

Lando Norris

i am sooooo sorry for not messaging sooner. i pussied out and thought you were joking about it:( please forgive me please

yn 🫧🤍

hi landooo! don’t worry about it:) sorry if i outed you online, i kind of pussied out as well to message you 😭 you just seemed interested so i didn’t know what to think after you came to the uk show last week with those flowers and you ghosted me

Lando Norris

No i feel even worse now. I really did want to hang out or go out with you (whichever you prefer) but, again, i pussied out… think we could have a redo?

and about the online thing, it’s totally alright, nothing they didn’t already know anyways 🤗

yn 🫧🤍

it’s alright and i would love to go out with you :)) what’s important is we were able to talk in our most random way possible 👍🏻

Lando Norris

do you mind if i get your number?

yn 🫧🤍

not at all! it’s xx-xxx- xxx

liked by landonorris, and 15,976,019 others

yn sorry i haven’t been active :) i’ve been happier than ever

view all 2,811,092 comments

landonorris nice heart

⤷ yn thanks! ynlando 😵‍💫👀

landonorris

liked by yn, and 8,923,019 others

landonorris snow days ☃️

view all 3,869,028 comments

yn hey, nice heart! ⤷ landonorris your snow heart is better ☹️

ynlannn …

ynlannn HELLO?????? LANDO CAMCORDER -> POST OF YN FROM A CAMCORDER. THE HEART SNOW -> YN WITH HEART SNOW. THE COMMENTS. THE BOYFRIEND EFFECT IN THE 4TH PIC. SO MUCH TO UNFOLD AFTER 3 WEEKS OF SILENCE.

ynsource

liked by ln4, and 17,383 others

ynsource photos taken of yn by the paps this week! view all 1,982 comments

lnyln we’re all thinking the same thing, aren’t we..

⤷ynsource ynlando real and they’re on a ski trip🥹

landonorris and yn

liked by 19,294,064 others

landonorris and yn Lando is the photographer in the relationship, clearly. - yn 🧡

y/n/n is clearly the better looking one in the relationship, clearly - lando 🤍

view all 5,797,019 comments

yn hey! that last part isnt true ☹️

⤷ landonorris yes it is

⤷ yn thats a lie

⤷ landonorris you’re like the most beautiful person in this universe. what are you on

⤷ carlossainz55 Not even three months and disgusting in the comments already 😝

⤷ landonorris shhh dad

user4 THEYRS SOOOO🥹😝

ynslove i bet that first clip is yn for her 2nd leg of the tour 😵‍💫😵‍💫

user73 y/n/n?? she said she doesn’t like being called that except for her future partner UGHHHHDHAJAALALA

mclaren 🧡🧡🧡

#SOF : anotha lando fic!! bump on the tree 🤗

happy holidays! 🤍🤍

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #landonorris #lando 4 #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando imagine #lando smau #lando norris smau #formula 1

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reiwanwan · 1 month ago

Text

To my sweetheart, Happy holidays.

John Shelby x Wife! reader

a/n: This was rushed and not proofread, because I had the idea in my head and knew that I had to write it immediately before the idea would be lost. So apologies if there are mistakes in the grammar or spelling. Also I’ve never wrote for John before so I really wanted to try and I wanted to write something for the holidays , hope you like it! xx

“Goodnight my stars, thank you for being such wonderful older siblings yea? Close your eyes, mommy loves you both, always” Your two older children had been helping you at home with two of your younger children throughout the day, even putting them to sleep, while you dealt with the other remaining three all day while your husband, John Shelby was back at Small Heath to help out at the Garrison. You smoothed down their hairs and kissed their foreheads and turned your heel to slowly close the door behind you and walked back to your bedroom.

Many hours go by and you still couldn’t sleep, but this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. You could only ever sleep peacefully when John was next to you, his body warmth against your cold skin, and his hands that always grabbed your body just because he liked to hold onto the softness of your curves. So instead, you went downstairs to sit on the couch in the living room, legs sprawled out and head resting on the cushion. Looking at the calendar across from your peripheral vision, you saw the date— 23rd December. Both you and John had planned to have a Christmas party, inviting all your friends and family, hoping that this would give a chance for your children to be able to meet their uncles, aunts, and their cousins which they had not seen in a very long time.

Staring at the ceiling fan, you started imagining what the party would be like on that special day. John would make a toast to his family, Arthur would get drunk and possibly black out on your porch, your children would be running around with their cousins in the backyard, and you would be having a lovely chat with Ada, Lizzie and Polly with wine and cigarettes in hand. Your lips pulled into a smile as you continued to daydream, and your eyelids slowly growing heavier at every second of it.

Your chest rises up and down at a slow and steady pace and your snores filled the living room. and you were blissfully unaware of the hand that was brushing your hair and tucking it to the back of your ears. Your eyes slowly open and your vision, still hazy but through all the haze, you knew who was waiting for you when everything would be all clear. Your man, John Shelby. He continued stroking your hair and placed a soft kiss on your forehead and in return, you gave him a warm and gentle smile. The sight of you— just woken up and groggy but still glowing nonetheless. As his hands cupped your face, his right thumb brushing your cheek while his left thumb wiped away the drool that had slid down your chin.

“I’m home sweetheart, sorry to keep you waitin for so long” John says as he sat on the couch with you but readjusted your body, laying your head on his lap, facing up so that he could look down at you. “No s’alright, I’m sure it must be hard delivering all the presents to families in the UK, isn’t that right Father Christmas?” You teased. He scoffs, “That’s right, it’s been tough on me…but I still managed to deliver em all, I’m bloody amazing aren’t I? and now, for being such a good girl, you’re gonna get your present early…cmere you”, He says as he leans down towards you and pulls you in for a kiss, your hands reached for his face, and your fingers lovingly combed through his brown hair. He cradled the back of your head while his other hand supports the small of your back.

When you both pulled away, you saw that boyish grin on his face, the same one you fell in love with when you were younger. Oh how you absolutely loved and adored his irresistible playful smile and immature personality, even though it often only ever brought you headaches because it made you feel that you had eight children instead of seven. “Hope you like your gift, love”. You sat up and placed your hands on his chest and gave him a tiny peck on his lips, placing your foreheads against each other. “Of course I did, it was actually one of the best gifts I’ve ever received in my whole life”.

The both of you stayed like that for a moment. Forehead still pressed against one another, his hands now rubbing on your back and on your thigh. Suddenly, he lifts you up bridal style, you let out a soft gasp to not wake your children. “John!” you cried out, giggling like a school girl as you kicked your legs. He carried you to your bedroom and gently tosses you onto the mattress and locks the door behind him. You barely get a moment to react when he tackles you and litters you with kisses on your neck, leaving you squealing and laughing at his antics. His body hovers above you as he looks at you with those big blue eyes, leaning to give your lips one last kiss, “Happy holidays sweetheart, I love you, always”.

@weepingdreammarvel @tomhardystories @vivianleighwishesshewasme

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder drabble #peaky blinders x you #John shelby #john shelby heacanon #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #joe cole #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby x y/n #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #happy holidays

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