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marigoldenblooms · 1 year ago

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That's a Wrap - One Shot

Pairing: Director!Natasha x Fem!Actor!Reader x Actor!Wanda (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Summary: You and Wanda can’t seem to get this scene right. With your director’s help, you manage.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Is Y/N in the room with us right now (They aren’t), Dom!Natasha, Switch!Wanda, Bottom!Reader. Dub-con, power dynamic (Director/Actor), voyeurism, degradation, praise, semi-public sex, semi-orgasm denial, light edging, objectification, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), strap-on use(R receiving), some pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, ma’am, Tasha(For N), Wan/Wands(For W), Mommy(For W, used loosely)), Nat calls her strap her dick, semi-previous established relationship? Porn with plot, clothed sex, sextape, light aftercare, fluff at the end.

A/N: Welcome to the first issue of Smut Saturdays! Want to really create some good shit in this genre, so I'm posting at least one spicy fic every Saturday (if I can help it)! This came to me in a vision (called the five minutes before my math class)- After my last smut fic did well (An Important Lesson, Prof!Wanda x Reader, which you can read here), I thought I’d do some WandaNat practice! Not proofread, written in the span of an evening. This is a crime against intimacy coordinators, I’m so sorry. Asides over. Natasha wears a strap to her films and she can dick me down with it, please and thank you!

Word Count: 2.4k - Read Length: 8 minutes, 49 seconds.

~~~

It was never fun when the producers came by.

They’d always arrive in droves of two or three, never the top dog- as if Natasha’s ‘avant-garde chick flick’, as they called it, wasn’t worth their time. They certainly treated it as much. Today was the worst day for them to arrive, in pressed jackets and always on a phone call, because today you were filming the sex scene. It was more of a ‘romance’ scene, with alluring cinematography and enough passion to make your eyes fall out, yet you hadn’t even gotten to remove any clothes from your beautiful costar- Wanda. You knew she was incredible, her previous films as a fem fatale showing her dominant streak, however the spark couldn’t burn when interruptions from the suits kept happening. You weren’t on a porn set, and yet sometimes you wish you were. Might’ve been faster, or at least more fun.

“From the top,” A groveled voice muttered, Natasha’s steely gaze breaking into your skull- though a part of you wished she’d break your back. The redhead had always been an inspiration, one of the leading reasons for your participation in her project, besides her being so fine. But now, she looked pissed, worn down by hours of appeasing the producer’s half-baked suggestions and guarding you and Wanda from their prying eyes. “Yes Ma’am,” you replied, earning a slight chuckle from your director, the twinkle in her eye not lost on you- she was on her last legs, but it was yours and Wanda’s compliance that kept her going.

You’d return to your blocking, centered in the middle of your ‘apartment bedroom’, with Wanda’s hand placed gently on your waist. Your roles were lovers, reuniting after a long day of hardship, slowing down after it all. You’d stare up at her, the mild exasperation in your expression making her smile. She’d send a wink down to you, muttering something about being ‘bored too’, but ‘not hating kissing you again’, or the like. She’d invited you out to coffee tonight, and especially after a day like this, you’d take it. Perhaps you’d even forget the paparazzi and really kiss her as you’d been wanting to do this whole shoot. Throw a bone to the fanfiction writers and make their canon comply with reality. Maybe. It was Natasha’s words which startled you from your thoughts, a look of tenderness overcoming your face as you’d sink into your character, “Action!”

Within an instant, Wanda hiked her hands under the hem of your shirt, eyes darting down to your face. Her palms were warm against you, smooth against your soft skin, as your head rested gently on her shoulder. She’d tug at the fabric- and you’d send her a quick nod, smiling as you’d lean up to capture her lips in yours-

“Well that’s not very marketable!” A producer would crow, scoffing with both his hands outstretched towards the two of you. You’d freeze, feeling all of the passion drain out from the scene, no more than a shell of itself. His bald head wasn’t very marketable, looking like a morally dubious Mr. Clean- and yet you didn’t comment on it. He’d look at Natasha, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose with a stern sigh, and you gulped. Oh, shit. She was going to lose it. “Can’t you get their clothes off faster? Our focus groups won’t wait around for-”

“Fucking Christ, get- out!” Natasha shouted, a growl in her tone bringing heat to your face. She scowled, roaring to the surrounding suits, “Leave, get off my set- it’s my fucking turn to direct them.” Her hands would fan away their deer-in-headlights looks, ushering them out before locking the door. Her fiery gaze would bore into you then, jaw locked as her heels would click towards you and Wanda, many feet apart.

The two shared a knowing nod- And before you could speak, your director grabbed Wanda by her shirt collar and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Your jaw would drop as the brunette’s eyes widened, fluttering shut as Wanda moaned into the embrace- Natasha’s hands planted firmly on her tits. She’d squeeze them, earning a gasp from Wanda, your costar’s head swung back as Natasha swiped her thumbs across her nipples. Your director’s gaze would strike yours, and you understood why Wanda’s submission was so quick. You shuddered at the redhead’s gleaming smirk, her voice a husked whisper, “Get those clothes off and get on the bed for me, baby. Now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply was instant, Natasha’s grin only widening as you’d shed your layers, kneeling on the mattress’s soft sheets. They were cold, goosebumps settling up your spine yet you wouldn’t move, eyes trained obediently on Natasha. You were so perfect for her.

Natasha’s mouth would return to Wanda’s, pressing her into the faux wall that had outlined the bedroom. Her hand would splay against Wanda’s stomach, and you saw how she hiked up the shirt there, continuing to palm her tits while unclasping Wanda’s bra with the other. She’d pepper kisses across the brunette’s neck, sucking hickeys the lower she’d go.

They’d part only so Wanda’s top could come completely off, your director keeping a claiming touch on Wanda’s hip as she’d look back at you over her shoulder. Her hair was wild, mused from Wanda’s hands slung loosely around her shoulders while her expression remained flushed, dark eyes darting down to the slick that pooled between your legs. Wanda’s voice would ring to you, almost reverent as her hips would stutter against Natasha’s, “She’s fucking drooling for us, Tasha..”

The redhead would bite back a smirk as she’d watch you twitch. You ached to touch them, yourself, anything- your hands already balled into fists on your thighs, legs rubbing together, desperate for friction. But neither had given the command, and you had an inkling from their hungry looks that they wanted you needy, right where they had you. Natasha’s rasp came second, “Then show her what I taught you.”

Wanda would reach you first, discarding the rest of her clothes in the process. Her hands trailed warm touches up your legs and to your chest, digging into your soft flesh as her lips would meet yours. It was explosive, sweet and tender yet with a ferocity that claimed you quickly, heating up your skin as her knee would slot between your thighs. You’d feel Natasha’s calloused fingers on the small of your back, the sinking of her weight in the mattress behind you, and her tone husked in your ear, “Stretch her out for me, Wan- like we practiced.” Your director’s words sent a buzz to your core, cunt grinding mercilessly into the sheets below as Wanda’s hand would trail there, dragging two fingers along your folds before arcing dazzling circles around your clit.

You’d eagerly press your hips into her touch, moaning lowly as she’d chuckle, “So wet for me, sweetheart…bet I can just slip right in.” She’d coax her fingers inside, your pussy walls taking her gladly as Wanda curled her digits against that spongy spot. Your back would arch, head growing fuzzy as you’d feel your slick drip down her hand. Her thumb would press into your clit as you’d buck your hips against her, cursing a quick “Fuck-” which was quickly swallowed up by Wanda’s mouth. She’d bite your lip, dragging it with her teeth as she’d settle into her rhythm, spare hand palming your tits with a rougher grasp, “Been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart- pretty whore, just for us.”

“Mhm, good girl just wants to be fucked, don’t you?” Natasha would grit, and you could see her stroking something behind your back. She’d unzipped her slacks- her strap heavy in her hand, glistening with the spit she’d gathered in her palm. Natasha bucked her hips against her hold, cursing as the cock’s base would rub against her clit. She looked incredible, sweat across her brow as her hand would clench around the toy, like she could feel it. “Keep going, Wands- want her perfect for my dick.”

Natasha would pant, breathing ragged as her hand moved in time with Wanda’s fingers- curling into you almost torturously, feeling your cunt clench around her. The brunette’s kiss would claim you again, moaning into her warmth as her thumb would circle your clit. She’d sigh almost lovingly, fondness overtaking her expression as your head found the crook of her neck, “She’s already perfect, Tasha-” She’d coo, although her hand wouldn’t stop, gasping at the squelching sound of her fingers up your cunt, “This pussy was made for us, darling.”

Their words and touch brought you so close, yet Wanda’s hands slowed down when she felt your legs quiver or your breathing seize up, never giving you what you needed. You’d squirm against Wanda, begging for more, a lingering touch, anything- “Please, Wan- I‘m so close,” You whined, earning a tut from your costar. She’d devour your pleas, lost to time as her mouth would reach yours, softer than before. You felt her sympathetic smile against you as she’d shake her head, locking eyes with Natasha’s heavy stare, “Not yet, sweetheart..It’s not my turn anymore.”

The redhead groaned when Wanda slid her fingers out of you, her fingers shimmering with your arousal. Your walls fluttered around nothing, aching for anyone’s touch as you felt Natasha’s rugged grasp on your hips, pulling you up and back so your pelvis was against hers. The strap had warmed in her hand, dragging between your legs. You were dripping for her, soft sparks of pleasure seizing you as her tip would brush against your clit. Her voice would thunder through you, almost delirious with her own need, “Fucking finally..want this pussy all to myself…”

Wanda would chuckle at that, your director kneading at your hips as Wanda’s thighs settled in front of your mouth, your arms propping yourself just above her soaked cunt. “We promised to share, Tasha..” She’d croon, face flushed and touch softer than Natasha’s as she’d cradle your face in her palms, “Such a pretty girl..are you ready for your reward, darling?” You nodded, a flurry of sensation hitting you all at once- Natasha’s strap sinking into you as the redhead would push your shoulder blades down, pressing your face between Wanda’s legs.

The stretch was incredible, the woman behind you vicious as she’d drive her dick into you, bottoming out as your mouth would be smothered against Wanda’s cunt. Each thrust would drive Wanda crazy, your gasps and whimpers vibrating right into her core, especially as you’d flat your tongue against her clit, suckling on the sensitive nub. Her thighs would threaten to shut on you, her stretched words lost in your pussydrunk haze, “Yes, like that sweetheart- such a good girl..-” Natasha would rock her hips into yours, pace bruising as she’d pull your thighs flush to hers. You’d hear her muffled curses as she’d bottom out again, sighing as if she could feel you clench around her. “Baby..fuck, so perfect for us…” Wanda’s hands would thread into your hair, anchoring her hold on you as she’d press your face further into her cunt.

The sight would echo a curse from Natasha’s mouth, her hips growing a little more erratic, “Fucking christ, she’s our perfect little whore, aren’t you baby-” You’d try to nod, moaning as Natasha’s hand would press further into your back, keeping you from moving an inch, “Don’t even think, baby- just fucking take it, fuck-”

Time would seem to slow, your brain fuzzing into blissful static as you’d feel Wanda’s thighs tremor around your head, her grip tightening as she’d see your body tremble in Natasha’s touch. “Come with me, sweetheart- be a good girl and come for Mommy.” Her saccharine words spurred you into a blinding release, your tongue working Wanda through her orgasm as your body quaked with your own. You’d feel Natasha follow shortly thereafter, cursing aloud as she’d pull herself out of you, watching as you’d clench around nothing. Her hands would immediately find your waist, bringing you gently up to kneel with your back against her clothed front.

Panting, your arms would shake as you’d catch your breath, leaning up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel both women’s eyes on you as you’d suckle on your fingers, cleaning up with an exaggerated moan, looking towards Wanda as you’d pop your hand out of your mouth, your words almost dreamy, “Mmm, so good, Wan..” You’d giggle as Wanda’s face would alight in blush, although the clink of metal and fabric drove you away from your teasing.

Natasha’s hands would be rushed as she’d pull her pants and harness down, eyes heavy with a lust that made you shudder, “Switch with me, Wands-” She’d grit, thrusting the strap in her general direction before settling calloused palms on your still quivering thighs, her gaze boring into yours, “It’s my turn for her mouth.”

Wanda’s smirk was immediate, sending you another sly wink, “Gladly.”

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

Unbeknownst to the three of you, the cameras had never stopped rolling. That film would never be seen by the public, kept hidden once you left the building. Not to say it couldn't be enjoyed by you three, though.

Natasha and Wanda took you out to coffee afterwards as the brunette had promised. They explained their prior agreement to ‘test the waters’ with you, Wanda working with Natasha on a plan to woo you both in and out of character. The date went well, although with much less lingering glances and more almost-fucking in the back of Wanda’s car afterwards. It was there that the public and paparazzi learned of your relationship, although their camera flash thankfully stopped any romance before it got good. You weren’t on a porn set, after all- and Wanda kept your half-nude form hidden while Natasha cursed out the press. All in a day’s work.

Unfortunately, the day’s work began anew the next day. Filming the romance scene was no difficult measure now, but Natasha’s grin and Wanda’s wandering hands blurred the lines of professionalism. The film crew couldn’t care less, a few of them- such as Kate, a script supervisor- mentioned how they knew it would happen eventually (and won a bet with Peter, who said it’d take until the award show for you three to get together).

However, once you three escaped into Natasha’s office for some ‘paperwork’ as she’d called it, it didn’t matter. They were yours, and that was enough. ~~~

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hxrtnett · 24 days ago

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we're hanging on by threads — dr. rabinovitch

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ in which the aftermath of the pittfest tragedy brings you and robby back together for few hours

warning/contains. swearing, blood mention, death mention, anxiety, arguing. literally anything that occurs in the pitt. age gap between reader and robby (10 years), ex lovers, angst

pairing. dr rabinovitch x fem!reader

oh, gemini by role model works with the angst of this :)

part two (soon!)

today out of all the days was the one where robby missed you the most. he missed waking up beside you to your smile, groan, or gentle greeting. he remembered the way your eyes crinkled in a smile and the comfort your face brought him, without you on a day he lost someone close to him, it took a toll on him. the nearly fifty year old knew how to take care of himself, but you were his rock, without you he felt out of place.

you, on the other hand, walked through the parking lot with a heavy heart. you knew what today was, you felt sad for robby, but he cut you out. you listened to your car beep as it was fully locked, and you made your way to the pediatrics wing. as you turned the corner of the lot, you were blinded by headlights, instinctively you lowered your head to avoid it. the car passed and you looked behind you, making you sigh, robby’s car.

he watched you lower your head, in your purple scrubs and doctor's jacket slung over your arm. in a split second, he could see the new changes to your hair. he refocused on the road, parking and sitting in his car. it took everything in him to not chase you down. from what he heard from dana and jake, you had a new boyfriend anyway. in the span of a year of being split, you moved on. it was a reasonable amount of time, he was the one moping around.

you walked into the facility with a smile, you smiled at the kids you passed, and entered the office area. “morning.” you greeted your crew, putting your stuff in your locker and putting on your jacket and ID. you went over today’s patients, ones who were checked in and out over the night shift. today wasn’t easy, it never was, but it was going to be a bit calmer than what you knew you’d face downstairs. you sometimes helped in the pitt, you knew robby hated it, or at least you believed he hated it. you only helped when you were needed, as you were qualified to work in a normal hospital setting, or the emergency room. you originally trained and worked in the pitt, but after six years, your stress started to mess with your heart and made you grow grey quicker- everyone told you to step back. so, you moved up to the pediatrics unit, dana encouraged it since you studied for it. you spent the next nine years working there. you didn’t start dating robby until 2019, you were there for everything.

it was steady, even through the chaos of the pandemic, you guys were good.

but when he lost adamson, that’s when everything started to change. that’s when the relationship started fraying. you both were hanging on by threads, it was like he let go on his end, and you were struggling to keep holding on.

and as the world started to get back to normal, you thought you both would too, but you were wrong. there were nights when you two sat on the couch after your late shifts, silence between you two as he stared at the tv and you stared at him over your book. or he’d start picking up shifts on the weekends he was supposed to be off, leaving you to be alone in the house. he had you move in once the pandemic hit hard, now it felt like you were a burden in the home that was supposed to be your future home, or you believed it would be due to the ring on your finger.

you couldn’t help but wonder if he was still in love. if you mattered to him, if the ring was just a false promise. you never brought it up, you never had time to. you were working, he was always working. the weekends you spent alone consisted of you going to the gym with coworkers, taking up yoga, taking jake out on the plans you three made, and touring apartments.

robby didn’t realize you bought an apartment until he noticed less and less of your belongings in the house. how did he notice? you couldn’t even come up with an idea, you were shocked he did. you two argued frequently before you finalized the deal on your place, the last argument you guys had made you leave. it was another saturday, robby was getting ready for work, you asked for him to call off.

“seriously y/n i’m making money for our wedding, let me go work.” he lied, making you get out of the bed and stand in the doorway of the connected bathroom, just looking at him. “our wedding? really? you haven’t been here to help me plan it. all we’ve done together is choose a day and venue.” you said, watching him brush his teeth. “one day with you is all i ask, it’s been months now of you constantly working, and when you don’t work, i am.” you spoke, your heart heavy. “maybe it’s for a reason.” he said, spitting the last of his toothpaste and wiping his mouth. your heart nearly shattered, “what is going on with you? did something recent happen? did i do something?” you asked, watching him as he walked past you. “micheal.” you tried again, getting silence.

“is it adamson?” you asked, breaking the final nerve in robby’s body.

looking back at this, he regretted it deeply, he didn’t know what took over him. he wished this never happened.

“everything is adamson these days, maybe i just want to work and be alone.” robby stated, looking at you. “it’s not fucking adamson, why would it be?” he asked, snapping. you were taken aback, frustrated now, “you take his passing anniversary off every year. you’re more quiet and stressed now. you don’t talk to me, you bail on jake and i. you’re not here! we got engaged months ago and suddenly you’re not here!” you stated, looking at him. “what if i don’t want to be here? with you? with this situation?” he questioned, “situation? are you referring to us as a situation?” you asked. his silence and stare answered you, his frustration over losing adamson, the guilt of it washed over him. if he wasn’t working in the emergency room, he was afraid he’d lose everyone else. he couldn’t be home with you, seeing the way you looked at him like he was glass. he felt so vulnerable, he wasn’t used to the overbearing care, so he fled. “it’s too much. i can’t be here while you look at me like i’m going to break.” he stated, turning back to his bag.

“i’m just worried micheal i want to be here for you-” “i don’t want you here! has that not clicked in your mind yet?!” he snapped. he watched you internally break but build yourself back up, guarding yourself. “i see.” was all you could muster, you nodded and walked past him. he continued packing his work bag but watched you, the annoyance didn’t fade, seeing you walk out into the living room. robby finished packing and walked to the kitchen, grabbing his lunch box and leaving. he didn’t hear the usual “i love you” which chipped a bit of his annoyance away, “i’ll see you later.” he called out to silence, then left.

he returned home later that night, wondering why your car wasn’t in the driveway. he entered the house and called your name, walking into the room to see your nightstand bare. dread hit him then, he walked to the bathroom, kitchen, living room, back to the shared closet. this time, there was nothing in the house that was yours. he returned to the kitchen with a pounding heart, spotting the house key and ring on the counter. there was no note, no goodbye, nothing. he called you, you never picked up, he texted you but they never went through.

he tried talking to you when you helped in the pitt.

“y/n please just let me talk-” “dr. rabinovitch i have a patient needing a chest tube, get out of my way.”

you planned on working at the pitt tonight, knowing robby wasn’t, but seeing his car turned your ideas around. you couldn’t, especially today, the fourth year without adamson. so instead, you worked as much as you could in your wing. you had three codes, several operations, and four discharges. you lost a kid, helped many, and had more come in from the pitt. your breaks were short, you were on the go all day.

but, this was your job, you loved helping families and kids, this is what you signed up for.

the shift moved quickly, and it was cut short when the news flooded through and any doctor possible was needed in the pitt. out of the several doctors in pediatrics, you and two others were turned to as you all trained in it.

so here you were, walking downstairs to meet dana who asked for you specifically. “angel, thank you for coming down.” she hugged you tight, using the nickname everyone in the pitt referred to you with in unprofessional moments. you were named “the angel” for coming down frequently and taking some night hours to help, dr abbott coined it first, dana ran with it. “this is the norm, today just happens to be a shitty reason. your face? are you okay?” you asked, checking her out. “some asshole, today’s my last day.” she whispered the last part, your eyes widened and she waved you off, “we’ll catch up over coffee, my time is over here.” she spoke, handing you a gown. “i think you need to talk to robby.” she started. “dana for the last time-” “jake was there, we haven’t heard from him. that’s your kid as much as it is micheal’s and neither of you are jake’s biological parents. talk to micheal, for the love of god, just tonight.” dana stated.

fear came over you, you walked to robby and felt your peers’ eyes. you grabbed his arm and pulled him to where nobody could overhear unless they tried. “dana said jake was there, do you want me to call? does his mom know?” you haven’t said this many words to him since you left. “she knows, please try and get to him.” robby said, and you followed his order. robby watched as you found jake’s contact, called, and waited for him to pick up.

as you waited for the call, robby looked you over. you looked good, real good. you looked at peace despite the circumstances, barely any wrinkles despite the grey streaks you had due to stress, you had little to no makeup on, you still wore the simple ring jake and him bought you three years ago, and now you had a band beside it on your ring finger. robby’s heart dropped to his chest.

“hey jake, please call mom, me, or micheal when you can, okay? we just want to know that you’re safe. please be safe, we love you so much honey. call us, please.” you left a voicemail, looking back at robby with worried eyes. “don’t think of the what-ifs, we’ve had these moments before with him not answering.” robby tried to soothe you, “this is different.” you said, making him nod, “i’m just trying not to think the worst, i’m so goddamn close to it.” he spoke. “he’ll get to us, he’ll find his way to us, he always does.” you spoke, trying to reassure yourself.

you could see the fear in robby’s eyes, you most likely mirrored it. “i know you don’t want me to be, but im here for you if you need it. he’s our kid, in a way.” you said, your words stabbing his heart unknowingly. jake was the closest thing to you guys having a kid together, and he needed you there with him, he regretted saying he didn’t. “micheal.” you said, hand on his arm, trying to catch his eye.

he looked at you in the eyes, nodding, “yeah-yeah thank you.” he said softly, hand going above yours. the gesture was loving, you both felt it, but pulled apart.

“what’s the plan?” you asked robby, looking at the soon to be chaos around you guys.

for the next several hours, you worked alongside robby accidentally. both of you ended up on the same operation, working triage and any additional things. it was comforting to you, though you could never admit it. you never fully moved on, you were engaged to the man. your ex boyfriend after was even worse, so it was short lived. he never liked jake anyway, or your career, so you left him after he cheated. your family and career came first, relationships didn’t matter, you grew to be okay with being alone; robby made you learn how.

you both walked side by side, leading the way and telling the others what to do or give. robby looked at you, drilling in a bag to give blood, speaking with dr abbott on what you needed. you directed people perfectly, you were what the the pitt needed- a nicer, yet strong leader. the rest of them were cutthroat while you did things with a smile.

he got separated from you, helping others while you went to aid mel in a different wing. a part of him wanted to keep tabs on you as much as possible, as much tabs he was trying to keep on jake.

stepping outside, robby tried to get fresh air while handling the patients coming in at lightning speed. his heart pounded, and he swallowed back his anxiety, he was ready to get home, he needed peace.

a bit of peace came when you joined robby to help a few patients. “i’m dr l/n and this is dr robby, can you tell us your name?” you asked a patient, helping her into a wheelchair with robby. once she did, you felt a strong pulse and slapped on a color bracelet. you looked at robby, “breathe.” you said softly, walking away to get others.

robby watched you handle triage, barely flinching, directing people left to right. as he helped others, he followed your orders and calmed himself a bit. robby looked back up once you called him over, needing help with a patient. you both moved the man to a stretcher, you took pulse, checked for responsiveness, and gave him a certain color.

as you did all this, robby noticed you were doing the same thing he was doing, looking for jake. it made him feel even worse. you were supposed to be married by now, mr and mrs rabinovitch, with a new house and a guest room for the kid who loved to see you both. you were supposed to have nights where he could call you his, how he missed doing that.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this, you weren’t supposed to buy an apartment in silence and slowly move out, he wasn’t supposed to say those things to you, he wasn’t supposed to lose you. but this was his reality, just another harsh loss he had to face.

“you good?” he asked you when you stood alone for a second, looking around and leading people around by your hands. you looked at robby, “yeah i’m good, why is SWAT here?” you asked, looking at the SWAT team with him. “supposedly the shooter is coming here.” robby informed, making your eyes widen and you tense up. “why?” you asked. robby looked over at the older woman in the police car, you looked over at her. “that’s his mother. we’ve been trying to find him all day.” he informed.

robby watched everything run through your mind, your wide eyes glossy. “hey hey, cmon now. we got this, we’re going to be safe okay?” he assured, hands going to your arms. you looked at him and nodded, “i just can’t lose more kids today.” you said softly, seeing the teenagers around you get rushed in. robby’s face fell softly, and you looked at him, “go inside, they need you. i’m good to help out here.” you said.

he listened to you, he had a horrible feeling in his gut and wasn’t sure what was going on, but something in him was telling him to bring you inside. the feeling only worsened when SWAT ended up inside, protecting the doors or wherever they could. some doctors even asked for you, needing your assistance, robby had to get you inside.

he wanted you safe, he didn’t know what he’d do if the shooter came to you, if he lost you. he didn’t say it to anyone, and tried not to think about it, but he lost you once and didn’t want to completely lose you.

so he turned on his heel, walking out to triage at a quicker speed to find you. as he did so, he caught you bolting over to someone in a stretcher.

“oh my god! jake!”

#dr robby & hxrtnett #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #dr robby x y/n #dr robby x fem!reader #doctor robby x reader #doctor rabinovitch x reader #dr rabinovitch x reader

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prythiansprincess · 2 months ago

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── .✦ DAY THREE | [02/16] : ENZO. ♡ ₊˚⊹

prythian's princess presents... day three of the valentine special ⋆.˚ .ᐟ up next, a pretty face that no one can resist: enzo.

[edging kink] — a sexual technique for delaying orgasm, by bringing yourself or your partner to the edge, and then cooling down for a while before starting again.

[degradation kink] — a sexual preference characterized by individuals deriving arousal from acts of humiliation or degradation within a controlled and consensual context.

home ✦ special ✦ more

lorenzo berkshire loved to play games.

his favorite one was the intricate battle of wills between the two of you; the never-ending game of sexual tension and mutual loathing that spanned the entirety of your relationship. enzo knew how to push and prod, lived for the thrill of provoking and instigating for his own entertainment and there was no one more entertaining to him than you.

over the years, he had gotten good at identifying your weaknesses, picking at the sore spots over and over again until he got the result that he wanted — anger, hatred, loathing. there was nothing that enzo loved more than fighting, arguing, and bickering with you. the two of you pushed each other's limits and drove each other to the point of insanity only to do it all over again without ever addressing the underlying attraction that caused these explosive clashes in the first place.

enzo was content to play this game with you day after day. sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but the only thing that truly mattered to him was that no one got under your skin like he did. he liked knowing that he had this hold on you; relished in the fact that only he could elicit such a reaction. perhaps he underestimated his own expertise because he truly hadn't expected you to snap.

you were already having a terrible day to begin with when enzo decided to corner you in the corridor, that smug smirk present on his stupidly handsome face as he tugged on the hem of your skirt.

"nice skirt, sweetheart," enzo drawled. "did you wear this just for me?"

"piss off, berkshire." you snapped. "i'm not in the bloody mood."

enzo chuckled as you tried to shoulder past him. with his towering figure, it was easy to cage you between his arms, palms pressed against the wall as he leaned down and sneered at you. "someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he teased. "what's the matter, love? is it that time of the month again?"

"shut the fuck up," you growled.

a mischevious glimmer twinkled in his gaze as enzo ducked his head down, bringing his face mere inches away from yours. "make me."

enzo expected you to huff and puff, to angrily push past him, leaving him to stare at that perky arse of yours that was barely covered by your tight little skirt, but that wasn't what happened. one second enzo was staring down at you, smiling smugly at your incensed expression, and the next second he was being tugged down by his tie as you kissed him angrily.

there was so much venom and vitriol in the way your teeth clashed together, passion and hatred and tension finally bubbling up to the surface until neither one of you could take it any longer. all that pent up aggression poured out in the form of kissing and touching, your lips and hands exploring uncharted territory. enzo whined pathetically when you yanked him down by his tie, his cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bitten.

“I should have shut you up a long time ago, berkshire,” you taunted. enzo whimpered when you brought him down to your level, his honey eyes cloudy with lust. “i’m going to enjoy taking all my anger out on you.”

that’s how enzo ended up bound in the broom closet, struggling against the restraints while you bounced on his cock. he wanted to touch you, kiss you, feel you, but you made it clear that he wasn’t the one in charge. you were calling the shots now.

“please, honey, i’ll be good I promise,” enzo pleaded with tears in his eyes. “just untie me and I swear i’ll make you feel so good…”

“stop whining or i’ll gag you next.”

enzo was already painfully hard from the torture of you grinding against him and not being able to do anything about it. it had been an hour since you started this cruel routine, bringing him to the edge over and over again, but never giving him what he wanted.

“but it hurts,” he pleaded. “fuck, it hurts so bad. I just want to cum.”

you frowned, shaking your head at him as you slowed the roll of your hips until only his tip poked at your entrance. the absence was worse than the edging. “you should have thought about that before acting like such a dick. maybe next time you’ll learn to leave me alone when I tell you to.”

he wouldn’t. it didn’t matter what you did to him, enzo would never leave you alone. he physically couldn’t. he was drawn to you in a way that defied all logic. but it wasn’t like he could admit it out loud.

instead, enzo whined and squirmed, whimpering that he was too hard, he was too sensitive; it was too much and not enough all at the same time.

you slapped him across the face and enzo actually moaned. a whiny, pathetic moan that he would have otherwise been embarrassed of. but because it was you, the pleasure overshadowed the shame. he was too fucking turned on by this side of you.

“shut the fuck up, berkshire,” you growled as you gripped his chin and forced him to look at you. “this is what you get for being such an asshole. after all the shit that you’ve pulled, do you really think i’d let you cum so easily?”

“please, honey. please, i’ll do anything. anything you want.”

your pleased chuckle sent a shiver down his spine. “you’re so fucking pathetic. begging, really?” enzo bit his lip as you degraded him, aroused by the humiliation. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

enzo sighed in relief as you started moving your hips again, your warmth hugging around his cock once more. he was barely hanging on to his sanity yet enjoying every second of it. “fuck, thank you. god, that feels so good. please, please, don’t stop, baby.”

“don’t thank me yet,” you said. “i’m only using you to get myself off. if you make me cum, then i’ll think about untying you, but until then, shut the fuck up and take it.”

#I just know he would be such a whiny little sub #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fic #enzo berkshire fic #louis partridge #slytherin boys

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doudouma · 1 year ago

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Heyo! I'd like to request a top three upper moon x s/o! Reader who is kind of mad at them and refuses to cuddle them (but ends up the one cuddling when they thought that they fell asleep- which they didn't.)

“wait, i thought you were sleeping?!”

upper3 reaction to you cuddling them but you’re angry! _______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

you’re upset at the upper moon trio (separate), but you cuddle them when you thought they fell asleep〜

there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

↑ (reader spooning character, if you’re worried about that.)

reader is gender neutral.❀ 〜

a/n : for some reason, i couldn’t comprehend this request. after all, it was late at night〜apologies my lotus, this request is cute！

！anon, i want to apologize to you. right when i finished writing, i reread the request and realized i slightly misunderstood it, and i do not know how to fix it. i decided to post it anyways. m(_ _)m

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

kokushibo

kokushibo.. your straight-forward silent lover…

he knows why you could potentially be upset, but doesn’t see the purpose of being upset about it.

you were upset at something that happened earlier, and tried to ask for a solution from your beloved〜

he gave you your answer, alright.. but he worded it in a way that might’ve made it seem like it was your fault on what happened.

he didn’t try to! he just tried to get you to realize where exactly it went wrong.

now… he’s just waiting in anticipation for your response.

but instead, you just sit there just trying to pinpoint what his goal in mind was. looking a more upset than before.

forgetting it all, you end up heading to bed, attempting to just relax.

drifting off to sleep (if you’re able to sleep), you suddenly remember that your lover didn’t join you to bed. will a small disagreement split the two of you up into separate rooms tonight?

your eyes quickly widen and see that kokushibo is there, but with his back facing you.

when did he even get in here?! it looks like he’s been here for a minute too. sneaky uppermoon one…

now that you’re relieved, you move closer to him, and place your arm around him to his heart♡

he slightly smiles, only smiles. eventually he tells you as he rest his eyes..

“i apologize for the way i initially communicated with you. we may talk this out tomorrow, with less misunderstandings, (name).”

douma

douma wouldn’t understand why you’re mad at him!

teasing is just his nature! no matter how harsh it is, to him, he’s only speaking out of love.

which he is, but.. he doesn’t consider that other people could find it offensive or annoying.

he’ll listen when you voice your opinion on his absurd way of showing love, but, it’ll only result in more teasing〜

eventually, you get too fed up with his cockiness and foul teasing to the point where you just go to bed! without him!

even while upset at your love, you do fairly want him by your side, even if he is being a little s- -

- -so like i said, he wouldn’t fully understand on why you’re upset, so he’s not giving you any personal space.

therefore, he ends up joining you in bed〜

in bed where it feels like forever, with the both of you facing opposite ways.

you silently look over, and to what it seems like he’s “sleeping��.

soon enough you flip over and spoon him, while a smirk appears on doumas face, as he places his hand on top of yours♡

somehow in a span of three seconds, now he’s spooning you, hugging you while saying,

“oh, my love! i knew you couldn’t stay mad at me for too long〜 oh how much i’ve missed you♡”

akaza

akaza is aware of where this all went wrong, but in his brain (if demons have one atp) he just tried to help.

today was just not the day for you.

maybe someone was being annoying, you lost a fight, woke up on the wrong side of the bed, who knows.

whatever happened, akaza was determined to fix it, because he only wants his lover to be happy!

but… you just wanted to be alone. sometimes alone time is all you need〜

but akaza kept bringing you things you like, kept staying near you, and kept asking if everything was alright♡

you accepted his kindness and offers, but you genuinely just wanted to be alone to recharge, but your lover being persistent as he is only made you feel more annoyed.

you expressed that, but he just kept following you like a lost puppy!

in due time, you end up vaguely telling off akaza for “pestering” you and how you just had a awful day.

he stands there, with a blanket and pillow in his hand, not saying a word as you walk off to bed… and he follows you.

he tucks both of you to bed, and you both lay there facing opposite ways.

you lay there, thinking over your day. you shortly realize that akaza was there for you even at your lowest, but you didn’t see it because you were already upset.

you turn around, and swiftly spoon the “sleeping” akaza, holding his hand〜

he lets out a little chuckle and caresses your hand to tell you,

“i’m sorry for ruining your day even further. but i’m glad to be here for you now. sometimes just a hug is all you need, my love.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

besides me accidentally messing this up, the request was fun to write! i’m trying to dive into other fandoms and post more often. i look forward into having your support, my precious flowers.❀ 〜

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stupidphototricks · 9 months ago

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Death as Bill Door, getting a life.

"Are you decent, Bill Door?" said Miss Flitworth's voice in the darkness. Bill Door analyzed the sentence for meaning within context. YES? he ventured. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Bill Door was no good at reading faces. It was a skill he'd never needed. He stared at Miss Flitworth's frozen, worried, pleading smile like a baboon looking for meaning in the Rosetta Stone. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Was that what it was really like to be alive? The feeling of darkness dragging you forward? How could they live with it? And yet they did, and even seemed to find enjoyment in it, when surely the only sensible course would be to despair. Amazing. To feel you were a tiny living thing, sandwiched between two cliffs of darkness. How could they stand to be alive? -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

The child stared distantly at the landscape for a while and then said, "I've got new socks." YES? "You can look, if you like." A grubby foot was extended for inspection. WELL, WELL. FANCY THAT. NEW SOCKS. "My mum knitted them out of sheep." MY WORD. The horizon was given another inspection. "D'you know," she said, "d'you know... it's Friday." YES. "I found a spoon." Bill Door found that he was waiting expectantly. He was not familiar with people who had an attention span of less than three seconds. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Death knew that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world. He knew this. The knowledge was built into him. To Bill Door, he realized, it was so much horse elbows. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

SOMETIMES PEOPLE CHALLENGE ME TO A GAME. FOR THEIR LIVES, YOU KNOW. "Do they ever win?" NO. LAST YEAR SOMEONE GOT THREE STREETS AND ALL THE UTILITIES. "What? What sort of game is that?" I DON"T RECALL. "EXCLUSION POSSESSION," I THINK. I WAS THE BOOT. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Bill Door felt very old. In fact he was very old. But he'd never felt it as much as this. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

"What the hell have you been doing, Mr. So-Called Bill Door?" I AM TIRED AND IT WON'T STOP. Bill Door clutched at his skull. ALSO SPIGOT GAVE ME A HUMOROUS APPLE JUICE FERMENTED DRINK BECAUSE OF THE HEAT AND NOW I FEEL ILL. "I ain't surprised. He makes it up in the woods. Apples isn't the half of it." I HAVE NEVER FELT ILL BEFORE. OR TIRED. "It's all part of being alive." HOW DO HUMANS STAND IT? "Well, fermented apple juice can help." -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

JUST BECAUSE SOMETHING IS A METAPHOR DOESN'T MEAN IT CAN'T BE REAL. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

I'VE NEVER BEEN VERY SURE ABOUT WHAT IS RIGHT, said Bill Door. I AM NOT SURE THERE IS SUCH A THING AS RIGHT. OR WRONG. JUST PLACES TO STAND. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

IF PEOPLE KNEW WHEN THEY WERE GOING TO DIE, I THINK THEY PROBABLY WOULDN'T LIVE AT ALL. "Oh, very gnomic. And what do you know about it, Bill Door?" EVERYTHING. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

"Have you got any last words?" YES. I DON'T WANT TO GO. "Well. Succinct, anyway." -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

(Now I'm honestly wondering if Russell T. Davies read Terry Pratchett??)

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #bill door #reaper man #discworld quotes #quotes

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papermonkeyism · 1 month ago

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Pictured, from left to right: a newborn Termrean, an adult Termrean (can be either male or female), and a "family man".

Some more or less scattered thoughts on Termrean families.

Termreans kind of have three genders.

Mostly males and females are indistinguishable from each other (they can mostly tell each other apart, but for a human eye the differences are nonexistent), but in specific circumstances some males can go through a second puberty, resulting in the third category.

An average Termrean family unit is anywhere from three up to a dozen adult individuals and their children*. Nearly all families will have one or two males become "family men". The exact word varies, but they have mostly the same cultural role as the mediator of their family and taking care of the family's children.

Some humanoids call them "breeding males", though Termreans themselves find the term weird and impersonal.

Yes, they do end up siring the majority of children, but not all of them, and given how Termreans tend towards having longer life spans (up to about 120-180 years) and very low childhood mortality, they don't really have all that many babies, as there's less pressure on reproducing. Thus, the average Termrean only comes into season for less than a week every two years, and remain largely uninterested in sex for the remainder of the time, so they feel putting emphasis on the breeding-part misses the point.

(It's unusual to have more than two family men in the same unit, though not unheard of, though it usually requires either the family being exceptionally big, or having a solitary family man or pair join a family that already had its own.)

Approximately only about 1/3 of male Termreans go through this metamorphosis, and it's likelier to happen if you're older, fat and/or don't have another family man in your family already, like if the former one has died. Also having sex regularly can trigger the change, so most of those living among hominids prefer to abstain to avoid accidentally triggering the second puberty, as the size increase tends to be really inconvenient when you're already too big for most buildings.

After the transformation they can easily be twice as heavy as an untransformed adult male, growing taller, building more muscle mass and fat, and growing longer fur around their neck, chest and arms, where infants can easier grab onto**, and the bone growth will also affect the crown too, building longer, thicker horns and forcing the bone of the frill itself to curve slightly upwards.***

Sometimes female Termreans can also go through the full or partial transformation, usually from hormonal imbalance reasons, though where the chance is somewhere around 33% of the males, it's less than a 1% chance for females.

All Termreans can grow the flowy mane on the top edge of their necks, though it's a cultural norm for them to keep it cut short unless you're a family man. (Arcanth doesn't care, Arcanth is culturally a dwarf, and thinks the long, flowy mane looks cool and is fun to decorate.)

*Technically speaking, from Termrean point of view, monogamy is queer.

** they do usually wear some forms of baby slings too, but ancestrally they carried their babies like monkeys do.

*** it is polite for Termreans to look at you directly head on, keeping the crown level with your face so it stays mostly hidden behind the head. Tilting your head in a way that lifts the frill up is a show of dominance or showing off, and can be seen as rude or challenging, depending on context. The big family men are seen as an exception, as displaying your size and strength is just obvious, so the crown being visible at all times is just a reminder of who you are.

#Arcanth #for tagging purposes

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goldsbitch · 1 year ago

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Just don't talk---

-to me.

p4 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Y/N unknowingly crosses a line, making it impossible for Lando to continue their little affair.

warnings: cursing, typos

Sometimes, the world of F1 really required one to grow up fast. Y/N had noticed strange looks from few of the team members during meetings and sessions for the whole week. She tried not to give it much thought - that was until her manager called, on a late Wednesday evening and broke the news. There were serious talks of her being replaced by someone, who used to drive for her team before and wanted back. She, as an average rookie, couldn't stand a chance and couldn't possibly play the "female driver" card (which she hated anyway). The phone call with her manager was a hard one, nothing seemed to be confirmed, but her pro active guardian angel worked on having enough close friendships around the team to know the news before it got to be known around the paddock. Her heart was racing for life, hand shaking, mind running wild. This couldn't be happening. They can't just drop her out of nowhere, she tried to convince herself.

She lived in this uncertainty for three days, constantly in contact with her own team, focusing on not failing at her job, completely ignoring any texts or calls from people outside her comfort zone. Yet, she didn't hesitate to schedule a hook up with Lando. A break though came when her manager called, informing her that she currently in negotiations with another f1 team for potential transfer, she called it a "just in case" back up, but sounded a little too excited for it being a back up team. Even when Y/N begged to know what team that was, her manager did not cave in, saying it was just too early stages.

What a perfect waste of time. Every evening in her busy life was a calculation, a plan to keep or alone time prescribed by herself. Tonight they were suppose to meet up with Lando, in the morning they'd texted about it, he even cracked a joke and appeared to be in a generally easy going mode. But 8pm rolled in and no text, call or even a doorbell. After a half an hour of pacing around and pretending to be busy, she found herself in a completely clean kitchen, finished emails and painted nails. Lando was rarely ever late without a note beforehand. She was not going to text him. That would be too needy. Few episodes of some sitcom, which she had to rewind several times as her attention span lasted about two minutes. Minutes rolled in like a cruel indicator of how much she took as a given that they'd see each other. How much it wasn't on the table that he would ditch her. At some point, she had to come to terms with it. But nobody was there to force to admit that she felt a strange hollow feeling in her stomach. She pushed all thoughts into the back of her head and focused on her next racing plan. That's what she was suppose to be anyway. She might face being replaced out of nowhere, she had to be at her best game. Only when she lost the option of the only distraction that seemed to work in the form of Lando's smirk, she realized how much tension she held within her. It wasn't a night filled with much sleep for her. The late night loneliness crept in, loveless mornings had pilled up over time into a tower blocking the sunshine in. She sat on her bed, second guessing every choice she ever made - was the racing even worth it all? She could have been married by now? What a strange concept. Was she ever going to do so? In a man's world, was there an option to find a lover who would not challenge her and only induce her anxiety? She circled back to her first and only love and wasn't even sure if she had the privilege to call it that as the memory of the slacker guy from her hometown literally slept through their break up. Often she'd watch her colleagues hop on the first plane to spend as much time as this lifestyle allowed with a loved one. She had yet to find out what that kind of a flight felt like.

A whole week had passed since that night. They saw each other on numerous occasions and both of them avoided each other's looks, as if they would turn to stone if their eyes had met. It was good for their public image.

Y/N was excited when her manager finally met up with her in person to tell her about a potential team transfer, should the silly season kick in hard. "I'm not saying anything is set in stone. There have just been few meetings, lawyers checked up your contract again for potential breach causes, so we did some work in the meantime," she stated dramatically over a coffee date they'd set up at Y/N's hotel room. Her manager seemed unusually giddy, excitement poking through her professionalism. "There is a possibility, now, hold your horses, just a possibility, that there might be an open seat at McLaren soon." This came as a shock wave. Y/N always admired her manager, who was always three steps ahead of everyone. Her mind started to race in many conflicting directions. McLaren was an exciting team, definitely a promotion. So was this why Lando ghosted her? Because she might potentially become his teammate? That was just a little too childish of him, she thought, judging her own choices in a hook up "buddy". "So does that mean that Oscar is thinking about leaving the team?" "Well, not exactly. Technically, nobody is thinking about leaving the team. Also, it's not Oscar, but Lando." And the penny dropped.

Lando had been in this business for years. He knew well enough what was up. Made sure to have people at the right places, faithful souls who loved him a little too much and were willing to breach their NDA for him. Of course he knew that Y/N's managers were speaking to McLaren. And also why. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. He was a great racer with a big potential. When he learned in secrecy that the reason why McLaren is thinking of changing up their driver line up, it wasn't exactly because of the actual racing, but more of marketing and appearing as a young hip team, it made him furious. Lando had started to become an old news for the marketers. Oscar and Y/N pairing had intrigued them. Of course he wasn't going to keep on with their little love affair. She was becoming a threat, more so outside the track than on the track. He was mad when he found out. Of course he had always kept his distance from Y/N. But this felt personal. She truly was a ruthless bitch, as his gut had told him from day one. It probably wasn't even attraction what he felt towards her, just his subconsciousness telling him to keep his enemies closest physically possible. He tried to hold of thinking about their glorious sex. There were bigger things at stake. He didn't feel threatened. Just little bit betrayed. He had to take action.

Once her manager left, she found herself pacing around her room yet again. Thoughts jumping one over another. Excitement skipping over anxiousness, joy being overrun by a sinking fear. She was always going to put her career first. So why was there a sudden urge to run to wherever Lando was and explain that she had no idea this was being set up in her name.

It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, standing at a photoshoot for her contract renewal. There was an unspoken tension between her and the team leaders, nobody willing to talk openly about the fact that they were about to drop her and she was talking about running to different team. But there she was, faking smiles, staying with the team for another two seasons, hating this industry more than ever before. In the end, she gave her everything just to stay in an environment that made her feel just like another clog in the all too big entertainment machine. McLaren calls were getting postponed and everyone knew what that meant, so her own personal team decided to jump for the first option that offered some security. With that, she smiled and posed again. Merely a shell of the fiery girl that bit Lando's arm just weeks ago. All this stress, loneliness and self-doubt had changed the course of her energy.

"Oh, you're taking the same elevator?" Lando asked, shooting arrows at Y/N as he pressed the close door button. He had imagined many times that he would slam a door in her face and this was the closest her could get to that. She put her hand into the door gap, giving him a strict eye roll. Finally, faith brought them into a place where they were alone again. "Really?" she said walking in the elevator. Lando tried to be the bigger and mature person. Being around her was making it impossible. He was angry and frustrated. "So...how are you?" she tried to break the ice. "You have never asked me that before. Are you sick?" "No, I'm just...we haven't spoken-" "-ever. No reason to start now," he said, acting as if this was all passing him by. Scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. "I didn't know..." "What..?" "I didn't know that my managers were having these talks," she said softly. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it. "And are you looking for my advice on how to keep the people who you pay in check? Or what is the purpose of this conversation?" "I'm just...I never wanted to try and push you out of..you know." Lando laughed. "That's some severe delulu vibe you're giving off." "Sorry?" she reacted, genuinely confused. "The audacity you have! Thinking you can manipulate the situation better than I do. Princess, I've been in the game years more than you and survived bigger shitstorms - do you really believed I'm here only because I'm a good driver? No, these games are half of the work. So no, I absolutely do not believe that you didn't know about this. And the fact that you're trying to convince me of that is highly disrespectful." Y/N was taken back, processing several conflicting reactions at the same time. The always calm Lando got pushed over the edge. And he was not done. "Next time you're drowning, don't reach out to drag me down too. You should be grateful, you got to keep your job and certainly no thanks to the shitty managers of yours, so you're welcome. I'm genuinely surprised that you landed the job you now have in the first place."

It was a lot of information blurted at her. But she got a hold of the important part. "Lando? What did you do?" He took a deep breath. He said too much. "You will never find out. Now stop talking."

Y/N hit a pause on the elevator. Not that it would help, she figured they had only few minutes extra before someone would be over to run the machine again. "The fuck are you doing," Lando exclaimed and tried to stop her. His hand grabbed her arm and Y/N got an instant flashback to the night he tied her to her own bed frame. "Did you help me?" she asked, anger spitting out of her lips. "Let's not dive into that, shall we? Now, get the elevator running." "I don't need your help, Lando." "This was not any help, I'm trying to keep you out of McLaren, so don't read into it." While that did sound reasonable, Y/N knew there was more. With that, the fire she'd been missing for weeks entered her system again. "Stop helping me, Lando," she said in a serious tone, stepping closer to the guy still holding her arm. She quickly pushed it away. "I don't need your help." She was really pushing it, he thought and bursted. "Is that so! I saw that last week. Your weak strategy and poor results nearly got you dropped. " "No, not dropped. Replacing you." "It would take the hell to freeze over for that to happen, Princess naivité. It was a straight path back to f2 at best. Get your shit together and get a grip over those who act in your name and grow up. Nobody is going to save you next time." She wondered what exactly he did, but knew that there will be a time and place for that conversation. Lando cursed himself for saying it all at once. He was there, lecturing her on strategy, while not being able to follow his own for a second when she was around. Said things he planned on keeping for himself forever. She stood in front of him and he could read the surprise on her face. Anger left her body and suddenly she never looked so innocent. Just a scared girl standing in front of him, trying to navigate their complicated world. The only reason he helped her was because he felt sorry for her. Nothing else. Definitely. "How can I repay you?" she asked, humbled by the newly found information. He took his time to respond. Prolonging this moment just a little. Knowing that soon enough, the innocent face he stared at would soon turn to its usual pseudo-tough-cool-girl mask. It was as if he saw the real Y/N for the first time. "You could stop whining and get this elevator running," he said slowly, as if his body was rejecting these words. Without any other comment, she obeyed his wish. They both turned away from each other and continued in silence. Lando had secretely hoped that she would question him more. She let out a little thank you when exiting the elevator. He watched her leave and forgot for a moment into which floor he was supposed to originally go. She paced away from his as fast as she could. These past few days have pushed her to the limit and the conversation with Lando was the last straw, the word "Princess" screaming in Lando's voice in her head.

part 5

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @multifandomwhore-003

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boyswillbebuggsorsomething · 3 months ago

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If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him - Pt. 2

Spencer Reid x M!Reader

Summary: After you and Spencer reunited, you started becoming close again, however a bad night out led to you getting closer much faster than you thought.

Warnings: Vaguely inspired by If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him by McCafferty but specifically the last verse, cursing, drinking/alcohol consumption, R needs healthier coping mechanisms, R is drunk, drunk person written by someone who does not drink and only has experience with angry drunks and people who turn into a bad folk band while drunk, allusions to casual sex/hooking up, mentions of fighting/violence and subsequent injuries, no physical descriptions for R other than having hair and having had previously broken his nose, R & Spencer’s past is somewhat inspired by Trees & Trees II by McCafferty (but that isn’t really expanded upon in this, it will be later though), probably ooc, so many commas, NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

A/N: Y’all, R is kind of just bordering on being a functioning alcoholic at this point, he really needs better coping mechanisms, however it will be explained why he is the way he is soon, and he will get better. Also, I’m sorry if this was inconsistent, it was written over the span of multiple days with very little re-reading as I have been busy with art stuff and finals. Thank you so much for all the support you gave me on the first part, I’m glad y’all liked it! The ending kinda sucks but most of it I like, I'm sorry it took so long to release. Thank you all so much for reading!

Word Count: 6093

Mornings with Spencer had become by far your favourite thing in recent weeks.

Ever since you two had reunited, you had started seeing each other more and more. It started as just coffee once to catch up, simple really. You told him about all the places you’ve lived in since he left Nevada, pointedly excluding the exact reason behind why you moved around so much. You’d tell him soon. You told him about what brought you to Virginia, a job offer writing as a proper journalist, the best paying job you’d had in a long time. He told you about the years leading up to his position at the BAU, the years spent at school, the academy, all that good stuff. He also told you about his team, the ones you saw only briefly that night at the bar, his second family. You learned quite a lot about them, and despite having never met them, you had already started picking favourites, but you wouldn’t admit that to him.

One coffee became two. Two became three became five, until every day that he wasn’t on a case you got coffee at the little shop that was the perfect distance between his apartment and his office, even though it was a little out of the way for you. He always got his coffee with too much sugar, sweeter than you’d ever seen anyone else take it, and you got tea. You never could get into coffee the way everyone else did, you always thought it tasted burnt.

Sometimes, when Spencer wasn’t paying attention, you’d study his features in greater detail. The way his almond hair would curl just a bit at the ends, showing its natural texture the slightest amount. It would forever confuse you why he chose to straighten his hair when you knew exactly how lovely it would look natural. The way his mouth flattened out when he smiled, and his eyes twinkled with the most gorgeous spark you had ever gotten the chance to see. The way he spoke with his hands, and fidgeted with them endlessly. You had especially grown to love the way his face grew pink when you complimented him. You hadn’t intended to fluster him so much when you told him how pretty was, but he hadn’t experienced your affinity for compliments in a decade, so as a result you got the most beautiful smile and a lovely, bashful “Really? Thank you.” in response. After that, you’d taken to complimenting him more often, just to see that glimmer in his eyes, like a puppy who’d been called a good boy for the first time. He still wrinkled his nose when he smelled cigarettes on you, despite his best efforts to hide it, and it was so pitiful at times that you would let him lecture you on the hazards of smoking. You liked listening to him talk anyways, even if it was a mind numbing monologue about how you were killing yourself. Usually it wasn’t though. Usually it was about a case or a book or a documentary or Dr. Who, which he still hadn’t convinced you to watch yet.

Today was no different. You were sat across from each other at the same table you always sat at, you and Spencer had both sworn off all unnecessary change in this routine. His large hands were wrapped around the mug, steam emanating from it and filling the air with the sweet scent of his coffee. You had an herbal tea clasped in your hands, hoping desperately its calming benefits would help you with the stress of the past week.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked after you had yawned for the third time during the conversation you were having about Sherlock Holmes, as you had recently picked up a full collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works, much to his elation.

“Yeah, sorry. Work’s just been a lot lately, y’know?” You chuckled slightly, a bit self pityingly, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. Spencer, as much as you had grown to love him all over again, was still a profiler, and had this horrible habit of profiling you without realising, and he had plenty to say about the way you laughed at yourself anytime you felt anything at all.

“I understand, I’m sorry,” his brows furrowed the slightest bit and there was genuine concern behind the statement.

“Nah, you don’t need to feel bad or anything. I knew what I was getting into, and honestly it’s not that bad. I mean, you hunt down serial killers for fuck’s sake, writing an annoying article is nothing. Just exhausting.”

“Exhaustion, especially exhaustion caused by work induced stress actually has a lot of adverse health effects, like migraines, worsening social abilities, and can even affect other aspects of your life, including productivity, so actually your work being stressful and exhausting can be making your work significantly harder which in turn makes it more stressful and exhausting, which really just gets you stuck in a loop of burn out that is incredibly hard to get out of.”

“Thanks, Spencer. You really do know everything, huh?” You smiled, shaking your head in response to his encyclopedic knowledge you know for a fact he was simplifying for you.

“Thank you?” He tilted his head slightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He really was like a puppy sometimes. It was sweet though. And you were glad he learned to take your teasing as compliments again. The first few times you had gone to the coffee shop, he had been horribly apologetic about whatever you ended up teasing him for and it made you feel utterly horrendous to have made him feel bad over something so sweet.

You opened your mouth to respond before the shrill ring of his phone began, interrupting your lovely conversation.

“Hotch?” You asked as he picked up the call, earning a sympathetic, tight lipped smile and a nod in response.

And with that, your daily meet up was ended. Spencer gathered his things, apologising profusely for having to leave despite your constant assurances that you didn’t care, his job was more important than coffee.

Sometimes you wished you were a better liar.

…………………

On most cases in recent weeks, you’d call or text Spencer daily, making sure he was okay and providing levity to the grim situations. However, the night he’d gotten back, he hadn’t gotten a single message from you, let alone the usual call where you demanded he told you exactly what happened to him so you could ensure he wasn’t injured or dead. You’d only been in contact now for a couple months, eight weeks or so, he couldn’t expect you to constantly be in contact with him, but routine was important to you both, always had been, and it felt strange that you wouldn’t at least text him when he landed. Something felt wrong and he was getting worried.

Morgan noticed first, as Spencer’s brow furrowed and he drummed his finger against his thigh. He rested his large hand, warm and comforting on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Hey, pretty boy, you okay?” The warm tones of Morgan’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

“I am. Just worried about a friend. I think something might’ve happened? I don’t know though. He usually calls or texts when the cases are over, and I haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning.”

“I’m sure your friend is fine. He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself, Reid.”

Spencer nodded, trying to believe Morgan, but something was eating away at the back of his mind.

Could you really?

He’d met you for the first time in a decade when you were trying to get drunk enough you couldn’t think. You seemingly had no other friends in the state other than him, save for coworkers you never put in the effort to see unless you had to. You smoked until you were wheezing daily, and refused to even try to quit. In all the time he’s seen you, he hadn’t seen you drink water once, just tea, alcohol, and the occasional energy drink. You really weren’t the greatest at self preservation. Never had been. He doubted you ever would be.

Just as he was getting stuck in his head, his phone rang, and much to his delight it was your number. His face must have lit up, because Morgan grinned at him.

“See, kid? Probably just got wrapped up with his own job or something. You worry too much.”

Spencer agreed, until he actually picked up the phone, “Hello?”

“Hey, Spence,” you slurred on the other line.

Something was clearly wrong. He was vaguely aware of Morgan’s face dropping, his brow creasing, but his focus was on your call.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, nothin’, don’t worry. I’m okay. ‘M okay. Sorry for callin’ you like this” you laughed slightly, but it was bitter and hollow.

“You’re not okay, you’re slurring your words, and you sound completely out of it. Have you been drinking?” Spencer’s voice was stern, there was kindness beneath it, but his worry and annoyance was equally clear.

“Jus’ a li’l bit, Spence. Not- I’m okay.”

“Stop,” he interrupted, voice softening, “Please.”

You simply hummed in response.

“Where are you?”

“Bar.”

“Obviously. What bar?”

“Uh, the one I saw you at. Tha’ one.”

“O’Keefe’s?”

“Mhm. Can you pick me up?”

God, you sounded pitiful. He regretted having taken the subway when he had gone to work, before the flight. You’d mentioned offhandedly once that the subway made you sick sometimes, and he really did not want to risk that with your inebriated state.

“I don’t have my car with me,” Spencer murmured somewhat apologetically, even though he had no hand in your poor choices to get this drunk.

“Oh.”

At that horrible, broken tone your voice possessed, he looked to Morgan, holding the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“What is it, kid?”

“Would you be able to pick my friend up from O’Keefe’s? I don’t- I don’t know why he’s there or why he’s so drunk, but I know he can’t stay there. He’s really bad at not getting himself in bad situations. Or even just bring me to find him? It’s alright if you can’t, I understand it’s weird to pick up a drunk guy you've never met-”

“Hey,” Morgan cut him off, smiling reassuringly, “I can definitely do that, where am I bringing him?”

“I don’t know his address, just bring us both to my apartment?”

“Of course,” He smiled before continuing, “Hey, and I get to meet the mystery man that’s somehow gotten Spencer Reid to willingly use technology everyday, who wouldn’t want that?”

Spencer offered him a small, tight lipped smile, quietly telling you he was coming to get you and hanging up before they made their way to the elevator and subsequently to Morgan’s car. The drive was mostly silent, Spencer’s mind running a mile a minute as he tried to figure out why the hell you would do this when you couldn’t even guarantee you’d have a way back home. His hands moved in tandem with his mind. Wringing and tapping. He wished he could somehow drive to you while also being up and moving.

When they pulled up outside of O’Keefe’s, Spencer practically jumped out of the car to go to you. You were crouched in the spot you had stood next to him that first night, your head in your hands and clearly worse for wear. He jogged over to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your shoulders, jolting you enough that you looked up at him. Your eyes were glassy and half lidded as you looked up at him, a drunken haze softening your expression. Most jarringly, however, your lower lip was split and a trail of dried blood was smudged across your upper lip. You smiled up at him, sighing slightly.

“Hey, Spencer, you came.”

“Of course I did, Wha- what happened?”

“Got in a little fight, ‘m okay,” You slurred in response, blinking up at him.

“C’mon,” He muttered, hoisting you up, making you slump against him a bit, “I’m not going to make you explain all this right now, not when you’re this drunk, but we are going to get you home, and cleaned up.”

You hummed in response, stumbling slightly along with him over to Morgan’s car. He helped you in, resulting in a copious amount of thanks from your end, which made Spencer flush slightly in embarrassment. He then slid into the seat beside you in the back, rather than in the passenger seat where he had sat on the way over, watching you through the corner of his eye.

“What the hell happened to him, kid?” Morgan looked bewildered, concern etched into every groove of his face.

“I don’t.. Know. He said it was a fight, I don’t want to interrogate him while he’s drunk,” Spencer groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face, watching your slumped form in the other seat.

“Well, he seems great already,” The somewhat concerned sarcasm was practically dripping from Morgan's words as he adjusted his hands on the wheel and began to drive off.

“He’s usually not like this, I think- I don’t know why he is tonight,” Spencer’s eyes were trained on you, a slender hand resting on your knee comfortingly.

“Y’know, I can hear you,” You murmured in a sing-song voice, glancing up at Spencer and laughing that same hollow laugh.

“Sorry-”

“What’s your friend's name? You didn’ tell me. I wanna thank him.”

“His name is Derek Morgan, he’s one of the members of my team. I told you about him before,” Spencer explained calmly.

“Derek’s a stupid fuckin’ name,” You muttered quietly, earning a bemused scoff from Morgan, continuing in a louder voice, “Thank you for driving me home, Morgan. I ain’t calling you Derek.”

“No problem,” He laughed, nodding when you introduced yourself, slurring your words as you did so.

The conversation lulled, and your eyes drooped closed, your head resting against the window. Despite your drunken state, you found your thoughts surprisingly clear, muddled, but clear enough to make sense of. Decidedly, this was the worse outcome than not being able to make sense of anything at all. You didn’t like this in between state. The one where your thoughts were jumbled and loud and screaming for attention and not one could do anything to make you feel better. You wanted to cry and laugh and scream and break something all at once, but you wouldn’t. You had enough of your wits about you to not trash a stranger's car, or fight with your only actual friend, or pull any of that shit no matter how appealing it seemed in the moment. You were different now, better.

Eventually Morgan pulled up in front of Spencer’s apartment, earning a slew of thanks from both Spencer and yourself as he helped you out of the car. You leaned heavily against Spencer as he guided you into his building, the lanky man keeping you as steady as he could while you were seemingly dead set on just falling face first on the ground.

“C’mon,” he murmured calmly, “we’re almost there. You cannot just lay in the middle of a hallway.”

“You are not the man I thought I’d be spending my night with,” you hummed, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Not mad though.”

“What?”

His confusion earned a small laugh from you as he continued to drag you through the halls of the building until stopping in front of his door. You stepped away briefly, leaning against the wall so he could unlock the door.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you hummed in a sing-song voice as he guided you into his apartment.

“Of course,” he sighed, “I’m gonna get you some water and then a first aid kit, okay?”

“You don’t need to, ‘m okay,” you grumbled, kicking off your shoes.

“You’re injured, for one, and it’s actually very important to drink water after getting this drunk, it helps prevent any dehydration and helps your body rid itself of toxins. Both of which are beneficial to your health and can lessen your hangover symptoms tomorrow,” Spencer explained as he sat you down on his couch and stepped into his kitchen.

“You’re too nice to me. I’m just fine,” you sighed deeply, slumping against his couch.

“Getting drunk and fighting someone while drunk with no way home is very different from being fine,” he stated sternly, a touch of confusion colouring his tone at your insistence, as he filled a glass with water and brought it over to you.

“I did have a way home at first,” you took the water, not wanting to fight him on this when his eyes were so wide with worry.

“What do you mean ‘at first’?”

“He was drinking just as much as me, I wasn’t gonna get in a car with a drunk driver. I might not be a genius, but I ain’t that stupid,” you explained, drinking down the water steadily, “You’ve got good water,” you added absentmindedly.

“Thank you?” He couldn't quite tell what the appropriate reaction to the complement(?) was, so he just went back to the kitchen to grab his first aid kit out from under the sink, bringing it back over “But who were you going to go home with, I thought you didn’t know anyone here? Not well, at least,” Spencer sat beside you, tilting his head in that puppy-like way.

“Mm-mm. Didn’t know him.”

He took a second to understand, momentarily confused at why anyone would be going around with someone they barely know, the amount of cases that started that way-

Then it clicked.

“Oh.”

You nodded, sipping at the water more gingerly now.

“I’m very glad you called me then. A random guy is definitely not worth a major car accident- Actually, I doubt any guy is worth getting in a car with a drunk driver with the mortality rates and amount of crashes caused by them,” Spencer smiled reassuringly, setting his hand on your knee comfortingly before he opened up the first aid kit to clean up your split lip and wipe away all the dried blood.

He took out one of those alcohol swabs and asked you gently to turn your head towards him so he could access your face better. Spencer took his time as he cleaned away the blood and grime from your face, holding your jaw softly in a way that made your breath hitch ever so slightly. His touch had this wonderful, calming quality that was so distinctly Spencer that you could recognise it in any situation at any time in any place. As he finished, he offered you a sweet little smile you felt obligated to return, regardless of your state.

“Thanks for getting me,” You murmured softly as he packed up the kit and set it aside.

“You’ve already thanked me enough times, you’re my friend, I wasn’t going to let you stay in a dangerous situation like that for any reason at all.”

“Too nice to me,” you decided, setting the glass down and shifting to lean against him, “You’re warm.”

“Thank you? You confuse me sometimes.”

“Good.”

He smiled warmly and hesitantly moved his hand to rest on your shoulder, holding you gently to his side. You reacted well, curling up against him, resting against him how you did years ago on days where you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep the night before. It was a comfort you hadn’t realised you missed so much in your time apart. You sat there for a bit, your eyelids heavy as he gently rubbed your arm. Your brain had quieted down in Spencer’s hold, his own mind running a mile a minute as he tried to come up with a reason for you to be this drunk on a random day of the week, other than your complete lack of care for yourself and your safety. His apartment had an environment that felt foreign to you, a warm blanket enveloping your whole being and permeating your soul. The walls were lined with books, additional texts stacked on every surface imaginable and strewn around regardless of where they were, as though he had placed them down without thinking as soon as they were finished and moved on to another book. Even the air itself had an electricity that made everything seem warmer, not really temperature wise, but warm like the feeling in your chest when you were with someone you loved, that kind of fuzzy warmth. You liked his apartment, it felt like a proper home.

“You should get some sleep,” Spencer murmured softly, shifting a bit to let you lay down.

You frowned slightly, hesitating before mumbling, “You should stay out here with me. I don’t like sleeping by myself. And I’m really comfortable on you.”

Spencer paused only briefly before relaxing again, “Okay, but you need to let me get up so I can change out of my work clothes.” And to move you to not the couch.

You groaned dramatically before sitting back up and letting him go to his room to change. When he exited the room, rather than sitting down with you again, he grabbed your hand and brought you with him to his room, letting you sit down on his bed.

“As much as you seemed to like the couch, I think my bed is probably a lot more comfortable and you won’t have to deal with any discomfort from sleeping on a couch when you wake up tomorrow,” he explained, his lips pulling into that kind, tight lipped smile that he tended to get when he was in some way nervous about what he’s said or done.

You hummed, flopping over onto his bed and yawning slightly, “Thank you.”

As he slipped into the bed beside you, you relaxed against him once more. If it was anyone else, you would have felt a strange sleeping in their bed entirely platonically, but with Spencer you simply felt like you did as a child, back when you’d fall asleep against his shoulder during class or recess. Had you been any less inebriated, or even put more than two seconds of thought into it, you also would have realised that Spencer, the most germ averse person you’d ever met, was letting you sleep in his bed in the clothes you had been sitting on the street in after drinking your mind away, and letting you touch him while doing it. But in the moment, you were only focused on the comfort of his slender hands holding you, the soft sheets he had draped over you both, and the enveloping darkness surrounding you once the light was clicked off.

…

Spencer held you as you slept for a long time, reminded vividly of your shared past as he did so. It was all so painfully familiar he almost didn’t care about the stench of alcohol and cigarettes that clung to your hair and clothes.

Almost.

But he could hardly care, not when you looked so peaceful with him, not when you had asked him so sweetly to stay with you. So instead he simply observed you as though if he didn’t memorise each detail of your sleeping face it would be gone from his mind as soon as he looked away. Logically he knew that couldn’t happen, not with an eidetic memory like his, but he still wanted to keep all the ways your face had changed and all the little ways it stayed the same ingrained in his brain. He gently traced the slope of your nose, which, while similar, was a bit out of place as though it had once been broken. His pale fingers moved over your cheekbones which sat the same, if not more defined with age. Spencer continued to deftly trace each and every feature, lingering where he noticed small differences he wanted to commit to memory, like the lines beneath your eyes that had been exacerbated by years of poor sleep, or the small valley between your brows where your eyebrows spent so much time furrowed together.

For once though, in the time you’ve been together, you looked peaceful. Truly peaceful. Your features softened with sleep and the comfort you had so clearly been denied. In all your efforts to lie and seem put together, you could never fool him. Not even because he was a profiler, though that did play a part, he just remembered your tells from your youth, all the little behaviours he knew like he knew his own mind. It was clear the years had not been kind to you, even if your self destructive habits hadn’t already tipped that off to him. There was a level of hurt behind your eyes that couldn’t be kept back with the walls you so carefully built up, and Spencer knew you’d need to confront it before you broke. He just needed to know how.

However, that was for another night. Now, all he was to do was hold you close and keep you safe.

…………………

Unsurprisingly, you woke up feeling like absolute shit. Your head felt like it was being split in two, and the obnoxious city sounds and the incredibly strong scent of coffee did very little to help with that. As you reluctantly opened your eyes to the morning light, you noticed the glass of water and aspirin set aside for you on the cluttered bedside table. It took a moment, but as you glanced around the cozy, organized chaos of the room, you became vaguely aware that Spencer had taken you home from the bar. Sitting up with a groan of discontent, you took the aspirin and water and swallowed it down quickly before standing up from the bed. You ignored the swirling way your head spun as you made your way out of the bedroom with the grace of a drugged rhino. Which then alerted Spencer to the fact you were no longer passed out in his bed.

“Oh!” He exclaimed with far too much energy so early, as he noticed you emerging from the room, “You’re up.”

“Mhm,” you grumbled, voice hoarse with sleep and lingering discomfort, “Thanks for the aspirin. And the water. And the bed. Y’know what? Just- Thank you, Spencer.”

“You’re welcome, of course, I definitely didn’t want you just dealing with a hangover the way you seem to deal with most things. Y’know, without any help or much of any support at all really,” He explained, the pace of his words a bit too quick as he gestured vaguely with his hands.

You scoffed a bit before scrubbing your hand over your face and offering him a small smile, which he returned, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“I can get going now, if you want. I don’t really know what time it is, but you probably have work and I feel like kind of a dick invading like this and making you do all this shit for me. Besides, it’s probably smart for me to get back home, I need to water my plants and probably work on- I dunno, something, I probably have work to do that I can’t think of right now,” You huffed a small, self deprecating laugh.

“Well, if you want to go home, you can definitely leave, I won’t stop you, but I was actually wanting to talk to you about what happened last night, if you would be willing to?” He stammered, that endearing nervousness radiating off him in waves.

For a moment, you debated just up and leaving. You most definitely weren’t looking to delve into why you were getting drunk off your ass on a random night. Or getting into fights. Or going home with random guys just to not be alone. None of that seemed appealing, not while in full tip-top health, and definitely not while hungover. However, Spencer looked so hopeful and so genuinely worried that it tugged at your heartstrings just enough to keep you there. Besides, maybe it would be nice to be vulnerable with someone, and if it had to be anyone, Spencer was the person for that. He was the only person you really had right now. And you really weren’t looking to push him away again.

So you nodded instead, earning a hopeful smile from Spencer.

“I made you some tea,” He offered you a mug, “It’s the closest to what you get at the coffee shop, but I didn’t have the exact same kind of tea.”

“Thank you,” You told him genuinely as you took the mug, the comforting warmth enveloping your hands.

Grabbing his own coffee, Spencer brought you to his couch, setting out coasters for when and if you sat your mug down. Settling into the spot you sat mere hours before, you stared across at his kind brown eyes as he studied you intently. He had on a front of calm, however it was very clearly a front, as his fingers tapped at his mug incessantly.

“Why were you at O’Keefe’s last night?: He asked, trying desperately to not sound like he was interrogating you.

“Getting drunk, I think we went over that last night?”

“Well, yes, obviously,” He chuckled nervously, “But I meant why? I mean, when we first saw each other again you were also getting drunk but that was due to stress from your job, which you told me twice after the fact. So why were you drinking last night?”

“I was, uh, trying to forget some shit.” You sipped your tea gingerly, allowing the hot liquid to calm your nerves and soothe the ache in your head.

“But what? You don’t really seem like the type to drink daily, not that you can always tell, but you don’t show the signs of someone who gets blackout drunk constantly,” Spencer explained.

“I don’t. I just-” You sigh, hesitant to explain, “When I do drink, which is like, once every month or maybe every three or four weeks, I get really drunk. I save it to cash it all out on one night, y’know?”

“Okay,” He nodded.

“Look,” You started after a deep gulp of tea, trying to lay things out as concisely and vaguely as possible, “Yesterday was the anniversary of when I officially left Vegas, and Nevada as a whole, and I haven’t been back since. It doesn’t bring back great memories that I do not want to get into, so I wanted to drink and have a good night with someone and not fall asleep alone and cold because I just really fucking hate that. So I drank, and I was gonna go home with a guy until he started drinking a lot and I was like, hell no, and didn’t.”

Spencer nodded kindly, the most understanding look in his eyes despite the furrow in his brow.

“Why did you get into a fight?”

“Fuck, is this an interrogation?” You muttered without thinking, sipping the tea in an attempt to chase away the hangover migraine that the constant questions were only aggravating.

“What? No, no, of course not, I just want to understand, I don’t want you getting yourself into dangerous situations that you don’t need to be in. And a lot of cases can start a lot like someone young and alone who is inebriated who gets approached by someone charismatic and appealing, and I would very much prefer if you stayed safe and did not end up as a photo in an investigation,” Spencer explained in one breath, setting down his coffee as to not jostle it as his hands moved, “You don’t need to keep telling me, I’m sorry if I was prying too much, it was just extremely worrying for you to call me like that and then to see you drunk and bloody without explanation.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding. Spencer would never intentionally try to piss you off or hurt you in any way, he just worried and wasn’t great at expressing his emotions. He always had been like this.

“No, no, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t’ve snapped. You’ve been way too nice already, I’m sorry,” Your voice was little more than a grumble, but you were genuine as you possibly could be, “I barely remember what started the fight, it started verbally, y’know? And when I wanna be mean I can be a fucking dickhead, so I was yelling at some guy for probably no good reason, I dunno, so he punched me. I hit back, and y’know, fight ensues,” you shrugged, sipping your tea, your fingers itching to grab a cigarette, but no matter how nice it could be, you would never smoke around Spencer when you knew how much he hated it.

“Nothing hurts, right? Or, well, more than it should? I know a split lip can’t be pleasant while talking, but other than that, you’re not in pain?” He asked tentatively, setting his hand between you with seemingly little thought.

You set your hand atop his gently, managing a tight lipped smile as a full one would most definitely make the split lip sting terribly, “I’m okay Spencer, thank you for helping. Just hungover as hell and suffering the consequences of my actions,” You chuckled self deprecatingly, setting down your mostly empty mug.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. The water and aspirin helped a lot, so did the tea. I think my best choice is probably to just sleep it off as best I can in a dark room with no other input, y’know?”

Spencer practically beamed at your thanks, and your assurance you were feeling alright, “I understand,” He nodded, “As long as you stay properly hydrated, oh and eat, that’s probably smart,” He added, “It will help a lot.”

“Yeah, this definitely ain’t my first rodeo. You’re sweet, though.”

“I took the day off so you can stay as long as you like. You don’t need to, but getting punched in the face and repeatedly hit cannot have positive effects while paired with a hangover, and I think it might benefit you to not get onto a crowded subway or walk around in a busy street when all of that stimuli will just seem so much worse.”

“I don’t wanna overstep or stay too long. I’m not great at telling when I’m not wanted around,” You explained tensely.

“Then it’s great that I’m too blunt for my own good. If you get to be too much for whatever reason, I’ll let you know,” He smiled, and damn him because that smile was just bordering on teasing to the point that you caught it and understood his schemes to be able to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed or hurt or whatever the hell if you left.

And so you stayed.

…

The day was peaceful and soft and caring and all the good things you wouldn’t accept on most occasions. Spencer let you stay in his room with the curtains pulled and the lights turned out as he kept the rest of the house silent, save for the occasional sounds of pages flipping or footsteps as he went about his day reading and checking in on you. As suspected, you slept most of the day away, only waking when Spencer brought you water, which he was correct that you didn’t drink enough of, and it helped greatly. It was domestic bliss with a man you had known in what felt like an entirely separate life, and yet it felt natural as breathing in practice.

When night fell, he inevitably returned you home, leaving you with a tight but hesitant hug and a promise that you would see each other again soon. As soon as you set foot in your dreary apartment, life only represented by the succulents and plants you forced yourself to care for, you regretted leaving the cozy domesticity of Spencer’s apartment. Where yours was cold, decorated only with necessities and plants, his books and posters and weird art made his home truly feel like a home, rather than a living space.

As you laid in bed, finally having showered and changed into fresh clothes, you found yourself staring at the polaroids hung beside your bed, tracing the details of your younger self’s face with your eyes, and craving desperately the comforting touch of the boy who accompanied you in those photos, who had cared for you for the past few days.

#criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x m!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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lamusedhermes · 3 months ago

Text

Academic advices from a (non american) law student.

Premise: I feel the urge to underline the fact that I am not American nor attend any university in America due to the fact that most tips and tricks I found, coming from Americans, were scarce in terms of concrete application. If you found them to be useful, then I am more than glad. All I wish to do is to share different experiences and approaches to the university world that are maybe differing from the usual content.

I. “Time restricted” spaced repetition: the great majority of the subject in my curriculum are quite complex and portray a large number of complex topics, Latin terms, and regulations that are specific. What I suggest here is to write down in a fun colour (to me it is red) the words, terms, names and phrases that are difficult for you to remember. We are not born all knowing, and some terms can be, at first glance, peculiar or unusual. That is completely normal. Therefore, write down anything that you may struggle to remember and every day, you do your best to recall those specific terms, and over the span of even two days you will most likely incorporate even the most difficult words.

II. Repeat out loud: in my university, we do not have written exams. Therefore, practicing your speech for the exam is fundamental for us. However, even if your exams are not oral, explaining out loud subjects helps you remember them better (even if you give a look to your notes from time to time). Do this from day one of preparation. My favourite way of doing so is to repeat everything when outside, while on a walk or at a cafe.

III. Mental connections: chances are, some topics will be repeated in different ways in the same subject. For instance, the concept of inter-subjective laws was discussed three times in this one course, and each time a different aspect was discussed. What I am suggesting is that, when a particular topic or word comes up often, you force yourself to do two things: first, you do a repetition exercise in which you repeat where and when was that topic already mentioned, and second, you differentiate between the two. Why are they different, how are they different and in what ways they are similar.

IV. During the lectures: our professors do not record lectures, nor do they use any platform to “stream” them. If it is possible for you, attend the lectures! Take careful notes and correct them right away, after the lectures has finished! Ask those questions, no matter how “silly” they may be! The professor is right there for you, so you might as well use the opportunity to enrich your knowledge.

V. The notes: print them. Not only will your eyes thank you, but I find studying from paper more effective and it is easier to focus. Call me a grandma, but that is the truth. And if correcting some parts is the reason you prefer digital, try to simply cover the parts tg at you wish to rewrite eight plain paper and write the correction on it. This way the topic will be easier to be remembered.

VI. Audiobook: this may sound unusual, but listening to your notes can be quite beneficial. Due to me being a student, I have free access to the Microsoft package: world has this “read aloud” feature, and I play the audio during the night. The subconscious mind is much more powerful than what you may think of it.

VII. Grades: obviously we all aim for the greatest grades, but often the way we are graded may be out of your control. Sometimes you may get sick right before the exam, sometimes the examiner may be irritated and got up already upset with the world, sometimes we could have given better performances. It happens, and it will inevitably make you feel awful and out of place: please, remember to be kind and gentle with yourself. It will be better the next time, but in that moment remember that you are never alone. If you do not wish to talk it out with someone, ask ChatGPT. It really gives comfort and great advices in moments of frustration and disappointment. Do not ruin your life for a temporary moment.

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vodika-vibes · 1 month ago

Note

Hi Vodika,

I saw your post about ideas for post stacis kix. I have one if you want to throw it out the window you can.

What if during the clone war kix ended up getting together with a witch that has a really long life/immortal. They talk about how after the war she will turn his life span to match hers so they can be together forever. But obviously kix goes missing and the witch goes looking for him for all those years and almost gives up hope/gave up that he's still alive until she hears about some guy who looks a bit like a clone.

That's the idea hope it sparks something💖

I Will Wait

Summary: As an immortal, you were warned that you could only share your immortality with one other person. Your mother chose your father. Your grandmother chose your grandfather. Your brother chose his husband. And you chose Kix. Only, before you could actually share your gift with him, he vanished. For years you clung to the glimmer of hope that he might still live, but it’s been 50 years, and you’re starting to give up.

Pairing: Post Stasis Kix x Witch/Immortal! F Reader

Word Count: 2064

Warnings: Angsty in some places

A/N: So the first part is in the reader's POV and the second half is in Kix's POV and there's not really a lot of romance here, but I think it's sweet. I hope you like it! Also, if you're name is on my tag list and you're not getting tagged, I think it's something on your end. Some names I just can't tag.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You never thought that you would become that witch.

The one who lives in the woods, with nothing more than the animals you need to stay alive.

And yet, here you are.

Your only companionship, these days, are the chickens and cows you need for eggs and milk. Oh sure, sometimes your brother visits with his husband and their three kids, but those visits are becoming more and more rare now that the kids are adults in their own right.

You can’t stand the pitying looks that they give you.

And, on the most recent visit, your brother-in-law tried to sit down with you, to talk to you about how you can’t wait for Kix forever. That, as a clone, the odds of Kix having survived the war in the first place are astronomically low, but that it’s been 50 years and even if Kix had survived the war, he clearly didn’t want anything to do with you—

Well, you didn’t appreciate that conversation.

And your brother didn’t appreciate the fact that you broke his husband’s nose.

That was the last time your brother visited. Sure, he admitted that his husband was out of line, but he was just trying to help. Your brother also admitted that his husband’s brand of help wasn’t very helpful. Your brother-in-law reached out, once, to apologize.

But the damage had already been done.

You elected to bar your home from your brother’s family.

At this point, the only people who visit you are the women of the local village. They come to you for advice and medical care. And, on two separate occasions, help getting away from their abusive husband.

You’ve not been labeled “witch” as of yet, but you know it’s only a matter of time.

For now, though, the mothers of the village are happy to let you watch their children while they’re working. It’s a fair trade, in the end. The children get an education, as you teach them letters and numbers and how to recognize poisonous mushrooms from the safe ones, and as payment the village gives you cloth, to make clothes out of, and seeds, to grow in your garden.

“Miss!” One of the little boys chirps as he scrambles over to you covered in dirt and leaves, as little children are meant to be, “I finished tilling your garden!”

You smile at him, “Very helpful, thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” He beams at you, showing off his missing front teeth, “Can I plant the seeds now?”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a reading lesson?”

“Not really, reading is hard. The words get all jumbled and mixed up.”

You nod your understanding, “Alright. Well, I think I want to grow tomatoes this year. The seeds are in the shed.”

His grin widens before he turns and runs off to the shed, and you watch as he pulls open the door and vanishes into the structure, before you turn to look at his mother, who’s sitting across from you sipping some tea.

“Is the tea helping?”

The woman, older looking than much younger than you in truth, releases a relieved sigh, “Much better, yes.” She sets the mug on the table and places her hand over her swollen stomach, “The nausea wasn’t half as bad last time,” She admits with a laugh.

“I’ll make some packets for you to make at home. It’s just ginger and lemon, so it won’t cause any issues in the long run.”

“What would we do without you,” She shakes her head, “Honestly, at this point you offer better medical care than the doctor does.”

You wave your hand dismissively, “Ginger works for nausea, but you need antibiotics for other things.”

“True enough,” She agrees, “I’m so glad that you worked with the village doctor to convince people that vaccines are necessary.” The woman falls silent as she picks up her mug and takes another sip, “Oh, have you heard?”

You glance up from your knitting, “I don’t get much news out here.” You don’t even have a radio, it’s just too depressing.

“Oh, right.” She clears her throat, “Well, rumor has is that there’s a clone working with the Resistance.”

You lower the sweater you’re making, “A clone? As in from the Clone Wars?”

“The one and the same.” She leans in, “You have to wonder where’s he been, right? I mean, all the clones should be dead by now.”

“Not all of them,” You murmur, thinking about Boba Fett on Tatooine and the Skirata Clan on Mandalore, “but most of them.”

“Can you imagine having been alive when they were all over the place?” She leans in like she’s sharing a secret, “My grandmother says that they were all incredibly attractive.”

A small smile lifts your lips, the memory of Kix leaning against the wall next to you as he whispers future plans in your ear drifting to the front of your mind for a moment, “Well,” You reply as you lift your sweater, “Jango Fett was an attractive man, or so they say.”

The conversation cuts off there, as her son pokes his head out of the storage, “Miss! I can’t reach the seed bags.”

“Alright, I’m coming.”

But, even as you head towards the shed, you can feel the stirrings of hope in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, Kix is still alive.

“You’re really good at this,” Fin says cheerfully as he sits on a table and watches Kix work, “Like, you’re not even looking.”

Kix pauses from where he’s assembling a rifle, and shoots the younger man a look, “Would you have to look to assemble it?”

“No,” He shrugs, “But I was a Stormtrooper.”

“And the Stormtroopers were based on the Clone Troopers.” Kix reminds him, as he snaps the last piece into place, “But would it kill you to teach Rey and Poe about weapon maintenance?”

“Probably.” Fin replies, “I’m still working on teaching Rey that showering daily is a thing she can do.”

“You should probably leave that to Leia...uh, General Solo. Sorry.”

Fin makes a face, “She’s easier than dealing with Poe, honestly. You know he uses a grease rag to wipe sweat off his face?” The younger man sounds genuinely aggrieved about that fact.

“That’s what grease monkeys do, Fin. That hasn’t changed in the last 50 years, and it probably never will.”

“If your brothers tried to clean their face using a grease rag, would you let them get away with it?”

“Hell no. I’d kick their asses. But you’re nicer than me.” Kix sets the newly assembled rifle down on the table, and picks up the next one. This one is actually clean, probably one of Fins.

“Can I ask you a question?” Fin asks, after a moment of silence.

“Sure, but I might not answer.”

“Right, right.” He pauses and shifts uncomfortably, “Do you miss them? Your brothers, I mean. And your old General?”

Kix pauses, and then he sighs, “You know, you’re the first person to actually ask.”

“Yeah, well...you’re kind of intimidating.”

“I miss them everyday.” Kix says with a tired smile, “The General, my General, wasn’t the man he turned into. I never knew the man he became. I wish Luke and Leia had met the man I knew.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” Fin hesitates, “Actually, I have another question.”

“Yeah?”

“Does it make me a bad person for missing my...my brothers too?”

At that, Kix sets the rifle he’s been messing with back on the table, “You mean the soldiers you were raised with.”

“Yeah. We weren’t...weren’t brothers, not like you and your brothers. But I lived with them. Trained with them. Spent every waking moment with them—”

“Blood doesn’t matter so much, in the long run, Fin.” Kix interrupts, “And anyone who tells you that you’re a bad person for missing your family? They’re not worth your time.”

“But—”

“And if they continue, send them to me. I’ll set them straight.”

“...you know you’re actually terrifying, right?”

“Good.”

The two former soldiers fall silent for a moment, and the Fin speaks, “So...did you have a girl, before?”

“We’re not having this conversation.”

“You did! What was she like?”

Kix sighs, “She was…kind. Warm. Good.”

“Have you reached out to her?” Fin asks, and then he pauses, “Oh, right, 50 years. She’s probably a grandmother now.”

Kix laughs softly, “No. No she wouldn’t be. But no, I didn’t. I don’t even know where she is. She’s always preferred a nomadic life.”

“You must miss her?”

“I miss a lot of things, Fin. If I had to stand here and list them all, we’d be here all day.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re curious. That’s not a bad thing.” He smirks, “Just really kriffing annoying.”

Fin laughs, “Thanks, that’s my superpower.”

Kix flashes a small smile, “You know, you’d have fit right in with my brothers, Fin.” And his grin widens as Fin ducks his head bashfully.

Fin might not be a vod but he’s pretty damned close, in Kix’s opinion. And, for now, that’s good enough.

And so, time moves on, and Kix slowly adjusts to the modern time, and the similarities...as well as the differences.

Then, early one morning, General Leia Solo stops him while he’s on his way to the shooting range. She has an odd look on her face, “Kix,”

“Ma’am?”

It’s hard to look at her and not see Anakin and Padme, so Kix tries not to look at her when she talks to him.

“You have a visitor.”

“...I do?”

“Yes, you were asked for by name.” She watches him for a moment, “Follow me.” She leads him through the base, and then stops in front of one of the receiving rooms far away from the war room. “In here.”

“Thanks,” Kix replies, waiting until she leaves before he pushes open the door.

He knows who she is the moment he sees her.

She looks the same, after all.

Well, her hair is a little longer, and her clothes look like they’re handmade, rather than store bought.

But it’s still her.

“Cyare?” The pet name falls from him without his permission as he steps into the room properly, and allows the door to shut behind him.

She turns to look at him, and for a moment she just watches him, and then a smile lifts her face. The same smile he fell in love with all those years ago. “Kix, you’re actually here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I—” He trails off as a lump forms in his throat, “Cyare, I’m sorry I’m late.” He swallows around the lump, “I got lost.”

Her smile widens and she moves closer to him, stopping only a couple of inches away from him, “It’s okay,” She reaches up and brushes her fingers against his jaw, “The road has a lot of twists, and you showed up eventually.”

“I just...I really wanted to marry you, cyare.”

“Do you no longer want to?” She asks, her voice light.

“Of course I do. But...it’s been fifty years—”

Understanding crosses her face, “Oh, you silly man. I would have waited forever for you to come back to me.”

She moves a little closer to him, until her chest is pressed against his, and her other hand comes up to press against his cheek. Kix can’t help himself from cradling her face as well, wanting—needing—her as close as possible.

“You still love me?” He asks.

“I never stopped.” She replies.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

Kix presses his forehead against hers, she’s smells of something vaguely floral, and he has a million questions he wants to ask, but he can’t seem to get a single one to form, “I missed you so much.” He says instead, “Even when I wasn’t aware, on some level I still missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She whispers, “Every second of every day, I missed you.”

“How did you survive?” Kix blurts, “Palpatine—”

“—Never knew about us.” She reassures, “We remained hidden, and safe.”

“Good. That’s—that’s good.” Kix didn’t even realize that had been weighing on him, but now that he knows she’s safe, he finds himself leaning heavily against her, “Cyare?”

“Hm?”

“Will you marry me?”

And a laugh falls from her pretty lips, “Of course I will, Kix. I love you, after all.”

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#star wars #star wars legends #post stasis kix x reader #kix x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 2 years ago

Text

Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

Dreams can tell a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Baul (for a second), Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches), gender neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, Chapter 7 spoilers, hurt/comfort, some General Vanrouge

Content Warning; Chapter 7 spoilers, war, death (talk, I don't describe it), angst? (idk man)

Word Count; 5.5 K

Don't put my works into AI, as AI steals in order to "create".

Sebek's Story | Malleus's Story

The Thorn Fairy had gifted a blessing to the fae, a blessing of soul matches.

A connection forged between two souls. Such a connection is rare, and different variations do occur; primarily in beastmen and merfolk. Each clan had their unique soul match bonds. And the fae were no different. However, their history was not written down on paper, or carved into the corals. The information and history of fae soul matches was an oral history, passed down from generation to generation through hushed tones.

To outsiders, they shrugged it off as just another odd behaviour of the clan, but the fae had good reason to be wary. In the past, the knowledge of fae soul matches was shared with an outsider, and because of that blunder of misplaced trust, the royal family was targeted. But that was many a queen’s reign ago. But the fae do not forget such transgressions, no; that story, that history, is used as a warning. Tell no one but whom you would trust your life with any information regarding your soul match, lest it be used against you. No one outside of the fae, save for their soul match, is to know of this most treasured bond.

Despite the secretiveness of fae soul matches, they were celebrated once they manifested themselves, as they were a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. There is a catch though; due to their long life spans, it can take years, decades, or even centuries in the very rare and unfortunate cases, for the bond between soul match partners to manifest itself. The only thing more unfortunate than it taking centuries is if their soul match were human… for a human lifespan is only a fraction that of even the more short-lived fae clans. It was seen as a tragedy, a doomed pairing from the beginning, with a heartbroken fae as the only possible answer. Such pairings were pitied, and seen as bad luck.

But what does the bond between soul matches take the form of within the fae? What does the Thorn Fairy’s blessing of soul matches look like?

There are many speculations on that. Many scholars say it is a mark on the body; a mole, or three scratches. But that is not correct. It is not a shared song, a stone messenger, or a coloured thread on their finger. And there is a written record of the bond as well; one just has to dig deep into the records, scrolls, and tomes that exist within the library of the former castle of the Draconia’s.

It is also a melody, a hum on the lips of many fae if by chance you are able to hear it. I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. The soul match bonds between the fae and their match took the form of shared dreams, tinted the colour of their soul. They cannot truly see the other, or speak to each other, but the gleam in their eyes is one that will stay in their mind, as it is so familiar a gleam.

…

Rest is a luxury, a luxury that Lilia could not spare. The war would not wait for the general to be well rested, or wait for him to have a nap. No, it would continue until it either ended with one side coming out the victor, or it would end with peace negotiations. Rest can wait. But the fae in his company were sleeping, and he was on the first watch.

But there was something else which made him avoid resting; his dreams. His dreams were black and white, devoid of any colour, and he was always alone in them. Yes, there may be other people, but they didn’t interact. His soul match was nowhere to be seen. Three hundred years and there has been absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t alone on watch duty though, Baul was beside him, staring out into the dark.

“You need to rest,” he huffed, shooting a look towards Lilia from the corner of his eye.

Lilia quirked a brow, but his gaze did not waver from the darkness of the forest. There was something out there, waiting. “I can rest when this is over.” His voice was cold, sharp, like that of a blade. “I cannot rest while a war is still being fought on our lands.”

Baul pushed his shoulders back and turned his eyes back to the darkness of the forest. “General, if you do not rest, it will eventually catch up to you. Whether you like it or not.”

He was right, if Lilia did sleep, it would eventually catch up with him in the worst possible moment. The last thing that he needed was to fall into a microsleep in the middle of battle. Thirty seconds of vulnerability in the heat of conflict could spell the very end for him. He let out a tired sigh, “I suppose you are right. When our shift is over I can rest.”

After an uneventful night watch, save for the crack of a stick in the distance — which turned out to be nothing more than just a deer passing through — Lilia turned in for the night in his tent. He stared up to the ceiling, and tried to fall asleep, but the harder he tried the more difficult it became, but eventually exhaustion won over frustration and Lilia fell asleep.

His dream was black and white, as always. They have been devoid of colour for the past three hundred years, so why would they be any different now?

He was a child again, playing in a flower meadow with Malenoa and Levan. Well, Malenoa was playing whereas Levan had been dragged along against his will. And Lilia? Well, wherever the crown princess went, he followed; part of it being that they were friends, the other being that he was raised alongside her and swore to protect her.

“Lilia! Come on,” Malenoa shouted from across the glen, a big smile on her face. “Last one to the thicket is a rotten egg!” And she took off, dragging Levan behind her, the young boy letting out an undignified squawk.

Lilia gave chase, a peel of laughter escaping his lips. “That’s not fair! You got a head’s start!” He eventually caught up to the two royals at the large rose thicket on the outskirts of the meadow. “I guess I’m the rotten egg,” he huffed before sitting down next to a dishevelled looking Levan.

He didn’t really understand why the Thorn Fairy had bonded them together, Malenoa and Levan couldn’t be more opposite of each other. But soul matches do work in mysterious ways… But Lilia wondered when the Thorn Fairy would place that blessing onto him. He had spent, and would spend, his life serving the royal family after the queen had taken him in, so why didn’t the first of the royal bloodline deem him worthy?

Malenoa was looking at the roses until she found one that she liked. She plucked it from the stem, whispered a quiet thank you to the briar patch, and then placed it behind Lilia’s ear. A baby pink rose, but he could not see the colour of the flower, only that it was pale. A stark contrast against Lilia’s jet black hair.

“What’s that for,” he asked but did not dare remove the flower. He should have been used to Malenoa’s antics by now, but she still caught him off guard despite their time spent together.

Malenoa hummed, “Pink suits you, plus since you were the rotten egg, you stunk so badly that you needed the rose to cover up the smell.” She stuck out her tongue and pinched her nose with her fingers, giggling. “A stinky, stinky egg! Right, Levan?”

Levan looked tired, but he nodded his head. “Unfortunately it seems so.” He coughed, trying to cover up the chortle that nearly escaped his lips.

The easy nature of the dream shifted, the briars from the rose thicket separating Lilia from Malenoa and Levan. The thicket then caught on fire, smoking out the dream (the memory?) in a thick, dark, smoke.

Lilia woke with a start, and placed his hand over his heart. It was beating fast, and he was covered in sweat. He then heard a commotion coming from outside, and it wasn’t the usual squabbling he heard as people tried to barter over the best breakfast options.

He strided out into the camp, and he didn’t make it very far until one of the soldiers came clamouring over to him, tripping over their feet in the process.

“G-general!” They heaved, looking pale. “N-news! From the front lines!” They handed him a scroll before taking back off to their tent.

Lilia opened the scroll and his eyes froze, pupils contracting into harsh slits. The parchment crumpled in his tight fist, but he regained his composure. They had a war to end, but Lilia’s mission had shifted from that of victory for country. It had shifted to justice; to serve justice to the murders of Malenoa. For his friend, his family, for Levan, and for her unhatched egg; the hope, and now only future, for the Draconias.

…

Another four hundred years had passed, and Lilia’s dreams were still black and white. And where he may have had been bitter in his younger years, he no longer held that resentment. Yes, he still questioned why he had not received a soul match, but he had accepted that it was simply not to be. Besides, he now had more meaning in his life. He had been many things in his life; a friend, a soldier, an advisor, and now, a father. The silver haired baby that he had found years ago, Silver, was everything Lilia could ever really ask for. He loved Malleus, but not to the same degree as Silver; Malleus was the heir to the throne above all else.

Lilia was content with how things currently were, happy even. He had found his purpose.

“Hmm, this school year should prove interesting,” he hummed to himself. The ceremony was today, and it proved to be a most interesting one at that. He did wonder what the newcomer, the one not suitable to any dorm, would do. They didn’t seem like the type to just leave things alone. He shook his head though, and made himself comfortable in his bed, turning in for the night.

He was in the meadow of his youth again, but it was now overgrown. The vines from the rose thicket choking out all of the other flowers and grasses. And all but one rose was withered away. And this single rose was pink. Lilia could see colour, and the pink bled into the rest of the dream, casting everything in a rose-tinted light.

After seven hundred years, the Thorn Fairy had finally answered his call. And everything was pink. “After all this time, now you have decided they can enter my life,” he whispered, looking directly at the rose.

If he were younger, he would have been overjoyed, but Lilia knew that he did not have the commodity of time at his side. Despite the fae’s long lifespan, he was old, and his magic reservoir was running low. And the bitterness that he had since forgotten reappeared. “Why would you put them through this?”

He turned on his heel, but stopped. At the edge of the meadow was his soul match, he could not make out their face, appearance, nor their voice, but he knew it was them. “You should leave.” His words were not spoken, but were instead written in the air in glowing pink letters. But instead of turning around and leaving, they took a step forward, and then another, before coming to rest in front of Lilia.

“Who are you,” their words were written in pink letters, just like his. And even though he could not see their face, he could distinctly tell they wore an expression of confusion. “And why is everything pink?”

Lilia woke up to the sounds of his alarm going off, ripping him out of the dream. Why is everything pink? His soul match didn’t know what the colour ment, which could only mean one thing; his match was not fae. His soul match was mortal. And that revelation made a lump form in his throat.

He was worried about his soul match outliving him, that the possibility that he would outlive them never crossed his mind. Why had the Thorn Fairy chosen them? Why did she gift him an ending that would end in heartbreak?

…

Ever since finding yourself in Twisted Wonderland you started keeping a dream journal. Alongside the weird, and sometimes downright disturbing, dreams about future overblots, you had rose-tinted ones with a stranger in them. But they kept their distance. And you hadn’t found any answers for them.

“Human!” The sharp shout from Sebek tore you away from your thoughts, as the first-year student was incredibly… loud. “Do you know how rude it is to ignore somebody when they are talking?! Did you not sleep last night?!”

In the few months that you’ve been stuck here, you came to call the abrasive Diasomnia student a reluctant friend. He may be prickly, but it was his own way of showing that he cared… in his own roundabout way which usually involved yelling and non-intentional insults.

Did you not sleep last night?! Yes, but it was anything but restful.

You were in the midst of a battlefield, which was now long over. The only evidence being the hollow armour of warriors long fallen. And, as in all of your dreams, there were roses everywhere. Their thorny vines creating a wall, trapping you and the pink stranger in together.

This wasn’t your dream, it was their’s… or more like a memory? It was all way too centred in reality, in mourning and loss, to be a dream. What did they live through?

“What happened here?” Your words floated gently in the air and only disappeared when the stranger noticed them.

They picked up a broken spear and held it gently in their grasp. “What do you think? War. War is what happened here.” Their words floated in front of you, and you could see the weight of them on their shoulders. “The dreams of many died here, the only thing remaining of them being the armour that was supposed to protect them.”

What the hell have they lived through? “... were you there?”

The dream shifted, no longer were you standing on a long forgotten battlefield, now reclaimed by nature, but you were now sitting in a dark castle. Not even the pink hue over everything could brighten it.

The stranger went up the stairs. Go away, can you not tell I am not the best person for you? Our story will only end in hurt. But they said none of that, continuing to go up the long winding staircase. “Did you hear me? I asked you if you were there!” You yelled after them, following them up the spiralling staircase until the both of you came to a halt in front of a large wooden door, scorched at the bottom.

“Yes,” the words floated in your face before fading away. “I was there… I led the battle. I led them to death.”

I led them to death. You were sweating buckets, but before you knew what you were doing you wrote down a note in your dream journal

Roses. Thorns. Battle. Magic. War. You had no real idea what it all meant, but it was somewhere to start. A step in the direction of figuring what it all meant

“No,” you said, avoiding Sebek’s concerned gaze, “I didn’t sleep well… not at all.” You hadn’t slept soundly in weeks. You hadn’t had a pleasant dream since you woke up here. “Nightmares,” you whispered, “night after night. And a stranger, the same stranger, who is avoiding me.”

Sebek’s face paled, and he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Human,” his voice was now quiet, guarded. He led you to a classroom and made sure no one was around. “Are these dreams a certain colour? Do words float in the air? Can you not make out their face?” Even though this was the quietest that he has spoken, it was also the most serious Sebek had been with you.

You nodded your head, “All of that, yes. How did you know?” Your brows pinched, and you let out a deep sigh. “Sebek, if you know something, please, just tell me.”

Sebek was fighting a war in his head; tell the truth to you, or keep the fae soul match a secret. But the dark bags under your eyes told him enough. “You have a soul match, and they are fae. I’m… sorry.”

The bell rang and he was off to his next class, leaving you alone with this world altering information. I have a soul match? They’re fae? … why did he look so sad for me?

…

Lilia noticed something off about Sebek the moment he walked, or rather stormed, to the confines of his room. So, he followed, gently knocking at the door, waiting for an answer.

“May I come in?”

He heard Sebek scramble up and open the door. “Of course, Lilia-sama!” He was just like his grandfather; loud, a bit too stiff for his own good, but loyal, almost to a fault.

Lilia walked over to the bed, and patted the spot beside him. “Come, sit. You seem to be carrying quite the burden.” He had noticed Sebek’s odd behaviour all day, and it wasn’t like him to do so. “Come now, out with it.”

Sebek picked at a loose thread on his bedding, and massaged his temple. “It’s about soul matches.”

Lilia felt the lump in his throat form again. “What about them? They are a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. Who are we to question her decision-”

“A human disclosed that they have a soul match, a fae soul match. And I told them that. I broke the oath to not tell anyone!” Sebek clenched his fists and looked down at the floor. “They aren’t even my soul match, and I told them!”

Lilia placed his hand on Sebek’s back, and started patting him on the back. A gesture that meant everything was going to be okay. “Well,” a breathy chuckle escaped his lips, a soft smile on his face, “they deserve to know what is ahead of them, do they not?”

Like I have been trying to tell mine, but they still have not left it alone. They keep on showing up, night after night.

Sebek seemed to calm down, but there was still a lot weighing heavy in his mind. “It’s not my place to talk. It is for them, and their match to decide. But,” he took a deep breath, and that familiar intensity in his eyes was back, “I can’t help but worry.”

Lilia recognized the look in his pseudo-adopted son’s eyes, it all too well reflected the look Baul would get before battle. And this was Sebek, concerned for a human, which would only mean one thing; whoever they were, they were a friend of his. And that narrowed everything down. Time to do some sleuthing of my own. “They’re strong, most likely stubborn. They shall be fine,” his voice was light, trying to brighten the atmosphere of the room. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

With that, Lilia walked out of the room and softly closed the door. There was something that he needed to do tonight, in his dream.

…

This dream was different from all the others. There were no signs of the thorny brambles of roses. There were no signs of war. No, instead Lilia found himself in the courtyard of Night Raven College, the sun high overhead and a slight breeze playing with loose leaves. This wasn’t his dream; it was his soul match’s. And you were sitting under a tree, looking up at the sky, just watching the clouds pass by.

“This is a nice change of pace,” the pink words drifted slowly in the wind. “Better than nightmares and bad memories.”

Lilia felt a twinge of guilt. Better than nightmares and bad memories. Those were his doing. And instead of him being subjected to your nightmares and memories that you would rather forget, the both of them were here, in a quiet moment in time. There was no war, there was no loss. There was only you and Lilia, and an easy feeling. “You are too kind,” he sighed. Thank you. That is what he meant.

You hummed, “I can’t control my dreams, so it’s really just a fluke.” You sighed and rested your head against the tree, closing your eyes and enjoying the filtered sunlight. “I’m just happy it’s a pleasant one.”

“As am I,” he took a seat next to you and looked up to the sky, watching the clouds aimlessly pass by. I need to tell them. “It is cruel, what the Thorn Fairy has done to you. Gifting you a fae soul match.”

You turned your head towards him. Even though you couldn’t truly see who they were, you could see that they carried a lot on their shoulders. You didn’t say anything though, but instead offered your silence as an indicator for him to continue.

“How much do you know about soul matches?” It is their and their soul match’s decision. He wanted to tell them everything, so that they could decide for themself if they wanted him in their life.

You sighed. So now they decide to tell me? “Pretty much nothin’. Just the basics; soul matches exist, which I can kinda infer what it means, they’re gifted by the Thorn Fairy, and you’re fae. I have found absolutely nothing that even talks about the subject, and nobody but my one friend has mentioned it.”

Nobody but my one friend has mentioned it. Were they friends with Sebek? That would narrow down everything drastically, and would also explain why they were relaxing at Night Raven College in their dream. Lilia knew them. They were already closer than he ever thought.

“So, please,” you turned to look at the stranger, your soul match, eyes gleaming gently. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

So he did, he and you sat under the tree for the entirety of the dream, discussing what soul matches were, the different forms and bonds they come in, and what you could expect from this.

I know you, that look in your eye is so familiar a gleam.

…

Ever since that dream from a few days ago, you have noticed your soul match get more playful and teasing in your dreams. They no longer held you at a distance, it was a drastic but welcomed change. The cold was gone, and instead there was warmth. But something still felt off. With everything that has happened, with seeing each other's dreams and memories, you still didn’t know who they were. And everytime you tried to tell them your name, the words didn’t form. It was annoying.

“Something on your mind, Prefect,” a familiar teasing voice chuckled from behind you. Lilia shot you a teasing smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. He used to startle you whenever he decided to sneak up on you, but you grew accustomed to his playful nature.

You shot him a look, but then shook your head and chuckled. “Just thinking is all. What about you?” You had noticed that Lilia had gotten more lively, the dark cloud that seemed to hang around him for the past few weeks had seemed to vanish. “You seem to be in a more chipper mood,” you chuckled.

He gave you a quiet chortle, the only real evidence of it being the subtle movement of his shoulders and the quiet exhale from his lips. His magenta eyes gleamed softly in the dim lighting of the hallway. They were familiar, but you could have sworn that you had seen them somewhere before, but the answer was avoiding you.

“Just a lot has happened is all, and it brought a surprise with it.” Lilia was cryptic, but it was a part of his odd charm. A mix of something old beyond your years, and a more youthful impishness. It was endearing.

He reminded you of somebody, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. “Fine then, old man, keep your secrets. One day I’ll make you spill.”

The two of you exploded with laughter, and Lilia patted you on the shoulder. “Maybe someday. I’ll be looking forward to it, Prefect.” He waved you goodbye as he made his way to his next class. Leaving you alone in the hallway.

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to your next class, History of Magic, where Trein was preparing on his lecture to tell the first years about the fae-human wars. Something that you had already witnessed the aftermath of, despite not knowing it at the time. After all, that’s what that one dream was about; the one of the meadow, the rose briars, and the rusting armour laying half buried in the earth. But you didn’t know the true horrors of war, and your soul match made sure that you would never have to witness what he had.

…

You were back in the meadow, in the middle of the fray. No longer were the rusted armours and broken weapons half buried, their wielders were alive again, and you were caught in the middle of it. The sky was an angry shade of pink, and thunder rumbled ominous in the distance… nope that was cannon fire.

Everything was absolute chaos, and you were thankful that nothing could harm you in the dreams, but that didn’t make you flinch any less whenever a ghost arrow flied through the air. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call you the ghost. You weren’t going to dwell on that though, since you didn’t want to push your luck. Something you seemed to be in short supply of.

You saw a flash in front of you, and a bat-masked figure was in front of you, glowing red eyes staring at you, before running back into the battle. Even though this was a dream, you could have sworn that they saw you. And then you were ripped away from the battle ground, being pulled up by your underarms. Looking up you saw the fuzzy and distorted visage of your soul match, pulling you away from danger.

“What were you doing?!” They snapped at you. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could infer their tone and emotion from their body language and you know, hauling your ass away from danger.

You patted their forearm, and looked back down to the flashes of magic and metal gleaming in the waning light of the setting sun. “Were you here? This is more than a dream, isn’t it? This is a memory.”

Dreams are often a flight of fancy, but for Lilia, and for you, they were more than randomly concocted scenarios played out by the sleeping mind. These dreams held truth, the dreams were memories. And this memory showed the most impactful one.

“How many?”

That statement could mean so many things. It could mean how many battles. How many lives were lost. How many lives had he taken. “Too many to count,” is what he decided on saying. It was true though, Lilia had lost count of how many times he had done all of those things. “You must think of me as cruel,” a sad yet harsh laugh left his mouth, and he looked down at you. “A monster.”

You looked back. There was sadness in your match’s eyes, but also a tiredness. “I don’t think you’re a monster, or cruel though.”

Lilia looked into your eyes. You were being honest, sincere, and your eyes showed that. They were the only part of you that he could clearly make out. They were familiar, they were warm. “I am down there though, leading the assault… against the humans.” Against you.

“The past is the past. What is done, is done. We can’t change that.” Leading the assault… didn’t Professor Trein talk about the wars today? “I won’t judge you based on your past, especially if you’re super old which I know pretty well that your are, gramps. But you can’t change it. It has left its scars, but what matters most is the present and what lies ahead.”

You were right, and Lilia felt foolish to let that small part of himself, the insecurity of not being wanted, fester. “I’m the old one? You sound far more wiser than your years… you whippersnapper.”

The battle faded away, and the two of you floated down to the meadow. It had morphed, morphed back into the meadow of Lilia’s youth; filled with wildflowers, grasses, and the rose thicket was in full bloom. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the laughter of a young girl in the breeze as a raven flew overhead.

…

Lilia needed to find you. Your dreams were filled with premonitions, and they sat heavy in his mind at the repercussions they could make. They sent off alarm bells in his mind. Lilia was in a tizzy. I have to find them.

His magic was running out, and he knew that his lifespan had shortened drastically. He would be lucky to live another sixty or seventy years, which was nothing in the eyes of many fae. But that was a human lifetime. A lifetime that could be spent with not just Silver and Sebek, but you. He wanted to find you. He didn’t care what form your soul match bond took; be it like the relationship of family, of friends, or of lovers. He wanted to find you, needed to find you.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Those eyes, they were the only part of you that he could ever make out. Eyes filled with mischief, responsibility, curiosity, and kindness. He knew those eyes. They were your eyes, the Ramshackle Prefect’s eyes. How could I be so blind?

It made all too much sense. The dreams had only started when you showed up. He felt drawn to you, like a moth to flame. It made sense that you would be the human that had made Sebek drop his guard and tell a human about fae soul matches. It made all of the sense in the world. And it had taken until now for him to realise. Perhaps he really was an ‘old man’ and already going senile like you joked, both in and out of the dreams.

That is how he came to find himself at your front door, in the middle of the night, still wearing his hot pink and neon green pyjamas. All because of the one dream, the most recent dream of overblot, and his own realisation of who you truly were. So he knocked three times, and waited for you to come down.

You groaned awake, the faint memory of the dream still weighing heavy on your mind. I can never catch a break, huh? I swear if it’s Ace I’m going to drop kick him. You begrudgingly made your way to the front door, and opened it right as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Lilia?”

What was Lilia doing at your front door? It was like two in the morning… although his bat print pyjamas were pretty great. Was that ‘Bat-tastic’ written in swirly font? Where in Twisted Wonderland had he found that?

“What are you doing here?” Was what you said instead.

“Do you recognize me,” he whispered, taking your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Recognize you? “Your Lilia, of course I recognize you, old man.”

He looked at you, magenta eyes practically glowing in the dark. Familiar magenta eyes. Eyes that held such familiar a gleam… as if you had seen them countless times in your dreams, tinted a paler shade of the colour. “Prefect, have we met before? I could have sworn that I met you… once upon a dream?”

It all made sense. It all made sense. The coldness at first, the memories of war, the playfulness. Why everything was pink. Your match, the perceived stranger, was no stranger at all. They were Lilia.

“So you’re them,” you said softly. “We’re soul matches?”

He shot you a playful wink, “It would seem so. And I’m happy that you are them, and they, you.”

All of those centuries spent alone, wondering why the Thorn Fairy had not granted him the blessing of having a soul match, and then the confusion of finally receiving one after years of nothing, now had an answer. It was you, and Lilia knew that the seven hundred years may have been lonely, but whatever time he had left, he would be more than happy to spend with you.

Fin!

Author's Note; Enjoy this word vomit. If you want to read more, do check out my masterlist.

Tags; @xxoomiii @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996 @identity-theft-101

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #general vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst soulmate au #i had to stop myself from making reader say “cowabummer dude” to lilia #chapter 7 spoilers #wanted to try and explore different parts of lilia #also i want that bat-tastic shirt i know his ass would own one #always nervous posting diasomnia content since uhhhhhh ovo; y'all scare me #enjoy your gilf though #started august 5 ended august 9 2023 #putting my start and end dates in the tags for my own uses #sebek is next and his story SHOULD be more humorous and fluffy #should being the key word; idk what my brain is going to come up with yet #idc if it's overused; i am using the shared dream trope and running with it #if you see grammar mistakes shhhh; no you don't #soul match au #*folds my hands and judges engagement* this decides your future #idk what compelled me to include sebek in this but i did #the series is almost done YIPPEE!!!!

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discordantwritings · 1 year ago

Text

Somewhere Inbetween (Nami + Robin X Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader (Reader is roommates with Robin and Nami though, but let’s be real no more people are fitting in the boys room that place is packed), inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, the inherent mild body horror of Robin’s devil fruit power, oral sex, fingering, slight exhibitionism/ voyeurism, face sitting

WC: 2.3k

Summary: You find out Nami and Robin are a bit more than friends. You find out you want to be a bit more than friends with them too.

Notes: there’s barely plot I just needed women

Tagging: @turtletaubwrites @keiva1000

Considering how close you were to Robin and Nami, and considering how you shared a room with the two of them, you really should have figured this out earlier.

In fairness to you it wasn’t odd for Nami to hold hands with everyone besides Zoro and Sanji. It wasn’t odd for Robin to always be far too close to others with her lack of understanding of personal space. It wasn’t odd for the three of you to even cuddle sometimes- all three of your beds pressed together for a “sleepover” where you all ended up in a comfortable pile.

All of that is to say that Nami and Robin being affectionate with each other was never something you even spared a second thought about. That was until you caught them in one of the storage closets.

In the dark you couldn’t make out much besides Robin’s hand up Nami’s skirt while Nami’s face was buried in the other girl’s neck. There’s a moment where you make eye contact with Robin, those bright eyes almost glowing in the dim light.

It’s really hard to close the door when she smiles at you.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.” Robin says the second her and Nami enter your shared room later that day.

“No it’s- I mean-“ There’s no good way to translate the weird mess of feelings in your stomach as Robin smiles at you apologetically and all you can think about is those long fingers inside-

“No, no it’s our bad.” Nami walks over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down to sit on the bed as she sits on it.

Robin sits on your other side, giving you just enough space to where you’re not touching. “We just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Hi, I’m Robin and this is Nami, my girlfriend?” You joke, managing a smile.

“Well, see, it’s not that easy.” Nami flops back onto the bed as you turn and shoot her a confused look. “We don’t really label it like that.”

“Ok you might have lost me.” You admit, and Robin’s soft touch to your knee brings your attention back to her.

“Neither of us wanted something committed or exclusive. We are there for each other, of course, but with all the pressure of our lives we didn’t want anything to add to that.”

You take in her words and it starts to make sense. “So somewhere between partners and friends with benefits.”

“I knew you would get it!” You hear Nami’s voice behind you. “But we do have to keep it on the down low.”

You look at Robin quizzically and she sighs.

“Sanji.”

Ah, yeah. He’d be insufferable.

“Usopp or Luffy would accidentally reveal it, I’m sure Zoro would taunt Sanji about knowing it, and then I don’t think I could tell Chopper.” Nami explains more.

“Franky knows though.” Robin adds and you hear Nami giggle.

“Yeah he does.”

Your facial expression must be pure shock since Robin giggles behind her hand at you. It’s not your fault you’re suddenly learning a whole lot about your crew mates in the span of a few minutes. You lay back down on the bed, next to Nami.

“I’m going to need like a day to process this all but I’m glad I know.”

“I’m glad you know too.” Nami lays her head on your shoulder as you feel Robin lay down as well.

You’ve laid like this with them dozens of times before but you can’t help the way your mind focuses in on the heat from their bodies and the way you can feel Nami’s breath on your neck. You’ll get over it in a few days, you think, and you can go back to seeing them as your best friends.

That is, until you feel Robin’s hand on your thigh and she’s brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. You turn your head to look at her and she’s giving you that same smile she gave you earlier in the closet and you feel your heart leap up into your chest.

“Can I tell you something?” Robin asks softly, and you nod, not trusting your words.

“Nami and I think you’re very beautiful.”

Both Robin and Nami have given you compliments before but this was different. The low tone of her voice, the way her thumb rubs against the exposed skin on the border of your shorts, Nami’s hand snaking to intertwine her fingers in yours- there’s no way this could be interpreted any other way.

“Certainly not as beautiful as you two are.” You manage, breathlessly.

You feel Nami huff a small laugh into your neck as Robin moves her hand to cup your jaw gently. She holds your face still as Nami’s arm drapes over your midsection.

“Is this okay?” Robin asks as Nami’s nose nudges against your jaw.

You nod, but that isn’t good enough for Robin. “Use your words love, let Nami hear you.”

“Yes, this is- yes.” You’re torn between wanting to move your face forward to kiss Robin or to lean back into Nami’s hold.

Thankfully you didn’t have to choose as Robin leans in and presses her soft lips against yours. The kiss is slow but consuming, skilled slight movements carefully tearing down any remaining hesitance you had. You gasp as Nami nibbles at your neck, her hold around you becoming tighter as she presses her chest to you back.

“Both of us won’t be too much, will it?” Robin asks, a slight teasing tilt to her voice as the hand on your thigh goes up to your hip, playing with the waistband of your shorts.

“We won’t be mean. I mean, not unless you want us to be.” Nami is more outright with her teasing, as she always is, hand pushing your shirt up.

“I can take it.” You say, even if you don’t fully believe yourself.

“I know you’ll be so good for us.” Robin says before kissing you again, but quickly this time before she sits up. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

Robin nods to the center of the bed and you move once Nami lets you go, crawling over until your back hits the headboard. You watch as Nami leans over to Robin, whispering something in her ear while looking at you with a devious smile on her face. You flush as thoughts race through your head about what she could possibly be saying, but most coherent thoughts leave your head as Robin’s fingers move Nami’s chin and the two of them kiss.

Even though you know better it still feels like you’re watching something you shouldn’t. The way Nami’s body gives into Robin’s, the way Robin’s hands travel over Nami’s exposed midsection- it was dizzying to watch. You felt lucky to be in their presence, let alone allowed to be in on the fun.

It’s not long before their attention is turned back to you and you’re suddenly aware of the way you’d been rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction. Nami frowns slightly, and for a moment you feel like you might have done something wrong but she starts crawling over to you, hands quickly at the waistband of your shorts.

“Didn’t mean to leave you out there- can I make it up to you?” Her knee swings over her so she’s straddling your thighs, hands paused over the closure of your shorts as she waits for your response.

“If you want to.” You’re vaugley aware of Robin settling in by your side but all your focus is on Nami as she unbuttons your shorts and pulls them off of you.

Nami shimmies down the bed as she peels your shorts and panties off and you bite your lip as she pushes your thighs apart so she can settle between them. You squirm a bit under her gaze, but before you can move any more copies of Robin’s hands sprout from the bed and hold your waist down. When you first met Robin her powers were unnerving, but now limbs in places they typically shouldn’t be was normal- and now your brain was running away with thoughts of what so many hands could do to you.

“Focus on Nami, love.” Robin whispers in your ear, arguably making it harder to do what she asks.

But when one of your thighs is gently pushed over Nami’s shoulder and you can feel her breath creeping up your inner thigh your attention is held. She kisses her way closer to your core and it’s hard to hold back the whines in your throat as her lips dance right around where you want her most. One of your hands grips the sheets tight as your other is laced in Robin’s, her long fingers grounding you in more ways than one.

Nami’s fingers dip gently into your folds and gather the slick there before holding them up for Robin to see. You would’ve turned away if Robin didn’t sit up and lean forward, taking Nami’s fingers into her mouth and cleaning them off. You were transfixed as Nami took her fingers back and traveled back down, Robin’s saliva easing the way for the two fingers to push inside you. Your head pushes back into the pillow as Nami’s fingers curl inside of you.

Robin kisses against your jaw as she continues to hold you down. You feel her chuckle into your neck when you moan as Nami scissors her fingers wide, stretching you out. Robin moves up slightly, her breath fanning over your ear.

“You should pull on her hair a little, she likes that.” She whispers into your ear.

You release your hand from the sheets and gently settle your fingers in Nami’s bright hair. Hesitantly you tug lightly and are rewarded with a moan. You feel Robin grin against your neck. When Nami’s mouth latches onto your clit you reflexively pull hard and you would apologize if it didn’t make Nami double down in her efforts as you feel her fingers expertly find the spongy spot deep inside you.

“I’m-“ You’ve only had Nami’s mouth on you for seconds but you’re already falling apart, words broken by your whines.

“Come on, don’t hold back now.” Robin’s voice is soft in your ear and that’s all the encouragement you need to let go.

Nami’s mouth never stops, just turns gentler as she brings you back down from your orgasm. You whine when she pulls her fingers out, but smile when she places a kiss on your hip. She drags herself up the bed to your side.

“You taste great baby.” Nami kisses you and you can taste the remnants of yourself on her tongue.

“Can I-“ You’re flushed as your hand moves down to the waistband of her skirt and she grins.

“Yes, you just keep laying there.”

You’re not quite sure what her plan is until Robin’s hands are pulling you a bit further down the bed and Nami is pushing her skirt up. Robin leaves your side as one of Nami’s knees swing over your head and you’re left with a beautiful view over you. Her lower lips are slick as she hovers right above your face, letting you take the lead.

Your hands come up to grip her thighs and you pull her down so she is properly sitting on your face. You can’t help but push your tongue past her folds, tasting her wetness as your nose pushes against her clit. She tastes sweet- an unsurprising fact given how many oranges she eats, but you relish in it all the same. You pull back to breathe for a second, flattening your tongue out against her clit and loving the moan it draws out of her. Her hips rock against your tongue and you’re more than happy to let her use your face.

You almost forgot Robin’s presence entirely until you feel hands pushing and holding your thighs apart. Fingers part your folds as more push into you- two maybe three it’s hard to tell with how overwhelmed your senses are. All you know is you’re slowly getting filled and that you love it.

“Shit- can you just- I just need a little more baby I’m so close-“ You feel Nami’s thighs trembling under your grasp and you pull her even closer to your face and wrap your lips around her clit.

You feel her orgasm as her muscles convulse over you and you lap up every drop of cum she gives you, face slick as you stop her from pulling away before you’re done. After you’ve drunk your fill you release your grip on Nami’s thighs, letting her bring her leg over and sit next to you.

Now that your vision isn’t blocked you look around to find the source of the fingers still pumping in and out of you and you finally locate her. Robin is sitting on one of the plush loveseats Nami stole some time ago, one leg hitched over the armrest as her own fingers plunge into her. Her eyes are almost completely black as she watches you.

The hands holding you push you slightly to give Robin a better view of her work, more fingers added in, pushing you to your limit. You whine and Nami takes your hand and whispers hushed praises to you.

“Doing so well for us baby- Putting on such a good show for Robin-“ You’re close again and you feel another bloomed hand ride up from the bed and take your other hand.

You gush over the countless fingers inside you, fingernails digging into both girls hands as you scream through your intense orgasm. You can hear Robin moan and you curse yourself for not being more aware to see what she looks like when she cums. But your regrets are all forgotten about when she climbs in bed and settles into your side.

“Robin-“ You feel like you should have done something for her but before you can even get that thought out she shuts you down.

“It’s alright darling.” She presses a kiss to your temple as Nami wraps an arm around your midsection and holds you close.

“Next time.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #nico robin x reader #nico robin x you #Robin x reader #nami x reader #nami x you #x reader #discordantwritings

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peterm4rker · 4 months ago

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BLUE'S CORNER !!

how happy it makes me to get tagged in these things is not even funny, but yeah ! i don't have many works to do this with, but i did my best !

FIRST FIC OF 2024 !!

ᯓ ¿donde está la biblioteca? [zhong chenle] — september 9th, 2024.

my first ever post and my absolute baby. this smau is completely self indulgent and was brewing in my head for so long before i actually decided to post it (i was terrified). i'm forever grateful for the people that encouraged me to put it out there !! it helped me find a community that i hold so dearly to my heart now, and i will love them forever !!

LAST FIC OF 2024 !!

ᯓ can't help falling [kim jaehee] — december 29th, 2024.

my first post that isn't nct dream !! i have to say that it is one of my favorite fics i've ever written, and it is also completely self indulgent. jaehee has owned my heart since lastart, and i think he (and nct wish in general) deserve way more love and recognition so i hope i can be part of that !!

LONGEST FIC !!

ᯓ can't help falling [kim jaehee] — 3.7k words.

i'm counting this one because i don't think the smaus count so... i have kind of a hard time writing long fics because i have a nonexistent attention span, but i'm working on it !! i hold this fic very close to my heart and i hope that all of you like it as much as i do !!