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whiskeyghoul · 8 months ago

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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips.

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over.

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions.

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile.

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #Goth reader #self indulgent fic #fanfic writer #tumblr writer

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foreingersgod · 6 months ago

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End of the Day . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin’s rookie year hasn’t been going as smoothly as she had planned and it’s starting to take a toll on her. at least she has you there for her at the end of every game

WARNING: by no means, because i’m defending caitlin, will i tolerate any sort of racism/sexism on this post or on my page in general. just because we want to support her doesn’t mean we need to say completely unnecessary and racist things about other players. if there is anything of the sort, you will be blocked! this post has nothing to do with ANYONE except caitlin so please remember to be kind and respectful! this fic is meant to be a cute hurt/comfort scenario about struggling as a rookie, please don’t make it into something it’s not :)

every game was agonizing for you to watch. whether you were sat on the couch in front of the TV or sitting somewhere up in the stands, watching caitlin take hit after hit was too much for you to watch. it broke your heart every single time, knowing that with each passing game, it was harder and harder for her to stay optimistic. your sweet and energetic girlfriend now seemed completely wiped out and drained. you heard her meek responses to the press, claiming that it was all “just how basketball was”, but you knew her better than that. you knew it was starting to take a toll on her, caitlin would never call something like this just part of the game.

you often had to close your eyes while watching these games. you hated the way they pushed her around like she was anything less of a player, how she would fall to the ground and squeeze her eyes shut in pain. it made your blood boil to see how much pain she was in. the urge to march down to the court floors and take on these women head on was constantly sitting in the back of your mind. there had been times you had to step outside of the stadium to take a breathe, trying to reassure yourself that cailtin was alright and had it under control.

and she did, she had gotten quite good at keeping a relaxed demeanor despite the physicality on the court. there were times were she would slip up though, letting her temper get the best of her, but she never took it too far and always reminded you that she could handle it. you knew deep down that caitlin only stayed so calm because of you. the last thing she wanted was to upset or worry you, make a big scene that she knew you’d evidently witness. as much as caitlin wanted to scream and argue and fight back, she couldn’t bare the thought of you watching her lose her cool. so she suffered in silence, something she had a habit of, aware of how mad it made you. you wanted nothing more than to comfort her in these times of need, but she was too stubborn to cave in.

it wasn’t until tonight, though, that she had finally reached her breaking point. this last game being the straw that broke the camels back. you hadn’t known what it was, whether it was the flagrant foul or the snide comments made off the court, but it cut caitlin deeper than the rest. unfortunately, you weren’t able to attend this particular game. work ended up being crazy busy and you had to stay longer, cutting into about 30 minutes of game time. you had warned caitlin before the game started, letting her know that you would be watching her from home and that you’d be cheering her on like always.

you don’t think you could get the image out of your head, the moment replaying in your head well after the game had ended. you had settled down on the couch with your ‘22’ t-shirt on and a loose blanket thrown over your lap, watching the game with your jaw clenched. you wanted so badly to stay hopeful tonight, trying to keep a positive mindset. but as the 3rd quarter rolled around, your hopes were quickly diminished. you watched one of the opponents come up behind caitlin, decking her in the shoulder so hard that she was thrown relentlessly to the ground. you cringed in dismay. you sat through the remnants of the game totally gutted for your girlfriend knowing that she’d be beating herself up when she walked through the doors of your home.

once the game had ended, you moseyed your way to the bedroom. after your nightly routine you crawled into bed and pulled out your book, waiting for caitlin’s arrival. you hated when she wasn’t here, the bed colder and lonelier than you’d have liked. it was hard to focus on the words littered across the novels pages as anticipation spread through your body. about 30 minutes had passed when you finally heard the obnoxious screeching of the front doors hinges. a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to familiar foot steps trail throughout the kitchen, eventually padding their way up the stairs.

then she came into view, pushing your bedroom door open quietly. she had assumed you were asleep by now and didn’t want to wake you by being too loud. your head perked up, the book long forgotten somewhere on the sheets as you took in the sight of your girlfriend. she looked burned out, a sad expression chiseled into her features. her hair was messy, cheeks flushed and pale-you assumed had been from crying. she hadn’t noticed you right away, only looking up when you called out her name.

“cait…” you breathed, unsure of what to say. she was clearly bothered, on the verge of tears. normally she’d come home and brush it off, saying that she just needed you and she’d be ok, but tonight was different. she looked inconsolable, standing there at the end of the bed.

“oh, hey baby,” she faked a smile, now dragging her feet to her side of the bed to get changed “you’re up”

“yea,” you offered a smile in return “you know i can’t sleep without you”

the small comment seemed to entice a genuine smile out of her this time, seeing how her lips turned upwards slightly as she pulled a clean tshirt over her head. she joined you in bed, sliding one leg underneath yours to feel the smallest bit of touch from you.

“hey i-uh,” you shook your head. this was a delicate matter that you didn’t know how to approach “i watched the game, cait”

“mhm,” she hummed, now pulling out her phone to mindlessly scroll through social media. possibly to distract her, but seeing the nasty comments about earlier tonight certainly wasn’t going to help.

you weren’t satisfied with her avoidance, deciding to prod further. you couldn’t watch her suffer like this any longer.

“baby,” you said softly, your tone somewhat stern to grab her attention. a gentle hand made its way to her wrist, pushing the phone from her grasp and into her lap “i think we should talk about the elephant in the room”

“i really don’t…” she muttered, her voice shaking “it’s fine, you know me”

“but caitlin, it’s not” you maneuvered around the bed, turning around and pulling your knees to your chest so you could fully face her. she laid her head back on the headboard, tilting her jaw away from you “you always say that, and i know you’re strong and can handle it. but tonight wasn’t ok and i know you know that”

you noticed the way her muscles tensed, preparing for a conversation she wished she would never have to have. you reached over to her, hand resting on her thigh as you rubbed soothingly. she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed deeply to hold back tears. but it was no use, she was already hiccuping as sobs racked her body. you felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest. she hardly cried, and when she did, it was never like this.

“it’s whatever,” she couldn’t bring herself to look at you, beating herself up for even being upset in the first place “that’s just how it is, i’m the rookie and-”

“caitlin, stop” you begged, knowing where this was going. she was trying to brush it off once again. you disregarded her thigh, now moving even closer to her to place a hand on her cheek “that’s not just ‘how it is’, you’re allowed to be upset when you get quite literally shoved to the ground. and you’ve got too much on your plate right now, there’s a lot going on”

“i just-i don’t want…” the tears kept coming as she melted into your touch, the weight of her head leaning into your hand “i’m sorry”

“for what, baby?” you ran your thumb across her cheekbone “you have nothing to be sorry about”

“for all of this,” she exhaled, opening her eyes to actually look at you. her eyes slightly red, wet streaks running down her cheeks “for being upset like this, you shouldn’t have to sit here for this, i’m just being dramatic”

“you’re not being dramatic,” you butted in “got it? you shouldn’t have to feel sorry for being upset about something like this and i’ll have you know-i’m more than happy to be a shoulder to cry on, it’s what i’m here for. you can be respectful and reserved on the court and to the press, but you should never apologize for coming home and being vulnerable. especially with me”

a wave of silence washed over the room, caitlin’s exasperated sniffles being the only sound. she took a deep breath before continuing, gaze flickering down to her hands that were now fidgeting in her lap.

“i hate it so much,” she said, tears now only coming down harder “it was fine at first, but…but it’s just too much, i can’t”

“hey hey hey, it’s ok” you closed any distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around her and bringing her in your chest. she instantly buried her head underneath your chin, allowing you to run your fingers through her hair and rub her back comfortingly “i know, baby it’s gonna be ok”

“i thought i could handle it, you know?” her voice was small, strained even. the collar of your shirt now damp, her lengthy fingers grabbing desperately at your sides for comfort “but it’s hard to process it all…like sure, being the rookie’s hard, but…but for some reason it’s just way more difficult than i imagined. and getting shoved around sucks, but it’s not even that. i don’t know how to explain it…im just so-so frustrated”

you listened attentively, giving your two cents when it was needed, humming in agreement as she ranted. you let her get it all out, hoping that this would help take some of the weight of her chest. her stubbornness to talk about things like this caused her a great deal of pain in the end, and you’d do anything in your power (even if it were sitting here like this all night) to ease her worries. you couldn’t describe how proud of her you were, grateful that she was trusting you enough to tell you how she truly felt.

“i think i’m just so overwhelmed with everything…with press, with all these expectations, with games…all of it has just been hammering down on me and it’s really fucked me up” she finished, taking a gasp of air after she poured her entire heart out to you.

“i get it, babe” you concurred “being new is hard and i can’t even imagine how much pressure you’ve been putting on yourself over this past year. and you know i don’t know much about the game and all that, but…but what i can say is, is that you aren’t alone. you have so many people who love you and support and are here for whenever you have days like this. neither me, your friends and teammates, your family, or even your fans expect you to walk out of the season like it was nothing. this is supposed to be hard and you’re supposed to have emotions like this. i love you more than anything and i need you to know that i’m here for you through all of this, alright?”

she sat up from being curled into your embrace for what felt like hours. her tears were now mostly dry, although her nose was still a light shade of pink from the congestion. another exasperated breath tumbled from her lips as she urgently grabbed both sides of your face, leaning into you. her lips met with yours in haste. she kissed you deeply, a small whimper emitting from her throat.

“i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without you,” she said, resting her forehead on yours, your hands cupping hers as they stayed firm to your face “you always know what to say, thank you for listening and being there for me”

you laughed, grinning as you looked into her gorgeous eyes “anytime, anywhere, no matter what. i’m so proud of you babe”

after a few more words were passed between the two of you, it was decided that you both were in dire need of some rest. caitlin was tired enough as it is, coming home and letting all of her emotions go had to have been even more exhausting. getting under the covers, caitlin moved down the bed so that she could rest her head just above your stomach, the sound of your heartbeat easing her stress.

“i love you so much” she yawned, fingers snaking underneath your shirt to run along your soft skin.

“i love you too, cait” you sighed, finally letting sleep take over your body.

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be4chywritez · 5 months ago

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tie the knot | logan sargeant

logan sargeant x piastri!reader

You and Logan officially tie the knot.

masterlist!

beachy’s notes🐚: reader is adopted

Logan had been in love with you since the day you punched another kid for calling him a loser.

That was when you were 12 and he was 13. Oscar teased him about it endlessly until Logan finally mustered the courage to ask you out. He remembers it so clearly.

You were both sitting on the dock of a lake where your parents had organized a get-together. Oscar had gotten bored of staring at the water and wandered off. Logan looked over at you and asked, "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

You looked over, flushed, and shook your head. "No."

"Do you want a boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes flicking nervously to your lips. You scooted closer, your knees brushing against each other, both of you blushing at the contact.

"I think I do," you said, avoiding eye contact and staring off into the water. You heard him take a shallow breath.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

You whipped your head towards him. "You want me to be your girlfriend?" you asked, shocked because the boy you’d had a crush on since you were twelve was asking you to be his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I thought you liked me," he said, flushing deep red and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I do!" you blurted out too quickly. You cleared your throat. "Um, yeah, I do. I want to be your girlfriend." You smiled, and he let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, thank God. I was nervous you didn't like me and that would be—"

You cut him off with a kiss. You weren't sure if you were kissing him right, your lips awkwardly pressing against his. He didn't pull away, but his hands hesitated before gently holding your arms. You pulled away, both of your cheeks flushed. "Was that good?" you asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, it was good," he smiled, looking just as flustered as you felt.

You both went back to watching the lake, sitting closer together now, your shoulders touching shyly. Occasionally, you pointed out a fish flopping in the water, stealing glances at each other and giggling nervously.

Logan watched you talk to Lily, both of you wearing smiles on your faces. You waved goodbye to her as she walked back to the side of Alex’s garage.

Looking back up, you noticed Logan watching you, and you flushed. Even now, he never failed to make you blush. He leaned against the counter, a relaxed smile on his face. “Hey, babe,” he said, reaching over to peck your lips.

“How are you feeling today?” you asked as he pulled away, your hand running along his arm.

“I think we can get up to at least P15,” he said, meeting your gaze and letting out a sigh.

You grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re going to score points. I know it,” you said, giving his arm one last squeeze before he was beckoned to his car by the engineers.

You let out a breath, watching him get into the car. Quickly, you sent Oscar a text, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later.

Good luck, Oz. Love you.

Slipping on the headset, you listened in to the engineers. Each time Logan overtook another car, your heart squeezed, and your hands gripped your handbag tightly. By lap 56, Logan was in P10. Nico tried overtaking him, but Logan defended his position brilliantly. You shot up from your seat, cheering, and his mechanics did the same, celebrating his performance.

A few engineers came over to hug you as well. When Logan returned, drenched in sweat, he received pats and hugs from the pit crew members. Making his way towards the back of the garage, he smiled at you. “I’m all sweaty, babe,” he said.

“I don’t care, Logan,” you replied with a smile, pulling him into a hug. You whispered into his ear, “I knew it.”

He pulled away slightly, staring at you with a look of realization and love. In that moment, he knew he was going to propose.

You threw a pillow at Oscar’s face. “What should I wear, pants or a dress?” you asked.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t you just going to dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “Knowing Logan, he’s going to want to dip his toes in the water.”

Oscar hummed in agreement. “Dress,” he decided, pulling out his phone to text Logan.

She has no clue. Stop stressing.

Logan replied quickly.

What color is she wearing? I want to match.

Oscar groaned. “Gross, happy couples,” he muttered.

You peeked your head out of the bathroom. “What?”

He flushed. “Nothing.”

“So, how do I look?” you asked, stepping out fully dressed. Oscar looked up from his phone lazily, giving you a thumbs-up.

You groaned, throwing another pillow at his head. “You are literally no help.”

Just then, the doorbell rang, and your mom called out that Logan was here. You dashed out of your room, making your way downstairs quickly.

Logan looked dashing, his shirt matching your dress perfectly. He held a bouquet of flowers and smiled warmly when he saw you. “For you, my love,” he said, handing you the flowers.

You pecked him on the lips and handed the flowers to your mom. “Mom, can you put these in water?” you asked.

She nodded, smiling. “Of course. You two have fun.”

Logan walked you to his car, opening the door for you. Once he got into the driver’s seat and started the car, you looked over at him. “So, where are we going?”

“Well, I got us dinner reservations, and then we can go for a walk on the beach,” he said, pulling away from the driveway.

After dinner, Logan drove you to a secluded part of the beach. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a silvery glow over the sand. He took off his shoes, and you followed suit, both of you walking barefoot along the shore, the cool water lapping at your feet.

As you walked, you noticed a set of candles arranged in a heart shape on the sand ahead. You laughed, nudging Logan playfully. “Looks like someone’s getting proposed to tonight,” you joked.

Logan smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

You turned to look at him, and your breath caught in your throat. Logan was down on one knee, holding a small box in his hand. “Y/N Piastri,” he began, his voice filled with emotion, “from the moment you stood up for me ten years ago, I knew you were someone special. You’ve been my rock, my best friend, and my greatest supporter.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as he continued. “We’ve grown up together. You make me a better person; I can’t imagine my life without you. You are my everything, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

You nodded, your hands covering your mouth in shock and joy. “Yes, Logan! Yes, I will marry you!”

He slipped the ring onto your finger and stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace. You kissed, feeling the magic of the moment surround you. The awkwardness of your first kiss was a distant memory, replaced by the deep, unwavering love you shared.

Suddenly, you heard cheers and claps coming from behind the nearby dunes. You turned to see your family and Logan’s family emerging from their hiding spots, all of them beaming with happiness. Oscar was at the front, a proud smile on his face.

“Oh my god, you all were in on this?” you asked, laughing through your tears.

Oscar walked up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Of course we were. Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You hugged him back, feeling a surge of gratitude and love. “Thanks, Oz. This means so much to me.”

Oscar pulled back, a teasing glint in his eye. “Just remember, you still owe me for all the times I covered for you two.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Deal.”

Your three sisters ran up to you next, each one taking turns to hug you tightly.

Logan stood back, watching the interaction with a warm smile. He shared a look with his own family, who were all just as thrilled. Your mom and dad approached, hugging both of you tightly.

“We’re so proud of you both,” your mom said, her voice choked with emotion.

Logan’s parents joined in, his mom wiping away tears. “Welcome to the family, Y/N,” she said, her smile radiant.

The moment was beautifully chaotic, with everyone talking, hugging, and celebrating at once. As the group settled down, Logan looked down at you, watching as you animatedly talked to your sister. In that moment, he knew he had made the right decision.

#f1 x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #be4chywrites

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year ago

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I am Yours, You are Mine -Aemond T.

This is an A/B/O fic. You have been warned.

Everyone knew, they had always known.

It wasn’t hard to figure out from what I assume, my mothers children are all boys with brown hair and brown eyes, I have white hair and purple eyes. Everyone knew my older brother Jace and my younger brothers Luke and Joffrey were Harwin Strongs children and just like that, everyone knew that I was the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

Laenor hadn’t been able to give my mother a child and I looked nothing like him, Daemon however…I’m told I’m the spitting image of him. So while I am technically a bastard, I’m also full Targaryen, so I was never treated like it. I was born only 5 moons after Aemond was and therefore was raised with him in a way, as we grew up his older brother Aegon and my older brother Jace got close, at least closer than they were to us and Aemond got picked on a lot. He didn’t have a dragon, and while I didn’t either, everyone knew to leave me alone, whether it was because I was a girl or because I was Daemons daughter I don’t know. My father is the only current Targaryen Alpha in the world and that made people so much more terrified of him than they already were.

Most people in the world present as Betas, it’s normal and no one really thinks twice about it, an Alpha however is a blessing from the Gods. He will be stronger, and tougher, and defend your family better than a Beta can, at least that’s what people believe, an Alphas instincts being so much stronger than a Betas, the only presentation stronger still is an Omega, and an Omega is considered a blessing from the mother herself. Presentation happens around puberty but usually you can see certain traits in children to tell if they will be anything other than a Beta, my mother believes I will be an Omega because even with a father like Daemon I’m quiet and sweet, always the most submissive in the room which for a Princess is a good thing.

Aemond and I spent more and more time together as we got older, him being shunned from the group with his older brother and mine, along with Luke who followed them around like a puppy and didn’t mind getting pranked once in a while. Aemond was the smartest of all of them, he enjoyed learning, and training, but most of all, he had no dragon. Neither of our dragon eggs hatched and the both of us bonded over that, and I always tried to make my uncle feel better when they had been particularly cruel, like the day they gave him a pig instead of a dragon. We skipped dinner that night and sat together in the library for hours just talking. He was my best friend, and my closest ally in the world, we made promises to always be there for each other.

The promises of children never seem to last though…even if the children weren’t the ones to break them.

After Joffrey was born mother moved us back to Dragonstone, me kicking and screaming, clinging to my uncle who held me just as tightly until our mothers gave up. We had a small second of hope as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me to him so tightly it almost hurt. That’s when our mothers called for their guards and we were yanked apart harshly and I was carried all the way to the ship that would take us home.

We weren’t apart for long after that, my fathers wife dying in childbirth brought us back together for her funeral. As soon as I saw him I pulled away from Jace and ran to Aemond who held me close and breathed in my scent as I did his, it was a comfort that only we seemed to give each other. I stayed by his side holding his arm while everyone spoke about Laena, saying kind words about a women I barely knew while my “father” stood in the ocean below, crying for the Gods only know how long.

Aegon was with us for some time, watching the maids and being his normal vile self and eventually we were alone, speaking as if no time had passed at all. That moment as we sat on the steps talking would be one I regret for many years to come, watching Aemond as he gazed at Vhagar. I knew my uncle wanted a dragon, more than even I did and I told him he should go, as the sun went down and people filed inside to bed, I encouraged him to mount her while he had the chance. 2 hours later I was awoken to a knight running into my room to check on me and seeing I was in bed and fine. I followed him downstairs to my mothers relief, Luke was bleeding from the nose, Alicent was angry beyond belief and my uncle and best friend sat with a maester stitching his eye up. I moved to his side quickly, taking his hand in my own and holding it tightly, allowing him to squeeze it as he got stitched up and everyone continued screaming. I didn’t care for the politics, I didn’t care for the threats, or insults, only that my favorite person sat beside me maimed and my brothers had done it. I stayed by his side for the rest of the evening, even as the maester gave him milk of the poppy to be able to sleep, snuggling into his chest and feeling his arms around me as he slept soundly and all the while I felt sick to my stomach knowing that what Jace had said to me when I hugged my mother had been completely true… ‘This is all your fault’

I was taken from Aemond’s bed late in the morning, he had awoken to eat and been put back to sleep, all the while clinging to my hand. My mother took us home immediately, we went back to Dragonstone and so did Daemon who quickly married my mother as soon as Laenor passed.

Jace and Luke were quick to blame me for everything, knowing that I had encouraged Aemond to mount Vhagar, maybe if I hadn’t he would still have his eye and I wouldn’t have had to leave again. Maybe Rhaena wouldn’t despise me for “helping to steal her mothers dragon” even if I don’t believe you can have claim to a dragon if it hasn’t chosen you. Jace and Luke spent all their time with Baela and Rhaena and I was left alone, not wanting to be near my brothers to hear about how much they and Aemond despise me, how the only person I had ever truly loved besides my mother wouldn’t even write to me anymore no matter how many times I wrote him apologizing. My mother and father were the only people I ever spoke to anymore, Daemon practically claiming me as his own even if he couldn’t “officially” do that and I learned that being alone is better for everyone, especially once I presented. Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena had all presented as Betas as expected but I was “blessed” to a life as an Omega, suffering through my heats alone in a locked room, only maids to bring me food and try to relieve my pain which never worked.

I was 15 before I was truly blessed with anything in my life, out for a walk by myself, having escaped my guard and stumbling upon a dragon. The Grey Ghost was a name given to a shy, pale dragon, one I never hoped to even get a glimpse of in my life and I suddenly had, his eyes locked on mine as if waiting to see what I would do and so I reached into my bag to get the bread I brought with me and the fish I planned to cook on my little adventure, tossing them to him and watching as he snubbed the bread and ripped the fish apart. I had sat down on a boulder, watching as he ate, assuming this would be the only time I would ever see this elusive creature but it wasn’t. He had laid down to nap after eating and the next day he sat at the same spot as I brought him an even bigger fish. That went on for nearly 2 weeks of me bringing him food and talking to him before he approached me and allowed me to touch him, letting me mount him after that. I kept him away from the pits, away from everyone who only saw him when I went flying, knowing he was just as comfortable around people as I was, which was not at all. I even had all of my riding gear dyed as close to his color as I could, making it truly impossible for anyone, even another dragon rider to find us in a cloud bank. Daemon was impressed, believing it was a useful skill, especially for an Omega to be able to hide like that. Life continued on like that until Corlys’ injury, resulting in all of us needing to return to Kings Landing to fight for Luke’s inheritance. I was less than enthusiastic about going but my mother forced me onto the ship.

In Kings landing once again I was stuck with Jace and Luke as mother and Daemon wanted to go see Grandfather, forcing me to follow them to the training yard that I hadn’t seen since I was a small child. Everyone’s attention was on a fight in the center of the yard and I pushed between Jace and Luke to be able to see, seeing Criston Cole fighting a young man with an eye patch and knowing instantly that it’s Aemond, and that he is winning, dodging the mace repeatedly before his blade was at Cole’s throat and I ducked behind Jace and Luke, catching a very strong Alpha scent as I did and feeling my stomach twist into a knot.

‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’ He questioned and I knew they were no where close to as good as he is, he would kill them. They had continued training but not very much and Aemond is clearly quite passionate about it. ‘Niece, lovely to see you again…or smell you I should say, and what a lovely scent it is. Hmm?’ I blushed darkly, not moving from behind my brothers until Jace turned and pushed me to walk back the other way.

‘I would stay close if I were you sister, wouldn’t want to be alone with him, would you?’ Luke teased and I wanted desperately to strangle the cocky little bastard but the last time I had hit him I’d given him a black eye and made him cry like a bitch, mother made sure I knew Omegas should never be violent, especially when they’ve been trained by Daemon and could make a man feel emasculated enough to be murderous.

I sighed, rolling my eyes and following them inside, finding my room as quickly as I could and locking the doors. I sat on the windowsill and stared out over Kings Landing, seeing a dip in the clouds and knowing my dragon had followed us, it was a comfort in case I needed an escape and knowing my family, I definitely will.

I stayed in my room until my mother came to get me, walking all of us together down to the throne room where I stayed as close to my father as I could, feeling men’s eyes on me, flinching from one who leaned in to smell me making my father turn and glare down at him, the man moving to the other end of the room quickly. I held onto his belt as Otto Hightower spoke, feeling eyes on me and knowing Aemond was staring as well. That same Alpha scent was back and my stomach felt like it was quivering as the wonderful smell assaulted me. My attention was only drawn when the doors opened to reveal our grandfather looking rough…half dead honestly as he walked into the room, stumbling up to his throne, Daemon helping him as he dropped his crown and leaving me exposed with no one to hide behind until he came back. I watched on, thoroughly entertained as Vaemond shouted about Luke and Jace being bastards, and actually couldn’t contain my snort as Daemon cut off his head though as expected nothing happened to him and Luke keeps his inheritance.

‘Now, if we’re through with this useless event, I think we can-‘

‘Actually my King, if I may?’ Otto asked, approaching the throne and mumbling something to him quietly.

‘Are you sure? Rhaenyra! Why was I unaware of your daughter presenting as an Omega?’ The King asked and my blood ran cold, Daemon pushing me completely behind him.

‘She was not ready for every noble man in the kingdom to be vying for her hand Father, I was protecting my baby. I apologize if you think I’ve hidden it from you but that was never my intention.’ She explained.

‘My girl, this is wonderful! Otto is right, there’s no need for anyone to look for a husband when we have a perfect Targaryen Alpha right here. Honestly I always did believe Aemond and Y/n would end up marrying, they were so sweet when they were babes.’ I backed away from Daemon, moving around the crowd and moving towards the doors the maids use to get to the kitchen quickly. ‘My son, you will take Y/n as your wife, do you have any objections?’ The King asked and I waited a moment, waiting for him to start yelling, or begging to get out of it…but he didn’t.

‘It will be my honor Father. Thank you.’

‘Well then it is settled, there will be a wedding, right here tomorrow night-‘

‘Tomorrow?!’ My mother exclaimed.

‘I’m a sickly, old man Rhaenyra, I would like to witness their union before I pass on. You can afford me that, can you not?’ He questioned and I knew my mother would cave at that as I got to the door, pushing it open quietly.

‘Father, I would like to request one thing. Since it must be such a quick wedding, I would like to do it in the traditional Valyrian custom.’ Aemond asked and I took pause.

When we were children we discussed just this, we talked about how we would be married one day and I told Aemond that I wanted to do it right, in the old customs. Since the day I learned of the traditional wedding I thought it was beautiful and I wanted it more than anything, Aemond promising me the perfect wedding. The idea that he remembered and even cared enough to request such a thing brought tears to my eyes.

‘I don’t see why not, I leave it to my wife and daughter to sort out the details with the bride and groom.’ My mother and the queen? And they want me in the middle of that? Fuck no.

I turned, leaving out the door, quickly running down the corridor and into the kitchens which were busy making dinner, allowing me to run through quickly and out another side door. I just made it to the gardens and down the steps, hiding in the bushes when a guard rushed out after me. ‘Princess! Princess! Your mother demands your presence!’ He shouted, running into the garden while I crept out and down the side of the castle. One good thing about growing up in a castle, you learn how to get around quickly and unseen.

I looked up to the sky, hoping to see my dragon, knowing exactly what he looks like now that I’ve spent so many years by his side and on his back. ‘Come on Ghost! Where are you?’ I questioned, getting down the stairs to the front of the castle, peeking around the corner to see many guards and I quickly moved around the wall and past the gates to the plaines where I knew Vhagar rested by the water. I kept far away from the resting place of the nearly 2 centuries old dragon and whistled, seeing the grayish white color separate from the clouds and dive down towards the ground, landing just ahead of me and just as he nudged his giant head into me in greeting a voice stopped me.

‘Byka Zaldrīzes!’ I froze, knowing only my uncle had ever called me that. He had since we were kids and I was trying to comfort him when he was upset about not having a dragon. My child brain figured, I’m a Targaryen, I can be your dragon and it made him laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe. He called me Little Dragon ever since. ‘Where are you going to go?’ He asked, not yelling…not even seeming angry.

‘Home…’

‘Going home already, and I didn’t get a hello or a goodbye. I admit, I had hoped for a different reaction.’ He stepped closer, Ghost growling but not doing anything more as I shushed him to keep him calm. ‘You used to be excited by the prospect of us being married.’ That wonderful Alpha scent came over me again and I could no longer deny that it was him I was smelling, though deep down I knew it was. ‘You can’t even look at me?’ His voice held more emotion now, upset at the idea I couldn’t face him.

‘Please Aemond, please stop this? You don’t want to be married to me, there’s no point in whatever you’re doing…’ I told him, turning to face him and I couldn’t deny how beautiful he is. I had always found him cute but he had become incredibly handsome the past 9 years.

‘You dare tell me what I want? You?! After all of this time?! I have always wanted you Y/n and I always will, nothing will change that apart from you telling me you no longer love me and that my face is too much for you to accept as your Lord Husband.’ My eyes widened and I took an unintentional step forward.

‘Aemond, you are beautiful, you always have been! No scar changes that, and it could certainly not change the way I feel for you-‘

‘Then why do you run from me? Why have you spent 9 years not answering my letters? Why do you find it so hard to look me in the face? Why-‘

‘Because it’s my fault!’ I shouted, unable to take his questions anymore. ‘Because if I hadn’t encouraged you it wouldn’t have happened, no one would have fought, you wouldn’t have lost your eye! It’s my fault! And Jace and Luke, they tell me all the time and I don’t want to hear how much you hate me! I don’t want to hear you lie and tell me I ignored you, I wrote you every day for months! You never responded and I don’t think I can handle hearing how much you hate me Kepus…I can’t…’ the tears were now streaming down my face like crazy and as I reached to wipe them away he grabbed ahold of my wrists, forcing me to look at him.

‘You think I blame you?’ His voice was so soft it actually startled me. ‘Y/n…first of all I never got letters from you and I’m realizing you didn’t receive mine either which I’m assuming was your brothers but Gods Y/n! I have Never blamed you for that night!’ His face was so serious and hard I knew he wasn’t lying.

‘Never?’

‘Not for one second! You are the only one who gave me any kind of comfort, everyone else was either scared or angry, but you just held me. I loved you so much in that moment I thought my heart would explode! Waking up next to you in the morning, in so much pain, but you were there to make me feel better…then you were gone. My Little Dragon was gone and I couldn’t even speak to her, and now I come to find out you’re carrying guilt that has never been yours to hold! Your brother did that, not you, Luke! He chose to pick up that blade and slice my face, not you! And Vhagar was no one’s to claim, she chose me and I chose her, and yes you helped make me feel better about it but I was going to go to her no matter what you said…please let go of that guilt, my Princess?’ I nodded, sniffling as he let go of my arms and used his thumbs to wipe my eyes before leaning close and pressing his lips to mine. ‘You’re mine Byka Zaldrīzes, all mine!’ He swore, kissing me again, harder this time and pulling me flush against his chest. ‘My Little Dragon is going to be my wife, the mother of my children, my perfect little Omega…Fuck you smell amazing!’ He groaned, digging his face into my neck and inhaling deeply.

‘That’s enough!’ A deep voice shouted and Aemond jumped but I knew exactly who it was.

‘Father, you ruin everything.’ I teased and he just smiled as he got closer, Ghost rumbling in irritation at how many people are here now, seemingly willing to deal with my Alpha and that is all. ‘Did you take my letters?’ I asked and he instantly looked confused.

‘What?’

‘The letters I wrote Aemond, and the letters he wrote me, we never got them. Was it you? I am asking you despite the fact that you’re the least likely…I’m going to kill Jace…and Luke.’ I told him and he seemed irritated.

‘If they really did that, then they will be punished, I assure you. However right now, we need to get you back inside and help your mother plan a wedding.’ I hesitated but nodded my head, moving to follow Daemon and he turned to walk away as well just as I pulled away from Aemond and climbed onto Ghost.

‘Y/n, what are you doing?’ He laughed.

‘You think I’m going to mediate our mothers? Not gonna happen, by this time tomorrow we’ll be married or they’ll be dead, but I won’t be in the middle. Bye father!’ I shouted, hearing Ghost rumble. ‘Sovēs!’ I commanded before he leapt into the air and began climbing towards the clouds. ‘You saved my life, you know that?’ He screeched and I snorted. ‘Not really I suppose, but it wouldn’t have been fun…at all.’ We stayed like that, flying contently over the clouds for several minutes before Ghost seemed agitated and I turned to see the shadow of a large dragon above us causing me to push Ghost down before seeing Vhagar behind us, Aemond laughing while Ghost complained. ‘Not Funny Kepus!’ I shouted, diving after him as he turned to land on a nearby island.

‘I like it when you call me that, Princess.’ He told me as we both got our feet back on the ground.

‘Really? I would have thought you would hate it. My father does, it makes him feel Old when my mother uses it.’ I laughed and he just snorted, laying out his jacket for me to sit on so I could be comfortable.

‘He is nearly 20 years older than your mother, of course he hates it. When you say it, it just excites me.’

‘Hmm, well then I will refrain. Wouldn’t want to excite you too much, would we?’ I leaned into his side and he wrapped his arms around me, Vhagar laying down behind us and Ghost wanting to lay his head on my lap but I wouldn’t let him with Aemond here too.

‘I knew you would be a perfect little Omega, I just knew it. So perfect Y/n, and all mine.’ Aemond’s nose trailed through my hair and I loved the feeling.

‘Not yet Kepus, you need to wait to say that until we’re married-‘

‘Are you going to tell me that you belong to someone else, Omega? Because I will remove their organs.’ He threatened. ‘I’m already keeping myself from killing your brothers so save yourself more problems. If any man has dared put their hands on you-‘

‘Aemond!’ I exclaimed, laughing as he went on his tirade. ‘No one has touched me! Jace tried once when I went into heat the first time but I smacked him so hard his ears rang for a week. I love the possessive attitude but no one has touched me.’ I teased him, giggling as he trailed his nose over my scent gland, groaning.

‘Good, because I would’ve killed them. I told you before, you’re all mine Byka Zaldrīzes, Alphas pretty little Omega.’ His lips wrapped around my scent gland, sucking on my neck and making me cry out. ‘Oh, such sweet little sounds you make for me, my good girl.’ He teased, pushing me onto my back and laying over top of me, arm circling my waist. ‘I’ve waited so long to have you under me like this, to have to wait one more day is torture.’

‘You will survive Kepus, no one will keep us apart again…I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.’ I trailed my fingers up his jaw to his cheek and removed his eyepatch, dropping it to the ground and taking his face into my hands, his eyes closing as I held him.

‘Should they try, I will set this whole world on fire my love. No one will dare take you from me again.’ His voice was firm and fiery, every bit the Dragon that he was always meant to be.

As he leant down, I turned my head and let his lips touch my cheek. ‘We’re not yet married Aemond.’

‘Surely you can afford me a kiss, we will be married by this time tomorrow, don’t make me wait to kiss you one moment longer.’ I had to giggle at the way he made it seem like a life or death situation. ‘I had your first when we were only 8, I would have your last before you’re married.’ His fingers trailed over my cheek as I blushed a dark red before I leaned closer and felt his lips on mine. They were soft and warm as he held me close. I touched my fingers softly to the scar under his eye, hating that he had had to suffer so much pain and I couldn’t even be there for him, or even write to him. ‘I am sorry this is the face you must look at for the rest of our marriage, I-‘

I glared up at him and flicked his nose hard before he could finish speaking. ‘You will not speak ill of the man I love that way! Do you hear me? I care very little about a scar, I’m just sorry that I could not stop it.’

‘Little Dragon-‘

‘All this scar shows me is how strong and tough my husband is. It tells me that I will be safe in his arms and bed, and that our children will never know the feeling of danger…I love you Aemond.’ I could see the unshed tears in his eye that I knew he would never let fall and I pressed my lips to his again.

‘I love you Y/n. You are mine, and I am yours. ‘

For everyone who asked me for more Aemond content as well as those who asked for more Alpha/Omega fics.

I hope you liked it, cause I loved writing it!

Aemond T. Masterlist

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coco-loco-nut · 5 months ago

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Broken Bones

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: George gets in a wreck and you happen to be the surgeon on-call.

a/n: i loved this prompt, i hope you love it ❤️

masterlist

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George was enjoying his home race, he was holding P3 with a comfortable lead due to some great defending earlier in the race. Unfortunately for him, mother nature decided to put her hand into the race and have a pop up rain shower come through.

“It should clear through shortly, let’s keep with the softs,” his engineer says, hoping to outsmart those pitting for inters. George says a quick response and continues focusing on the track, especially the dry line. With the rain pouring, he catches a wet line in turn 4, sending the car spinning and into a barrier.

You rush down a couple floors to where you have been paged. Being the only orthopedic trauma surgeon in the hospital and on-call, you have to make haste.

“Is there really no one else to take this?” you ask, looking at the chart that has initial images and the patient information.

“Big fan?” the nurse beside you asks as you mentally plan the procedure. Most of Britain is basically a fan of the racing driver.

“Yeah. It’s not ethical, but I took an oath,” you tightly smile, beginning the process of scrubbing in.

“You are a great surgeon, you will have no problem keeping the fan part of you out of your mind,” the nurse reassures you. You take a couple deep breaths before heading to surgery.

The procedure goes well, you repair the broken wrist and fix the damage as best you can. Of course, time will finish healing it, but you do your best.

Afterwards you scrub out, finish paperwork, and go home. You won’t need to check in until anesthesia wears off, and that can take a while. You return later in the day, dressed in business casual and your lab coat.

“Mr. Russell, how are you feeling?” you ask, needing to check on your work. You close the door behind you when you enter the room.

“You are so pretty,” George says, still a little out of it.

“Thank you. Mind if I check your arm?” you ignore your blush.

“You look like my wife. She’s a doctor too, soooo pretty,” George babbles.

“I know, love, let me see your arm,” you say gently, sitting beside him.

“What happened?” George asks with a confused look.

“You spun out and crashed into a barrier. It was raining, you were on slicks, and caught a wet line,” you explain, carefully examining the surgical site, removing the splint immobilizing the wrist.

“I know that much. Injuries?” he asks, eyes trained on your wound examination.

“Broken wrist. We are going to brace it rather than cast it,” you check his chart for other injuries noted.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, I love you,” George says, moving his non-injured hand to grab yours.

“I love you too, Georgie,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his hand as he processes everything. You note things in his chart, making sure your observations and updates are written down.

“I’m glad you did my surgery, I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” he smiles, you can’t help but smile back. It’s not illegal, but it certainly is borderline unethical to treat your husband.

“I’m happy to hear that. Why don’t I go and see if your family is out in the waiting room?”you hum, needing to stay inconspicuous. Of course, those close to you know who your husband is, but since you don’t share his last name it isn’t obvious.

“One kiss before you leave,” George pouts and you hesitate. “Please, I was just in a crash and your kisses make me feel better,” he pouts. You playfully roll your eyes and lean in, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you, I’ll be right back,” you reassure him. You find his family and Toto waiting outside in the waiting room.

“Family of Mr. Russell,” you say, calling them to you.

“Y/n, dear, did you do his surgery?” George’s mom asks, a little hopeful.

“I did, I was the only one here and on call. Thankfully nothing too major, he can probably get back into a car in a month if we rehab him correctly. Want to see him?” you ask, knowing the answer. You lead them to his room, but stop Toto before he walks in.

“Y/n-“ Toto starts but you don’t hesitate to cut him off.

“You got very lucky that the broken wrist was the worst of it. Keeping him out on slicks? Are you stupid, a win is not worth more than a life,” you fume.

“I know, I gave his engineers and strategists a talking to. I just wanted to check in on him, but knowing he is in your care is all I needed. I check in tomorrow then,” Toto stays calm, knowing you had to since George was brought in and you needed to yell at someone.

“I, um, thank you. He should only be here another day for observation. I’ll keep you updated,” you recompose yourself and watch as Toto leaves.

“She’s just the best doctor ever. So pretty too, and smart, and really good at surgery,” you overhear George tell his parents, he likely just got another dose of pain meds.

“Thank you, Georgie. You are a pretty good patient,” you smile from the doorway.

“Can you believe that doctor loves me? And she married me?” George asks his mom who laughs.

“You chose a wonderful wife. Why don’t you let her get back to work?” his mom asks, catching your amused gaze.

“Yes, I have another surgery scheduled. I will check on you in a few hours,” you walk over to your husband, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you so much, I want to have babies with you,” George blurts, causing your face to flame bright red.

“Okay, let’s talk about that later,” you awkwardly say, stepping out of the room.

You are quick to return after your scheduled surgery. You know the nurses rotations and know that they won’t check in for another hour.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” George grins as you walk in. “You look so sexy post-surgery,” he eyes you up.

“Really? I don’t feel like it,” you slide onto the bed beside him, careful to avoid hurting him. You relax in silence for a minute before you address the feeling eating at the pit of your stomach. “Please try not to crash again. I know it’s unavoidable, but the feeling I got when I saw your name and didn’t know how serious the crash was. It… I don’t think I can describe the panic,” you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and focusing on the sound of his heartbeat under you. The cool hospital air is a stark contrast to his warmth.

“I’m sorry, it’s the one part of racing I hate too,” George is unsure how to respond. He looks at the blank hospital wall, as if it’ll give him the answer. “I’ll always come home to you, and I have a badass surgeon to take care of me,” he laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can only do so much, like brain surgery? You are on your own,” you grin, happy to let the vibe change.

“You could do it, you can do anything,” George says, he always gets gushy when he’s tired.

“Okay, baby, you should get some sleep. I’ll go home and get you clothes. I will be back tomorrow morning to check on you,” you yawn, also needing sleep. George knows you can’t stay in the room too long, and he wouldn’t want you to stay up in an uncomfortable chair.

“I love you. Drive safe,” he mumbles, tiredness washing over him in waves. You fix his sheets and make sure he is okay before kissing him goodnight and leaving. It feels weird, to go home and not have him there. You burn the rest of your anxious energy by reaching out to some good physical therapists that you know to help with George’s recovery.

Under your watchful eye, he makes a recovery similar to Lance’s, even with you fussing the first few races post-injury. You framed one of his x-rays. George had to listen to you talk about how beautiful it was, you claimed it to be your best work. It allows for a good story when having friends over, and it reminds George to not let it happen again.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #george russell #george russell imagines #george russell x reader #george russell imagine

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cupidkenji · 8 months ago

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Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.”

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers.

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying.

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could.

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you.

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question.

Damn. Tough crowd.

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang.

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal.

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac.

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home.

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him.

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right.

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him.

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action.

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest.

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?”

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop.

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing.

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here.

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said.

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently.

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him.

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped.

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital.

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it.

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you.

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

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sanarsi · 4 months ago

Text

Royal Vows

groom!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Summary: The wedding of members of the royal family carries with it obligations. One of them is the consummation of the marriage. Warnings: +18, MDNI, unprotected PIV in front of WITNESSES, soft!dom!Oberyn, wedding stress Wordcount: 2,8k An: Don't judge me, but I would give anything to marry him and bear his sons. I have dirty mind with this fic but I hope you’ll enjoy xx Music I worked with: MAMA EH - Elyanna

Masterlist

Weddings were among the most boisterous events in Dorne. The party lasted at least for several days and the wine flowed freely. You witnessed your cousin's wedding once and you had to admit, that after it was over, you could barely get out of bed. The people of the desert loved to dance from dawn to dawn and you loved it.

But on your wedding day it stopped being so much fun. Everything started to scare you.

There was always too much or too little of something. Nothing was perfect. And the worst thing was that you were alone in all of this.

You hadn't been able to see the prince since yesterday and you didn't know that it would hit you so hard. Even though you had been engaged for half a year and you had only been talking to each other for a month, you had gotten used to his presence.

That's why standing in your wedding dress, you couldn't get rid of your anxious thoughts. Holding your hand on your stomach, you tried to control your breathing. You were barely able to notice how the servants were running in every direction and fixing the last details on your outfit.

Gold chains wrapped around your forehead, trailing down your back and bare arms. The slightest movement made them irritate your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m done, my lady,” the young girl spoke, slowly releasing your hand. You looked down at the patterns that now adorned your skin. You barely managed to force a shaky smile at her before you nodded your head to send her away.

The golden belt tightened around your waist, and the tightness made you unable to think straight. You needed any kind of stimulus to stay sane.

“Not too tight, my lady?” the maid asked behind you. You shook your head, pressing your lips into a line.

“Tighter,” you ordered.

You stared at the floor as you walked, led by your brother through the palace corridors. Your face was covered by a translucent golden veil, which allowed you to feel safer. Allowing you to hide from the whole world.

You tightened your grip on your brother's shoulder, which made him glance at you. You were paler and looked like you were about to throw up the breakfast you hadn't eaten anyway. Nothing had passed your throat since yesterday.

You were too stressed about today.

Your wedding to the prince of Dorne.

"I thought you liked him," he whispered, leaning towards you so no one else could hear what you were talking about. You swallowed hard and nodded. You liked each other.

Even more than just liked.

"So what's the problem? Why do you look like you're going to squeeze a ghost?" he asked, frowning. You glanced at him when you stopped in front of the huge doors to the ceremonial hall. You saw the concern in his eyes.

He always defended you from all the evil of this cruel world. That's why he felt helpless when in this one situation, he couldn't help you in anything. He couldn't do anything even if you said, you'd rather die than marry a prince.

"I'm afraid of what will happen after the wedding," you said the moment the guards opened the door. For a moment he looked lost in your eyes until he understood what you meant. But now it was too late to talk.

Dozens of people separated you from the altar where you were to become a wife.

Dozen of people separated you from becoming Princess of Dorne.

From becoming the wife of Prince Oberyn Martell.

You took one last deep breath and proudly lifted your head as your brother began to lead you deeper into the grand ceremonial hall.

The sun was shining through the columns, reflecting off your golden dress.

The nobility watched your every move, judging how you presented yourself as a bride. But everyone was silent. Culture forbade them from speaking to anyone until the wedding was concluded.

That's why every breath you took seemed like a gust of desert storm. Your heart tried to jump out of your chest when you finally noticed Oberyn.

He stood proudly presenting himself in his wedding robes. He looked perfect as always. His piercing gaze was fixed on your face hidden behind the veil. And even though he couldn't see your eyes, you had the impression that he was looking only into them.

You gasped for air, starting to tremble. You tightened your grip on your brother's arm to keep from tripping.

"I won't let you fall," he whispered, and his hand tightened on yours. So little, yet it was enough for you to stand in front of the altar in one pice.

Oberyn slowly walked down a few steps and, looking only at you, extended his hand toward you. You stared at each other for a moment before a faint smirk appeared on his lips and a flock of butterflies appeared in your stomach.

Your brother loosened his grip, and without hesitation, you gave your hand to Oberyn. His warm fingers tightened on your skin as he carefully pulled you toward him and helped you reach to the top of the altar.

“You shine brighter than the sun, my queen,” he whispered, pulling your hand to his lips. His lips gently touched the back of your hand, sending shivers through your body.

His eyes didn’t leave yours even as the wedding ceremony began. And that was the only thing that kept you from thinking about anything else. His dark eyes held you to him like a magnet.

Nothing else mattered.

Only the desire with which he looked at you.

"The gods are your witnesses." The priest's voice bounced off the walls, and immediately afterwards there was loud applause and screams from the people. That was the only thing that pulled you out of your hypnosis.

You blinked a few times as Oberyn slowly lifted your veil and threw it back. His eyes lit up when he saw you without any barriers.

You looked like a goddess wearing wedding jewelry and makeup. As if the gods had added extra shine to you on your wedding day.

Specifically so you could charm and tame him.

But the gods didn't know you had already done that long ago.

His fingers grabbed your chin and his thumb gently ran over the painted line that stretched down, disappearing under your dress. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted at his touch.

And then, there were only his lips.

The blood rushed in your ears as he pressed his lips hard against yours.

With desire.

But he kissed you slowly and deeply.

With love.

For a moment, you were completely alone. His hands wrapped around you. Your hands on his neck. His lips on yours. Your fingers in his hair. His tongue connected with yours in a slow dance. And your soft moan before he pulled away with a smirk.

"The Prince and Princess of Dorne," the priest said loudly and another wave of cheers echoed around. You smiled widely as Oberyn stole another gentle kiss.

"My wife," he whispered against your lips and nuzzled your nose. He pulled you closer as he turned to the people, raising his hand with a smile. You snuggled into his side and did the same, greeting the witnesses of your wedding.

The smiles and applause made you forget for a second what awaited you in a few moments.

Oberyn held your hand tightly as you walked in silence through the palace corridors.

You were stressed.

You had told him about it long before that day, so he tried to focus your full attention only on him.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at how you carried yourself with pride at his side. Like a true princess. Like you were made to be his companion for the rest of your life.

A smirk still played on his face as he felt how tightly you gripped his fingers. You looked at each other as you stopped in front of your bedroom door.

"Remember," he began in a whisper, leaning closer to you, "it's just us there." He smiled warmly, wanting to calm you down. You nodded and his lips immediately placed a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you moved away from each other and the guards opened the door.

You both entered with a confident step, your chin raised proudly. He taught you that. To pretend to be confident until it became a normal reflex. And he was so damn proud of you.

A dozen pairs of eyes immediately fell on you. You felt your stomach tighten painfully at the sight of so many people. Oberyn squeezed your hand tighter as he nodded to the nobles present.

Witnesses to the consummation of your marriage.

"Prince," the council representative nodded. "Princess," he bowed to you before stepping back against the wall, standing next to the others.

Everyone knew what you had to do now and you immediately felt bile rise in your throat.

Oberyn pulled you to one side of the bed before he let go of your hand and let the maid take care of your outfit. He stood on the other side so they could undress him too.

You stood facing each other, slowly stripped of layers of clothes and jewelry. His gaze didn't leave yours for even a second. He wouldn't let you look at the others.

He wouldn't let you see anyone but him.

Finally, the maids finished and hurriedly left the bedroom. His lustful gaze swept over your body and you wanted to wrap your arms around yourself to at least cover your naked body a little.

Not from him, but from the people who stood on the other side of the room watching your every move.

Oberyn was already half-hard when he nodded towards the bed.

"Lie down," he ordered in a voice that immediately sped up your pulse.

Slowly, on shaking legs, you knelt on the soft bed and lay down in the very middle, pressing your thighs together tightly. You stared at the ceiling, breathing quickly. He looked at you with a smirk before he climbed onto the bed too.

He knelt down in front of your bent legs and grabbed your ankle, spreading your thighs so he could slide between them.

So that no one could see what was meant only for him.

He ran his gaze over your breasts, waist and hips and right to his warm, wet piece of heaven.

He reached for the pillow. "Lift your hips," he ordered and you almost choked on air.

The fire in your belly began to take away your ability to breathe as you lifted your hips and he slid the pillow under them. His cock quivered when he saw your arousal leaking down your butt.

He hovered over you, meeting your terrified gaze. He smiled gently and his fingers gently stroked your cheek.

"You're doing great," he whispered so only you could hear. You swallowed hard and nodded. The words were unable to come out of your mouth. Having so many people around you when you were about to consummate your marriage was disorienting enough to make you forget how to think.

He leaned in, connecting your lips. Hard enough that you moaned in pain.

But it was good.

The pain allowed you to focus only on him.

His tongue dominated you in a moment. You moaned again, unable to defend yourself against him. His hands grabbed your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips. His hard cock hit your lower abdomen, making you whimper. All sounds died in his mouth as he kissed you hard.

Not letting you think about anything else.

He pulled away from you just enough to look at you. It was terrifying how quickly you fell for those eyes. Even more terrifying how much you would do for them if only he would look at you with such feelings for the rest of your life.

"It's just us," he whispered and this time you nodded more confidently. He smiled proudly then straightened up.

He grabbed his cock and slowly directed it to your wet entrance. He sighed, parting his lips as he ran his entire length between your slit. You stifled a moan and he glanced at you for a moment. He repeated the movement of his hips a few more times until he finally forced a quiet moan from you. Only then, he satisfy himself enough to position the tip at your entrance.

You immediately locked eyes as he slowly pushed his cock into you all the way to the base. He sighed loudly, colliding his hips with yours and you clenched your jaw tightly so as not to moan out loud.

A smirk appeared on his lips seeing how hard you were trying not to make any sounds. His hips slowly came to life, pulling out of you and entering again all the way. He pushed into you, not looking away from you even for a moment.

His hands slowly moved from your thighs to your hips and waist. He tightened his fingers on your skin, holding you in place as he slowly sped up his thrusts. You parted your lips, looking at him helplessly. Every movement of his cock slowly and effectively made your mind go numb. But only for him.

You tightened your hands on his wrists, throwing your head back and arching your back as he began to hit the sensitive spot in your pussy. An uncontrollable moan escaped your lips. Oberyn smacked his lips in mock indignation, a pleased smirk spreading across his lips when you were no longer able to fight the pleasure he was giving you.

He tightened his hands on your waist, making those damned slightly rounded movements with his hips that made your legs start to shake. This time was no exception.

You stared at him, panting heavily, and if you were alone now, he would probably tell you a lot of nasty things about how beautifully you took his cock. But he kept quiet, not letting others have more pleasure than they already have from watching you.

You whimpered as the pleasure between your legs grew. Oberyn felt you tighten around him, letting him know you were close. The pride he felt, in being able to bring you to orgasm with just his cock, was incredible.

He had seen many times how sensitive you were to his touch. But no one needed to know how many nights you had already spent in that bed.

He couldn't help himself the first time he was alone with you. It just happened. He buried his cock inside you like a mad man. And since then you have not spent even a single night apart.

The gods were his witness when he promised you loyalty for the rest of his life. And he knew he didn't want to sink his dick into anyone but you.

Oberyn felt you tighten around him. You gasped for air a second before the orgasm took over your body and he hung over you, kissing you hard so that all your moans disappeared in his mouth. Your song of pleasure was only available to him. That's why he immediately sped up his hips, pushing into you hard to come as quickly as possible. So as not to prolong your orgasm because you would start screaming and he really didn't want that. Your screams were only for him.

You ran out of air in your lungs when he fucked you hard, kissing even harder. And then he came with a loud growl deep inside you. He panted heavily, thrusting into you a few more times, slowly slowing down the pace.

Finally, he gave you the opportunity to breathe so you gasped for air and his hand immediately covered your mouth when you moaned loudly.

"Shhh," he whispered with a wide smile, watching as your body was only now taking in a dose of a strong orgasm.

He straightened up and glanced over his shoulder with a serious face. Sweat dripped down his chest as he ran a deadly gaze over the nobles who were trying to look like their dicks weren't getting hard from the spectacle you had just presented them.

"The marriage is consummated. Leave," he said dryly and the men seemed to wake up, obediently starting to leave your bedroom one by one.

"Let's hope the princess gives you many sons," the council chairman said politely before the door closed behind him.

Oberyn rolled his eyes in disgust. "Perverts," he muttered under his breath before looking at you again.

You were a beautiful mess. Soaking wet, panting heavily with his cock inside you. His favorite view.

"And with you, I’m not done yet," he said with a smirk before he leaned down again, attacking your lips.

#oberyn martell x y/n #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #sanarsi fic

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hi okay hi you’ve probably seen me in your notifications for the last twenty minutes because i am absolutely obsessed with the way you write poly!marauders.

i was wondering if you could write something about the (fem)reader who slowly starts dissociating when things get tough and she’s not really present and while they’re concerned, they just show their love for her through caring until she comes back to herself. it’s completely okay if you can’t!!!

Thanks honey, I'm so glad you enjoy my blog! Love the pfp btw, I personally think that was Spence’s best hair. I know everyone experiences dissociation differently so I did some research and I hope this is alright! Many apologies if it’s not accurate

cw: dissociation, brief mention of sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 910 words

You’re grateful to Sirius for defending you. You are, but the man’s hand on your ass had caused some deer-in-the-headlights glitch in your brain, and the yelling that ensued only made you retreat further into yourself. You know, distantly, that it’s Sirius’ voice, and that he’s yelling for you, not at you. But it’s all noise to you, a ruckus that means danger, and then there’s movement, and more hands, and everything that would be too much if you weren’t so far away.

You feel like you’re sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, everything above the surface of the water muffled and distorted. What happens up there doesn’t concern you. It’s peaceful down here, even if there is a certain wrongness to it. You know you don’t belong here, not really, but you can hold your breath and try to make it last.

“Baby?” a voice says. “Hey, you okay?”

“Don’t shake her, that’s not going to help.” You can’t tell if it’s another voice or the same. The comfort it brings you doesn't change, and you can’t force yourself to care either way. You can’t care at all, really, about anything. You wonder if you should be worried about that, but feelings are something out of your reach, and maybe it’s better that way.

“Something’s wrong with her.”

“I can see that, love. We’re almost home.”

“You don’t think she’s hurt, do you?”

More hands. You want to flinch away, but it’s like you’re moving through a thick sludge. “You’re alright, dove, I’m just checking that you’re okay. Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Why isn’t she talking?”

“I don’t know. I think…maybe she’s just overwhelmed. I don’t think she’s bleeding anywhere.”

“Fuck. Shit, is this a panic attack? Do you think she needs a doctor or something?”

“Let’s just give her a few minutes.”

There’s more talking, but you give up on trying to decipher it. After a while, something cushy comes up underneath you, or maybe you go down onto it. Your hand is warm, and then it’s pressed to soft fabric. “Feel my heart going in there, baby? Can you focus on that for me?”

You’ve made such a cozy home for yourself in your head that it takes you some time to realize everything around you has gone quiet. There’s a persistent bumping at your palm.

“Don’t tight hugs help with panic attacks?”

“We don’t know if that’s what this is. What if it scares her?”

“Hey, angel, can you hear me? Come back to us.”

The wrongness of where you are is starting to set in, the voices at the surface louder and more insistent. You think that maybe your chest is starting to ache.

Something moves your feet, and then you're touching something interesting. Soft and a bit rough, familiar. Carpet.

“Breathe, honey. Good. Again. We’ve got you, take your time.”

You’re conscious of your breaths first, the effort it takes to fill and empty your lungs. Then the plush material under your thighs; you’re sitting on something. Awhile longer, and you realize you’re blinking, your eyes intermittently dry and then not. Eventually you register your hand, pressed to a beating heart. Sirius’ heart.

You don't try to speak yet as you take in your surroundings. You’re home, on the couch, and someone’s taken off your socks and shoes, your feet bare on the carpet. You don’t know how any of that happened, which is unsettling, but the realization that you can feel unsettled comes with a sharp relief.

Sirius’ finger swipes over your wrist where he’s gripping your hand to his chest, and your next exhale is shaky.

“Dove?” Remus’ tone is cautious.

“Sorry,” you say croakily. “I don’t know what that was.”

Sirius sighs, letting your hand drop from his chest, and Remus grips your ankle from where he sits by your feet, stroking his thumb over your achilles’ tendon in a way that you suspect is as much for him as it is for you.

“Fucking scary, is what it was,” James says, voice thick with tears. “Can I hug you?”

You nod, and his arms come around you with his usual eagerness, though you notice his hands trembling just a little. You squeeze his shoulders tightly.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, no sorries, okay?” Sirius says, though even he sounds exhausted from what you’ve just put them through. “You obviously couldn’t help it. Do you feel alright now?”

“Yeah,” you say, though you’re unsure. You feel relatively normal at the moment, but the knowledge that you can slip into numbness that easily doesn’t allow for much comfort. “I’m just…really tired, for some reason.”

Remus hums. “I think your brain was doing a lot of work just now. Makes sense you’d need a rest.”

James releases you from the hug but only sits back far enough to see your face, his hands lingering at your waist like he’s worried you’ll slip away if he lets go. “Want to cancel dinner and have a night in, sweetheart?”

You nod, your throat closing as warmth rushes to your face. “Yes, please.”

“Hey,” Sirius says at your tears, voice lightly chiding but full of concern, “what’s wrong? You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m okay,” you promise, swiping under your eyes. “Just, thank you guys for helping me. That was really scary.”

“I know,” Remus says, palm sliding up your leg as he rises to give you a hug of his own. “I know it was, honey, but you don’t have to worry. We’ve always got you.”

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desperate-gay · 9 months ago

Text

Pent Up Energy

Alex Morgan x fem!reader

a/n: 100% based off the game last night

SMUT 18+

Beads of sweat roll down the side of your head from the exhaustion. Colombia has decided not to play cleanly, instead wanting to be as physical as possible and you were bearing the brunt of it. Only 20 minutes into the game you have gotten tackled at least 3 times, each moment being more brutal than the last.

Luckily, there hasn’t been too much conflict between anybody, but that’s until your thoughts are interrupted by a bunch of shouting. Looking over to the left, you see your girlfriend stepping in the face of a Colombian player as the rest of the visiting team tries to meddle in. You quickly rush over to stop Alex, noticing she’s getting more heated every moment.

Slipping your way through the multiple bodies, you place your hand on the forward’s chest, gently pushing her back. You try your best to defuse the situation, but she just ignores you and continues to yell at the player, earning her a yellow card from the ref.

When she notices your hand on her chest, she wipes it off while scoffing before walking away. Trinity notices and quirks an eyebrow towards you, but in response, all you do is take a deep breath and shrug.

After the halftime whistle blew, Alex stayed clear of you. Usually, you both pep each other up for the next half but instead, she stayed quiet and to herself until everyone was sent back onto the pitch. Horan pats you on the back, giving you a sympathetic smile before running over to her position.

The game never dims down with players all showing their fiery side, specifically Alex and Trinity. That ends up playing a part when they both end up getting subbed out at the seventy-second minute.

“You played well.” You whisper, brushing your hand against Alex’s passing body. She spares you a quick look before walking off and onto the bench. Sighing, you lean down to fix your socks and peek your head over to your girlfriend only to see her staring into space with a stoic look.

The rest of the game is grueling but rewarding as you have beaten Colombia and are advancing to the semifinals. After an hour or so you’re boarding onto the bus, taking an open seat and hoping for your girlfriend to join you. Sadly, when she gets on, she doesn’t even glance toward you and decides to sit several seats behind you.

Slightly frustrated with the brunette, you huff and drop your head back against the cushion of the headrest before being interrupted by a giddy smile. You can’t help but smile back at the sweet girl.

“Hi, Naomi.”

“Hey, what are you doing once we get back to the hotel?” She asks while readjusting herself and setting her bag down by her feet.

“Well, I was planning to see if I could room with Alex, but it doesn’t seem like she wants anything to do with me at the moment.” You send Naomi a weak smile which she returns with a sympathetic one.

“Nonsense, we all know Alex gets moody at times but never directly at you. I’m assigned to be her roommate so why don’t we switch? I heard you got Soph anyway.” The defender digs in her bag, pulling out a keycard and holding it out to you.

You wearily accept the card with a small thank you and give her yours in exchange. For the remainder of the ride, Naomi helps you cheer up with a few stories and jokes about her little hangouts with some of the team.

“Time to cheer up the monster.” You groan in which Naomi just laughs and offers you a hand to stand up.

“I believe in you. Go save your knight in shining armor.”

“More like my beast.” You grumble, receiving chuckles from some of the girls who have overheard, none of them being Alex, thankfully, as she is still getting off the bus.

Walking into the hotel, you make your way to your room and are met with your girlfriend soon after. You shyly glance at her and see her confused gaze.

“I thought I was roomed with Girma?” Alex frowns while you give her a look of slight discomfort.

“Umm, Naomi wanted to trade so she could room with Soph and I thought rooming with you would be nice. I could go switch it back if you want.” You whisper, slightly scared she doesn’t want you near her and your voice might betray you.

“No, just stay with me.” The girl mumbles, opening the door with her key and rushing in with her baggage.

Your eyes follow her movements like a lost puppy while you stand by the door. Alex takes in the silence and looks up at you, stopping her scavenging in her back.

“What?” She asks, looking at you with an annoyed expression. You swallow back your nerves before making your way over to the bed and getting everything that you need out of your bag and ready for the night.

The thick silence lasts for around twenty minutes before you begin to feel irritated. Alex is in the little kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking at her phone.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You finally ask gently, trying your best to keep your growing frustration with the striker at bay.

“Nothing.” Her tone remains empty, clearly not wanting to open up.

“It has to be something. You’ve been avoiding me all day, along with being quiet.” You explain, walking over to her but still keeping a little bit of space between the two of you.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Alex, you did amazing out there today, we won 3-0 and we’re advancing. If it’s about the card-“

“It’s not about the fucking card!” Alex finally snaps, dropping her phone on the counter and looking at you with a fiery gaze, but it doesn’t tear you down.

“Then tell me what it’s about, please. I can’t have you concealing all this anger. It’s not fair to you or me.” You try, voice becoming more and more desperate.

“Just shut up,” Alex warns, clenching her jaw as her hands tighten on the counter while shifting her eyes away from you.

“I’m just trying to help-”

Your sentence is cut off when your girlfriend storms over to you and she reaches out, gripping your jaw while pinning you against the wall. You look up at her with wide eyes, taking in her appearance. Wet hair, red cheeks, a zip-up training kit covering her body, and blown pupils.

“I said to shut up.” She grits, her hand never leaving your face. Her eyes look down at your lips for a split second and you luckily notice.

Without warning, she smashes her lips onto yours in a harsh kiss. Nothing about it is sweet or romantic. Both your tongues and teeth clash together like you’re trying to see who can last longer to this roughness. The hand on your jaw leaves and finds a new place around your neck, controlling every movement of your head.

“God you’re so hot. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to have you all to myself again.” The taller girl rasps against your lips before moving down to nip at your neck.

While she attacks your neck, you finally put two and two together. You realize Alex may have been aggravated by this game but all of her pent-up anger mainly resulted from a little sexual frustration. With the NWSL preseason starting and the Gold Cup, you both have been busy at training camp and too exhausted to even think about starting anything.

But with Alex, she needs an outlet after she’s played, which is mainly sex. She can finally have total control of something and that something being you. You’re at her total submission, allowing her to do whatever she wants to you and making you do whatever she wants to her.

Her lips disconnecting from your neck pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at her with your doe eyes and watch as her tongue licks her lips while she eyes you up and down.

Soon her hands grip your waist and tug you over to the bed. She sits at the end of the mattress and leans back with her hands holding her up while you remain standing in front of her.

“Strip,” Alex demands, watching as you slowly grip the bottom of your shirt and cautiously pull it over your head. When she takes sight of what seems to be a new bra, she sits back up and grips your naked hips.

“If you need to use me, use me, Alex.” You say boldly, returning her lustful gaze. Her jaw almost drops before she quickly starts unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down so you’re only in your bra and panties.

“Get on the bed.” When you don’t immediately do as she says, she pulls you down herself making you squeal in the process. “When I say to do something, you listen, got it?” You nod your head, earning you a satisfied grin.

Alex’s body hovers over you with her wet hair curtaining any view other than her face. You blindly reach down and tug on the zipper of her hoodie, asking if you can take it off. She swiftly sits up and removes all of her clothes, leaving her bare.

“I guess I should take these off you now, shouldn’t I?” She taunts, hooking her finger on the waistband of your panties and letting go of them with a sharp snap against your skin.

“Please, Alex. I need you.” You whine, bucking your hips closer to her hand. She chuckles before leaning down and kissing on your chest. Her hand reaches around your back and unclips your bra, letting it slide down a little before taking it off altogether.

Instead of moving down, her lips move up your neck and to your ear. “So beautiful, I can’t wait to have you trembling underneath my touch and screaming for me to let you cum.” Her breath fans against your ear while her breasts are smushed against yours. She tugs on your earlobe with her teeth before sitting back up, admiring your body.

“I bet you’re already wet for me even though I have barely touched you. You probably like me roughhousing you around to my pleasure. So obedient for me.” You moan as she carelessly speaks of you while trailing her finger down the center of your stomach.

“Alex, baby, I need you. I need you to touch me, please.” Your body squirms while she continues to trace her finger down to your core.

She finally dips her hand in and spreads your arousal around, completely lost in her head on how wet you are. Her finger teasingly dips into you but only for a split second, causing you to whine out.

“God, I’ve missed this pretty pussy so much.” Your girlfriend groans before angling her arm in an awkward manner and plunging two fingers into you.

Her body leans down so her lips can latch onto your breasts, leaving hickeys anywhere she pleases. Moans spew their way out of your mouth at the long-needed pleasure, but her thrusts are nowhere near fast enough to get you off, mainly because of the way her arm is angled, so you reach down with a huff and kick off your panties, leaving no restraint for Alex.

“Faster.” You pant, rolling your hips with each thrust of the forward’s hand. She chuckles and moves her arm lower so she can pump in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

“Is this what you want? Want to get fucked so hard you won’t be able to think properly, huh?” She questions without her fingers even stuttering. The loud wet noises of her thrusts echo throughout the hotel room along with your whimpers and moans.

Her finger reaches a point inside of you that has your head spinning. The build-up in your lower stomach becomes more apparent as your core tightens around your girlfriend’s digits.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” You moan, digging your nails into her bicep, leaving dark crescent indents in her skin which she loves.

Suddenly, the pressure in your stomach subsides due to Alex pulling her fingers out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You’re not gonna cum that easily, sweets. I still have so much I want to do to you.” She says in an uncharacteristically sweet tone while placing a kiss on your cheek.

Both of her hands rub up and down your sides as she kisses from your sternum down to your thigh. She bites at the inside of your skin before soothing the sting with her tongue. Alex looks over and sees your hands clenching and unclenching the sheets below you while your breathing picks up in impatience.

“So beautiful.” She whispers against your thigh before pushing it open with her large hand and latching her mouth onto your core. She lets out a low groan at the taste of you while dipping her tongue into you.

Your hips twitch into her as her tongue laps around your clit, sucking and licking the swollen surface. Your girlfriend’s hands lay flat on your stomach as she pushes her head further into your wet heat. Subconsciously, your legs begin to close in on Alex’s head as the familiar knot in your stomach returns.

Just as your hips begin to rise to your release, the brunette once again detaches herself from you, making your orgasm fade away. Tears start to build up in your eyes in frustration from the denial, but Alex wipes them away with her thumb.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” She coos, placing a few pecks on your lips in reassurance. “Do you think you’ve been a good girl?” She asks, pulling you to sit up so you’re both facing each other.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been a good girl.” You nod, nuzzling your face into her neck for some sort of comfort.

“I think so too.” Alex brushes your hair behind your ear once you pull back to look at her. She grabs the back of your neck and brings you into an intoxicating kiss, roaming her tongue inside the roof of your mouth

Alex pulls you onto her lap without breaking the kiss, placing you onto her slanted thighs due to her sitting on her legs. You grind slowly against her, attempting to get some kind of friction as your chest presses up against hers. Your girlfriend smirks into the kiss, feeling your arousal smear across her skin.

She slips two digits back inside of you, curling them into your g-spot. A loud moan escapes your lips as your legs tighten around her waist, causing the heels of your feet to push into her back. Your hands also find their way to her shoulder blades, leaving dark red scratches as she pumps her fingers into you.

“Right there.” You gasp as Alex thrusts her fingers into the perfect spot. The bed frame pounds against the wall from your girlfriend’s digits bouncing in and out of you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She whispers into your ear, pressing a sweet kiss under it to your jaw. You quickly nod your head as your eyes squeeze shut with a loud moan, enticing the girl below you to thrust faster.

“I’m gonna, oh god, ‘m gonna cum, baby.”

“Cum for me.”

Your walls clamp around Alex’s fingers as a flow of juices runs down her hand while you moan in ecstasy, grinding down to push you through your orgasm.

Once your hips stop, she pulls her fingers out of you and places them in front of your mouth. You obediently open and suck, licking off all your arousal while swirling your tongue around them. She watches you with blown-out pupils and a slacked jaw.

“If you think we’re done after you just did that, you’re sorely mistaken.” Her arms wrap around her waist and slam you back onto the bed, making you giggle at her riled-up nature.

The next morning you make your way into the breakfast lobby with Alex’s arm around your waist. Right as everyone catches eye on the both of you, a bunch of whistling and whooping sounds through the room.

“Get it, Morgan. Didn’t know you could do all that.” Trinity cheers while smacking on her gum with a smirk.

Everyone gets their little comments in while your girlfriend just smiles smugly and continues to kiss your temple with her arm remaining on your shoulders. In your flustered state, all you do is hide your face into her neck and try to avoid all of the attention.

#alex morgan x reader #alex morgan smut #alex morgan #naomi girma #trinity rodman #lindsey horan #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso smut #uswnt #uswnt x reader

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

Text

Nico wakes up with a mouthful of hair.

“Are you serious.”

He sticks out his tongue, trying to get it out of his mouth without spitting on it, giving up after about four point three seconds of trying. He wriggles his arm out from where it’s pinned between his body and Will’s, flicking the last few strands off his tongue. For good measure, he kicks the first thing he can reach — his boyfriend’s thighs, go figure — in protest.

“Please, no,” Will mumbles tiredly, batting blindly under the cover until he slaps on big hand over Nico’s ankle, squeezing. “Please. I got in at three thirty last night. It’s barely seven. Please.”

Nico sighs, relaxing his muscles. Will presses a brief kiss to his shoulder in gratitude, face buried in his chest, sinking boneless into him.

“The whole knowing the time without a clock thing will never stop being weird,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to a freckled forehead. He rubs his hands over Will’s bare shoulders, digging his thumbs along the knotted muscles, and smiles as he groans, trying in vain to plaster somehow closer to Nico, practically melting into him. “Gracie keep you up all night?”

He shifts as he nods. “Harley, too. Poor things just want someone to hold their hair outta their face and rub their back, they’re so miserable.”

Nico hums in sympathy. It’s flu season — hitting the little kids, mostly. Will has been on his feet for days trying to mitigate symptoms, soothe aching bones and sore throats. There’s not too much he can do for the flu, but the kids are miserable and they trust him, so his presence is more of a cure and a comfort than anything.

“Kayla there now?”

“Austin and Lou. Kayla’s on after lunch; Piper’s with her.”

“Good.” He squeezes his shoulders again, leaning down to press a long, lingering kiss right between his eyes. He leans into it, sighing. “Sleep for a bit, okay? I’ll come check on you, but I don’t want you up before 2.”

“‘Kay,” Will sighs, unconscious again by the time Nico’s wiggled out of his hold. For a moment he stands, watching him: his bare, broad back, spattered with dark freckles and moles, dipping at the base of his spine and covered barely by the soft, white sheets; arms curled up all the way around his face in Nico’s absence, bicep squeezing his cheek, pursing his delicate Cupid’s bow; long, light eyelashes fanning over round cheeks; even, steady breathing, in and out, in and out.

Golden hair, of course, frizzy and messy and poofing out around his head; haloed in the early morning sun.

He’s barely able to tear himself away to go shower.

———

“They’re everywhere,” says Kayla in disgust, peeling a long, curly strand off her shirt. “I haven’t been in the same room as him in two days. This is a brand-new shirt. How am I still somehow covered in his hair?”

“He’s like a dog,” Austin explains. Nico snorts. “He sheds, and at first it’s subtle, here and there, you get used to it. The suddenly two years go by and people are complimenting the fur coat that was not fur before you bought it.”

Gracie sticks out her bottom lip, eyes watering. “Will is not a dog, he’s a boy!”

Austin groans, muttering something about favourites and annoying older brothers and where was this energy when I ate the last secret cabin twinkie and was accused of being a ratbag, huh, Gracie, where was my defense squad and annoying older brothers again. Gracie is unmoved by his whining, glaring at him with big green eyes — ever her oldest brother’s defender.

Nico hides a smile in his hand. No wonder, with how Will dotes on her. On all his siblings, really, but only Yan and Gracie are young enough that it doesn’t embarrass them.

Kayla and Austin, on the other hand. (At this point, Will enjoys embarrassing them in front of their friends as much as the actual doting.)

Kayla, weak to her sister’s pouting, pokes her playfully in the side. “I’m only teasing, Gracie-girl. Of course Will isn’t a dog.”

“Except the shedding, and the constant yapping, and the fact that if you don’t let him loose to run around for a while he goes batty, and of course the following Nico around like a lovesick pup—”

“Thank you, Austin,” Nico interrupts, clearing his throat. He sends a quick prayer of thanks to his father for hair genetics covering his flaming ears.

Austin snickers. “Anytime.”

After three years it’s futile, but sometimes Nico really considers rescinding his doctor’s note. Is sitting here during meals really worth his peace? Is it?

“He really does shed, though,” Kayla says after a moment of silence. She pinched yet another hair off her shirt, sighing. “Like, not to agree with Austin or anything —”

“Hey!”

“— but, like, damn. If he’s been there, you know it.”

Nico snorts. “Tell me about it. I keep finding hair on my pillows, it’s driving me insane.”

It does drive him insane. He finds it in the shower — although to his credit Will really does try to get them all there — and in his hairbrush, on his clothes, his sheets, his mattress. The floor. Once, notably, on the shrine in his cabin, after which Will had panicked and sprinted to the pavilion to scrape an entire pot roast and pray not to get smited, leaving Nico to laugh himself to tears at the base of it.

Too late, he notices the total silence at the Apollo table, the wide eyes boring holes into his head, the loose, dropped jaws.

“What?” he says, shoulders curled defensively.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, realization dawns on him. He chokes on a grape.

“You two didn’t tell us?” Austin demands. “How long has this —” he gestures vaguely at Nico and at the infirmary, which, he assumes, is meant to represent Will — “been going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezes. With his rapidly asphyxiating brain, he attempts to summon his boyfriend, still conked out, via sheer force of will. GET THE HELL UP AND COME RUN DAMAGE CONTROL, he screams silently.

Predictably, this does nothing.

Kayla shrieks. “Oh my gods, look at his face! They’ve been doing this forever!”

Nico bangs his hands on the table, trying at once to convey his protest and also hi, hello, children of the god of medicine, I am choking to death, fix please. Neither signal gets picked up, inhabitants of the table erupting an a screeching series of questions so loud that other campers notice, understand, and approach, equally as screechy.

“Will and Nico are together?”

“Holy shit! Since when?”

“I thought they’d never get out of the pining stage!”

“Don’t they hate each other?”

“Bro, are you stupid? Do you not know what bad flirting is?”

“Hey, is di Angelo turning purple, or is that just me?”

Throwing himself into the nearest shadow, Nico disappears.

———

“Get up, get up, I fucked up, I fucked up!”

Will shoots straight upright with a gasp, force of his own body sending him careening right over the side of the bed. He goes down in a tangled heap of cursing and yelping and ow, fuck, shit-damns.

“What happened?” he demands as soon as he’s free from his fabric prison. He rushes (stumbles) over to wear Nico is still wheezing, hands braced on his knees, for dizziness now as much as to catch his breath. “Neeks, woah, slow down for a sec. Deep breaths with me.”

He tries to follow along to Will’s exaggerated breathing, steady, long inhales and exhales. A calloused hand touches the curve of his neck, warmth blooming under it, and suddenly his airways are cleared.

“Thanks,” he manages hoarsely, breathing back somewhat under control.

Will squeezes his hand. “No problem.”

There are several pillow creases criss-crossing on his cheeks, making him look soft and sleepy, although his eyes are alert, crinkled in poorly-concealed amusement. His hair is somehow more mussed than when Nico left him this morning.

“What happened?”

“So I. Um.” Nico clears his throat. “Your bother was roasting you for shedding like a dog. I, of course, had to join —”

Will rolls his eyes, mouth twitching. “Of course.”

“— and I mentioned super casually that I get your hair all over my shit, right? And, well — well.”

“Well?” Will prods, when Nico cuts himself off. Chancing a glance, Nico finds he doesn’t look angry, or nervous, or disappointed — and of course he wouldn’t. Not for something as silly as this.

He is gonna laugh, though. Nico hates when he’s righteously clowned.

“Well, I.” He lowers his voice to a mumble. “May have said something about all of your hair that ends up on my pillows.”

For a moment it’s silent. Nico keeps his eyes trained away, although he leans into Will’s touch, his hands in his face, the side of his neck, the warmth thrown off his sleep-addled body.

He’s almost startled by the giggle.

Almost.

“…Oh, you dumbass.”

He tries very hard to look annoyed as Will cracks up. He taps his foot, crosses his arms, and tries very, very hard to frown, but Will’s laugh has always been the most musical thing about him, and he loves to serenade. And Nico is very weak to song.

“Stop laughing at me,” he snaps, without heat.

Will’s cheeks puff up from the force of him trying, face going red around the edges.

“I’m trying, Neeks, I am —”

“Not very hard.”

“I am, I am.” Valiantly, he draws in a deep breath, only breaking into giggles twice before managing to hold a somewhat straight face. “Nico,” he says, suddenly very close and very warm, “I love you.” He presses a kiss to his forehead. “And I love sneaking around with you —” the bridge of his nose — “and making out in dark closets —” his cheeks, both, quickly, one after the other — “and behind the Big House —” the base of his jaw — “and in the —”

“I get it,” Nico interrupts, flushing. He can feel the curve of Will’s smile against his skin.

“My cabin, if it’s empty,” Will murmurs, kissing the underside of his jaw, his neck. “Yours.” Slight nip of his teeth. Nico gasps.

“Will,” he whispers. His knees start to shake. “Will, c’mon, we gotta —”

Will presses a kiss square to his Adam’s apple, lingering. “We’re in yours quite a lot. I’ve gotten used to it, honestly, Neeks, I —”

The door bangs open, making both of them yelp. The matching screeches to not help the general air of panic and sitcom level foolishness.

“Oh my gods, you really are porking!”

“Get out, Kayla!” they both yell together.

“Jesus,” Will curses, forehead resting on Nico’s shoulder.

Nico bites his lip. Will shifts, turning to meet his eye.

They last two whole seconds before losing it.

“Three years of sneaking around without so much as a soul finding out,” Nico huffs as Will snickers. “Three whole years.”

Will pecks him loudly and exaggeratedly on the cheek. “And endless more in the open.”

“You’re such a goddamn cheeseball.”

“And yet you’re in deep, deep love with me.”

“…I am.” He cradles his face, pressing a kiss, finally, to his lips. Will presses back, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#i’m sorry i love secret relationship so so much #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #established relationship #secret relationship #fluff and humour #apollo kids #my writing #fic #longpost

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literaila · 8 months ago

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it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

last part | next part

year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words.

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day.

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart.

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.”

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces.

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly.

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.”

“i wasn’t mean.”

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.”

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.”

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.”

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.”

“well, i do! you’re my brother.”

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.”

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“

“i’ve never complained—“

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.”

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed.

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last.

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling.

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down.

this seems… different.

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ.

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work.

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end.

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language.

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture.

satoru would do it if he was here.

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle.

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance.

you make a mental note to look it up later.

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea.

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces.

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?”

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question.

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care.

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried.

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her.

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.”

“you told her not to talk to you!”

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?”

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.”

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?”

you turn, “megumi—“

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes.

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do.

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.”

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?”

“maybe.”

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.”

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“

“why are you always—“

“guys.”

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice.

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further.

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh.

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that.

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through.

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of.

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.”

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.”

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now.

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious.

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait.

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time.

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.”

they both glare at each other.

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary.

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.”

you both look at megumi, waiting.

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“

“megumi.”

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head.

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.”

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.”

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything.

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess.

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off."

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break.

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.”

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.”

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing.

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago.

“chiyo's my friend!”

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.”

“but you were mean.”

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated.

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.”

“maybe they just suck.”

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart.

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you.

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out."

"by yelling at each other?"

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--"

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other.

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker.

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes.

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them.

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off.

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered.

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door.

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or...

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way.

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that.

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think."

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug.

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them."

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in."

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?"

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way.

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something."

"we're communicating."

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically.

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them."

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously.

"and neither will your parenting skills."

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me."

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?"

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those."

"satoru."

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block."

you look at him blandly.

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology.

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you.

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face.

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you.

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen.

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option.

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard.

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going.

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in.

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it."

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty."

"well, i taught him that."

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did."

"of course you didn't."

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?"

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it."

"who?"

you frown. "chiyo?"

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki."

"behind her back?"

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding.

"oh."

"yeah, oh."

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad."

you shake your head at him, tsking.

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same.

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin.

it's a very unpleasant feeling.

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly.

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while."

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well.

next part | series masterlist

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arislore · 1 month ago

Text

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚જ⁀➴ Can’t You Just Sleep?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x insomniac!Reader

Summary: You had a dream that gave you anxiety and Spencer wants to comfort you by talking it out.

Warnings: Reader is kind of rude at one point (just sleepy w no tone control, i prommy), Reader’s mom also sucks.

Tags: this one’s actually a story y’all 🤞🏻, Reader has hair that goes past her ears. also this is incredibly self-indulgent because i literally had these dreams last night.

Word Count: 500

You wake up sweaty, feeling like you can’t quite catch your breath. Next to you, Spencer stirs, his arm draping around your waist.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep.

“Yeah,” you say softly, scooting closer to him. “Just had a really weird dream.”

He hummed, his fingers dancing along your spine. “Tell me about it?”

You smile wistfully, moving your head so that you’re looking at his face. “No thanks. It’s too silly.”

He grinned, pulling you by your hips so that you’re flush against him. “I love silly things.”

You sigh, looking down until your forehead connects with his chest. “You were just, like, really mad at me. And, like, I clearly fucked up, you know? Like, big time. But I don’t actually know what I did wrong.”

He kissed the top of your head, moving his hand up towards your shoulder, then back down in slow, rubbing movements. “I think I know why.”

You pout. “You only get to tell me if you’re not profiling me.”

“I’m not, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“You were talking to your mom yesterday.” He said.

“Yeah, and?” You took a deep breath, letting yourself calm down as he talks.

He pushed your hair behind your ear, his thumb tapping on your cheek. “Well, I know she makes you feel that way, and often.”

“You are profiling me.” You roll your eyes. “I knew it.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just saying that the way you were feeling when you went to sleep may have influenced your dreams.”

“Yeah, well, if you know so much, why did I dream about a merman getting stuck under a shipping container, then?” You snap, pulling away.

He chuckled. “A shipping container?”

You realize how pathetic you sound, but you continue anyway.

“Yeah. It fell off a cargo ship,” you say, as if it were obvious.

“I see.” He paused, grabbing your hand. “Were you a merman in this scenario?”

“I was a mermaid. You know, for someone who’s supposedly a genius, you know very little about the sexual dimorphism of faeries,” you joke, intertwining your fingers with him.

He smiled. “You got me there.”

“I also had a dream that I was a bridesmaid and it was really hot, and I had to walk up a hill. And I was already in my dress and makeup and had my hair done. It was so sweaty.” You smile, moving flush against him again.

“Who’s wedding was it?” He asked, bringing a hand to your hip.

“I don’t know. I just know that another bridesmaid was trying to get courted.”

“Courted?”

“Yeah, she used that exact word. I was like, ‘You can worry about getting courted tomorrow, lady. Today is her wedding.’ but I don’t know who I was defending.” Your eyes begin to feel heavy, so you close them, nuzzling his chest.

“Getting tired?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“So tired.”

“Sleep,” he said softly, kissing the top of your head.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid flashfiction #spencer reid flashfic #spencer reid flash fic #spencer reid flash fiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid cm #spencer reid comfort

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weneepie · 3 months ago

Note

HEYYY !! I have a request 😼what about reader who want to go out late a night to ser her friend having a hatd time without warning jason and suddenly jason come back of patrol more earlier and scold her , but reader is upset about jason reaction , but jason just want to protect her …

worried w/ red hood rules | m.list

note. hiii! thank you sm for your request omg i love jason sm of course i'd do that ; worried jason is adorable, my boy is doing his best <3 feel free to request anything else!

You were supposed to be here. He left you alone in your apartment before he left for his night patrol. So why weren’t you here anymore? Where were you? Jason thought he was about to go crazy. He was searching everywhere, calling your phone, but you weren’t answering at all.

Yes, he came back earlier than usual, but it wasn't a reason to disappear, was it? What if something bad had happened while he was gone? Jason was making the worst scenarios in his head. Until he heard the sound of the door opening. He turned around and you arrived in the living room, a bit surprised.

You didn’t have the time to say anything that Jason was standing in front of you, a visible frown across his eyebrows. “Where the hell were you?!” His voice was too loud, too angry ; you didn’t like that at all. You slowly raised an eyebrow at his tone, feeling the slight irritation growing inside of you.

“My friend needed me, so I left to see her.” You explained but it didn’t calm Jason at all. “You know Gotham’s not safe at night. What if you got attacked, or worse?” He was clearly angry, but it simply made you angry too. You weren’t a child, you didn’t need him to act like he was your own father.

“Quit yelling at me, would ya?” Your tone was harsh, and it caught him off guard. He wasn’t so used to any reaction like this from you, so he was taken aback. He was about to answer when you pointed at his chest, looking into his eyes. “I don’t need you to protect myself, Jason. I’m a grown adult!” And in those words, you left the living room to get locked up in the bathroom. You really needed a shower.

Jason stayed alone in here, standing up and a bit lost about what just happened. Did he get too far? He knew you were strong enough to defend yourself ; he loved you for that. But he couldn’t help it ; he was always worried when he knew you were alone in the streets at night. He meant what he said: Gotham wasn’t safe at all, and he knew what he was talking about.

He saw so many people get hurt without any reason, and he was just so scared to lose you. Anger was his only way to express those feelings, but making you mad was the last thing he ever wanted. So he sat on the couch and waited for you to get out of the bathroom. It took you long minutes, and he was almost falling asleep. Or at least, he would have if he wasn’t thinking so much about what he wanted to tell you.

When you joined the living room again, your gaze met his figure and you rolled your eyes. You sat next to him in silence, hating this stupid sad look on his face. You hated to see it, but he needed to understand what was wrong. Jason took your hand softly in his. “Look at me, please… I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to react like this.” You turned around, meeting his eyes ; and he knew he wasn’t lying. There was too much sincerity in it for that ; you knew him by heart.

You stayed silent, waiting for him to keep going for a moment. He breathed out softly, leaving a gentle kiss against your knuckles. “I was just… worried. I’m always so scared when you’re alone out there. I know you’re strong ; but those guys can be crazy.” And how could you blame him? You knew Jason got through hell because of one of them. You finally completely turned to face him, grabbing both his hands between yours.

“I’m not angry because you’re worried. I am because you yelled at me like I was completely dumb and not careful.” He slowly nodded at your words, understanding that he didn’t react the way he should have. Your hand gently moved to his cheek so you could stroke it with your thumb so slightly. Jason leaned onto your touch, eyes now closed at the feeling.

You felt like home for him, and he’d rather die than having to lose this feeling once more. He left a soft kiss against the palm of your hand, making you smile lightly. “I’d be careful with my reactions,” he told you, looking back at your eyes. You leaned forward a little, leaving a small peck against his lips. “And I won’t leave without telling you where I am.”

A silent agreement, so things could work. Jason was making so many efforts for you, all the time ; the less you could do was to do some efforts too. Moreover, Jason was clearly worth it. The boy needed a comfort and safe place to calm his home ; and you were ready to be this for him.

thank you!!

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