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starcrossed-lov3rz · 3 months

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The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

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“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions.

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.”

Silence.

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention.

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin.

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out.

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair.

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.”

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them.

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.”

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-”

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly.

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home.

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest.

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks.

“How long have we been married?”

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her.

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years.

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his.

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #married life #isekai #game of thrones #reader insert #fem reader #hotd daemon #hotd rhaenyra #hotd fic

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charliemwrites · 8 months

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Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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pastryfication · 1 month

Note

Oscar with a brunette girlfriend who burns really, really, really easily in the sun

i loved writing this so thank you for requesting!! i didn’t specify the hair colour, so you can imagine whatever you want xx

it’s also based a bit on my parents (my dad burns so easily and my mum is constantly fussing over him), so i really hope you like it

beach day precautions | oscar piastri

the sun is glaring down with a fierce intensity that promises a day full of warmth, as you set up the towels. smoothing them out on the hot floor of sand and unpacking your things from the beach bag you brought is quickly done, and as soon as you ready yourself to lay down, oscar reaches for the sunscreen.

"hold still," he demands teasingly, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. you roll your eyes, but you don't resist. you know he's right. if you had your way, you'd probably be a lobster by midday.

his hands are gentle but thorough as he applies the sunscreen, ensuring every inch of your exposed skin is covered. while he works, he mutters something about spf 50 and how it should be spf 100, just to be safe. you smile, appreciating his care even if it borders on obsessive. it’s one of the many ways he shows he loves you.

when he is content with the job, he pulls back from you slightly, eyes roaming your body to make sure he got everything covered.

"you missed a spot," you tease, pointing to your nose.

oscar huffs in mock frustration but dabs a little extra sunscreen on your nose, making sure to spread it evenly. "there you go. happy now?"

"ecstatic," you reply, giving him a quick kiss before he can fuss over any other potential missed spots. “but now it’s your turn.”

after you’ve covered oscar in sunscreen as well, making sure to smooth your hands over every part of him, spending extra time on his abs, you’re ready to take on the beach.

the two of you spend the morning splashing in the surf, building sandcastles with nothing but your bare hands, and lying together on the towels, watching the waves crash onto the shore. every so often, oscar stops to check your skin, scanning for the telltale signs of a sunburn. despite the layers of sunscreen that he keep adding, you know it's only a matter of time.

by early afternoon, the inevitable happens. a pink tinge starts to appear on your shoulders. it's faint but unmistakable. oscar notices immediately. "alright, that's it," he declares, pulling his t-shirt from your bag. before you can protest, he's draping it over your shoulders, shielding you from the rays of the sun.

"osc, i'm fine," you insist, but he shakes his head, his expression solemn.

"no arguments. i don't want you getting burned." he gently adjusts the shirt to make sure it covers as much of your skin as possible. "we should head back under the umbrella.”

you sigh, knowing he's right, but you can't help but feel a bit disappointed that your beach time is over already. he seems to read your thoughts and smiles. "hey, we can still enjoy the beach from the shade. plus, it's a perfect excuse for some ice cream."

his optimism is contagious, and under the umbrella, with his shirt still draped over your shoulders, the two of you savor the sweet, cold treat. oscar sits close, his arm around you, as if shielding you from any more harm the sun might inflict.

"thank you," you say, leaning into him. “for taking care of me.”

"anytime," he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "that’s what i’m here for."

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hgfictionwriter · 20 days

Text

Self Control: Part Seven - Proposing

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You are part of Jessie's future and she wants to make it official. With a ring and a plan, she lets you know how much you and your growing family mean to her.

Warnings: G!P smut. G!P sex, preg and breeding kinks, some possessive language/content, language.

A/N: Mostly fluff, but a bit of smut as well. The rest of the series can be found here. Thank you all for reading!

“Jess!”

“Yeah?” Jessie called back, her gaze lifting from her bag towards the bedroom.

“Can you come here?” You called back.

Jessie huffed quietly. She was focused on making sure absolutely everything was in order and didn’t want to get distracted. She triple checked the placement of the small black box before she zipped up the bag and headed into the bedroom where you were getting changed.

She’d planned a hike for you two this morning. Nothing crazy strenuous, but a lesser known, still very scenic path that she hoped wouldn’t be too busy at this hour.

When Jessie walked in she saw you standing sideways in front of the mirror and examining your profile. You had your shirt raised and your pants undone with one hand gliding over your stomach. You looked up to her as she approached.

“I think I’m starting to show,” you relayed with an undertone of wonderment. You eyes returned to the mirror. “Or my pants are just snug because of, you know, all my snacking lately.”

Jessie vaguely registered your joke and offered a faint laugh, but she was much too focused on the first half of what you said. Her eyes were set on your torso as she came up, she laid two hands on your stomach, her thumbs softly caressing and feeling.

She felt your eyes on her and she lowered herself to knees in front of you to get a better look. Tension settled in her forehead as she examined you, looking for signs of what she’d been hoping to see from the beginning.

A slow smile spread across her face as she noted the slightest swell. She looked up at you right away, eyes shimmering and meeting your curious frown. She kissed your stomach.

“I think you’re showing, too,” Jessie said brightly.

You were nearly at the 4 month mark, so it was still a touch early, but all things indicated that your baby was growing well and growing strong, so showing now was entirely possible. Sure, you’d been bloated at various times, of course, but this seemed different.

She laid another, lingering kiss on the slight swell of your stomach where your baby was starting to make themselves known. She pulled back, looking at the very subtle bump, her hands still resting on it.

“Hi,” Jessie said, her voice soft but brimming with excitement. “Hi my little one. Are you growing nice and big for us? Momma’s doing such a good job of taking care of you.” She offered you a smile. “Gosh, I can’t believe we’ll finally be able to see you. In some sense anyway. Pretty soon you’ll be able to give us a soft,” she gave you an exaggerated look, “kick to let us know you’re good and happy.”

You rest one hand on top of Jessie’s and the other caressed her hair. You looked down to your stomach as well.

“Considering who your mommy is, you’ll probably be quite the kicker,” you chuckled, stroking your stomach now. “Try to go easy on me.”

Jessie laughed and kissed your belly once more.

“Alright, little one. I’m going to take Momma on a nice hike this morning. Get some fresh air, get the blood flowing. And someday, we’ll get to take you on hikes too. Carrying you on my back, your little head peeking over my shoulder as you’re pointing at all the trees and things you’re curious about - I can’t wait to show you and tell you all about them.”

A light blush formed on her face as she stood up, now more fully aware of your adoring gaze. She smiled coyly as you kissed her cheek. She pulled you into a gentle hug before stepping back.

“Are you okay to wear these?” She asked as she gestured to your hiking pants. No stores would be open right now, so if you needed a new pair, there was no way you’d be on the trail before the crowds. A small wave of anxiety started to build in the back of Jessie’s mind at the thought, but it quickly diminished with a nod of your head.

“They’re tight, but they’re fine. I’ll need something a bit more forgiving soon though,” you said with a laugh.

“Okay, sounds good.”

——————

Jessie carried the backpack as you two walked the trail between the trees. Rays of light from the early sun filtered through the branches and leaves and Jessie shouldn’t have been surprised to see at least a few other people on the trail, but it worked her up nonetheless.

“Can we stop for a sec?” You asked as you stilled and she stopped with you. “I need some water.”

“Of course,” Jessie said readily as she retrieved the water bottle and handed it to you.

You gulped down a few sips and offered it back to her with a slight frown.

“Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet this morning,” you teased lightly.

Jessie’s eyebrows raised in surprise as she took a swig of water.

“Oh? No, I’m fine. I’m just appreciating my surroundings,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“Alright, if you say so,” you said, not entirely convinced, but accepting it regardless.

“How are you feeling? Okay still?” Jessie inquired. You gave her a slightly chiding look.

“I’m totally fine. Thank you for asking though.”

She nodded and offered you the water bottle again, which you waved off. She tucked it away.

“Ready to go?”

It was true that she was quieter than usual, and that remained true as you carried on up the trail. Jessie had idly thought about this moment for years, but in recent months it was crisp, clear and front of mind.

She thought anxiously about the little box she tucked away earlier. Did she put it in there? Yes. Did she check that the ring was inside? Yes - where else would it be? What was she going to say? She knew. And even if she didn’t, her feelings for you were so deeply engrained she could’ve come up with something on the spot anyway.

She was driving herself crazy. She barely slept the night before. And she knew it was silly. You were having her baby, thrilled about it too, you were buying a house together, you were so compatible - she knew you would say ‘yes’. Yet, she laid there last night as cuddled up to you as she could get without waking you, nervous, yet one look at you put her at ease.

It filled her with a sense of awe - taking in your sleeping form last night or glancing over at you this morning as you walked - this woman who, years and years prior, Jessie didn’t even know existed, but now could never live without.

In some ways it was hard to picture a life before you. And it’s not that she felt unhappy before you - she’d had a very good, privileged life, full of loving family, great friends, and amazing experiences. Sure, her romantic life had never really been much to shout about, but she hadn’t really cared. She had more than enough to keep her busy and her life didn’t lack for care and love.

Yet, once you came into her life, from the moment her chest first twinged when you laughed at one of her lame jokes and smiled at her the way you do, everything changed. How could life have been complete before you? It certainly wouldn’t be without you, now.

Jessie was so lost in her thoughts that before she knew it you were both arriving at the ridge. You stopped as you reached the lookout.

“Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful, Jess,” you said as you surveyed the view before you. “Oh, look, you can see the river cutting through over there.”

She looked to where you pointed, but frankly she was more enamoured with the pink tinge of your cheeks, the dewiness of your skin and the way your shoulders rose and fell.

Her eyes were trained on you as she swung her backpack around and unzipped it. She reached it, but stilled when she heard voices coming up the path behind her.

You both looked over your shoulders to see a couple walking up. Jessie subconsciously frowned at them, glaring probably, but relaxed her features when they smiled at you both and gave a small wave of greeting.

Jessie huffed quietly as she snuck the box into her pocket and flung her bag back over her shoulder.

“Let’s take a picture,” you told her as you beckoned her in. She tried to refocus on the moment and gave you a delayed smile as she wrapped an arm around you and you took a few photos together. She snuck a kiss against your cheek and adored the way you giggled about it.

Jessie walked around, very determinedly looking around and taking pictures as she waited out the other couple. They were finally retreating down the path when suddenly spotted a few bright pops of colour approaching through the trees.

“Are you kidding me?” She thought as a new set of hikers approach. She exhaled steadily through her nose and kicked lightly at the ground.

“When do you want to go back?” You asked after a few more minutes.

“Um, I’m just capturing a few more pics,” she said with a shrug as she continued to look through the viewfinder of her camera. You nodded an occupied yourself by wandering elsewhere on the ridge.

Several more minutes passed and Jessie could feel the tension in her shoulders growing as the other group lingered.

"I love that you appreciate nature the way that you do, but I'm going to have to go pee if we stay up here for that much longer," you told her and Jessie let out an irritated sigh. You shot her a look. "Oh, I'm sorry if your baby pushing on my bladder is an inconvenience for you," you said only half joking. "I'm fine peeing in the bush, I was just letting you know. Geez."

Now Jessie was really stressed. She shot a mild glare at the hikers who now finally seemed to be gathering up their things to leave.

"I'm sorry, babe," Jessie said imploringly, though her eyes were still on the group. She lowered her voice. "I just- I'm just irritated that there are other hikers here. It's not you. I promise."

"Why does that matter?"

Jessie didn't answer right away as her eyes followed the group disappearing down the path. She waited them out and could feel the annoyance start to emanate off of you.

As the last person disappeared out of sight she spun around on her heel to face you, that weight of tension dissipating immediately only to be replaced with a new kind as she stood before you and the significance of this moment began to mount.

You stood before her, arms now folded over your chest as you scrutinized her before holding out a hand in question. Despite how cross you were, Jessie couldn't help but smile at you.

"What?" You asked, mild irritation in your voice.

Jessie continued to smile at you. "I just love you," she said simply.

You rolled your eyes and looked away, but allowed a half smile to peek out across your lips.

"Yeah, alright," you mumbled, granting a small glance back at her, the smile on your face more than a hint now.

"I really do," she repeated. You looked at her again, now holding her gaze and she knew you were about to fire a quip of some kind at her. She spoke first.

"I have for so long," she went on. "When we first met, sitting around that boardroom I couldn't stop looking at you." You smirked, laughing lightly.

"I noticed," you said, as you always did when you both talked about that moment. Jessie chuckled and took your hands in hers.

"It wasn't just how you looked. It was how you carried yourself. The way you spoke. The way you approached things. Without even knowing you, I was curious to know your opinions, your thoughts - I wanted to know everything," she said.

"And thankfully we had to keep talking," you added. You shrugged playfully. "Which was alright. A few people around the office had talked about what a big deal it was having you onside for a project; guess I had to see what the fuss was all about."

"And thankfully I impressed you enough that you were willing to go for coffee with me even though the collab was over," she said. "You made me so nervous, yet entirely calm at the same time. I was already falling for you by the time we went on that date. By the end? It was a done deal."

"Date," you emphasized with a laugh as Jessie chuckled. "I still can't believe you didn't tell me that was a date."

She tilted her chin up pridefully with a grin. "I knew it was a date." She lifted your hand and kissed it, pulling a smirk out of you.

"Well, I figured it out when you kissed me at the end," you teased. Jessie gave an exaggerated shrug.

"What can you do? When it's right, it's right." She grew earnest. "And with you, it's the only time it's felt right to me. From the beginning to now. Every up, and even the downs - I've never had any doubt that we would ride them out together. That we'd choose each other every night and every day. Whether it's something small or simple, like going to the market together or tidying up the apartment, or something huge, like starting a family together - it's you and only you for me."

Jessie took in the soft smile on your face as she spoke and noted the shift of surprise as she lowered herself to one knee and released your hand to reach into her pocket. She couldn't help but laugh affectionately at the expression on your face as she revealed the small box and opened it before you.

When she'd pictured this moment, she anticipated she'd be a bundle of nerves, heart racing, pulse pounding in her ears. Instead, she smiled up at you and spoke easily.

"You've been so much more to me than a girlfriend for so long. And there is absolutely no word or title that could properly capture what you mean to me, but, until there's something even more, I would be honoured to call you my wife. Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Jess," you said sweetly with a soft laugh as you gave her a light tug, coaxing her to her feet and you pulled her into a kiss. "Of course I will," you said when you pulled back, a hand on her cheek. Jessie beamed with a happy laugh and you pulled her into a tight hug.

You suddenly laughed as you held one another in this embrace. "I was going to say, 'You don't even have to ask' but I guess you do."

Jessie chuckled and gave you a squeeze before pulling back and kissing you once more.

"Are you going to wear my ring or what?" She joked as she held up the box. "You're doing this all out of order."

"Then put it on me," you said with as you held out her hand for her. She smiled at you before she slid the ring onto your finger. She looked up at you inquiringly as you held your hand up to look at the ring.

"It's beautiful, Jess," you told her and she set her shoulders back proudly at your approval. You narrowed your eyes at her teasingly. "And just because I'm going to be your wife doesn't mean you can control me. I'll do things in whatever order I want," you went on haughtily.

"Don't I know it," she accepted with an affectionate smirk.

You kissed her once more and when you drew back, the expression on your face cause Jessie to frown.

"I hope you're not just proposing because I'm pregnant. I'm not that traditional - clearly," you questioned. "I only want to get married if that's truly what you want. Not just because you feel the two have to go hand in hand."

Jessie was shaking her head adamantly before you were even done speaking.

"That's not it. I guess it seems that way, but no. You were going to be my wife at one point or another - granted you'd say 'yes' -" she interjected with a mumble, "so why not now? I mean, we've lived together for years, we're having a baby together, we're buying a house together. We're as good as married, why not make it official?"

You gave her a soft smile and kissed her cheek.

"True. And let me be really clear - yes, I do want to marry you. But," Jessie's chest seized up and she did her best to not show it. "because of all the things you mentioned, I don't want to get married now."

"I-I don't understand," Jessie said, blinking at you as she tried to process your wishes.

You moved in closer to her, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck and looked into her eyes. Jessie held you in her arms, the feeling so natural despite the uncertainty around what you meant.

"We're having a baby. We're buying a house and moving. A wedding alone would be a huge undertaking - as much as both of us would want something small and intimate, I really don't know how it'll be possible - so especially in that case, it's going to take a lot of planning and effort. I just feel like we have so much on our plate already. I think our little one is setting the timeline for us - calling the shots already, can you believe it?" You paused with a smile, but carried on as Jessie's expression remained unchanged.

"I don't want to rush a wedding. And, say what you want, but the thought of being pregnant during our wedding or leading up to it just doesn't sound like fun. And I'd love for our baby to be part of our day. All I'm saying is, I don't know when we'll get married. But yes, I absolutely want to marry you."

"That's more than good enough for me. Sounds incredible, in fact," Jessie accepted with a nod, nerves now settled and her mind now thinking about your baby being part of wedding. "They could be in our pictures. Maybe a little, tiny ring bearer - oh my gosh," she went on. You laughed adoringly.

"You're such a softie," you teased. Jessie snuck a kiss.

"To be clear, I wasn't necessarily thinking of a wedding right away, I just wanted to make it official that I want you to be my wife, and I want to be yours."

"I love that," you told her as you gave her a slow kiss. You held up her hand in yours after. "Can we get you a ring now, too? If I'm going to wear your ring for the next couple of years, I want you to wear one as well."

Jessie smiled brightly, her chest warming at the thought of you wanting to stake claim on her as well.

"That sounds amazing to me."

-------

That afternoon, Jessie laid freshly showered on the bed in shorts and a t-shirt reading as she waited for you to finish showering. You came out wrapped in a towel and walked over to the dresser to start pulling some clothes out.

"Hey, this first," Jessie said as she beckoned you over, your ring held between her fingers. You smiled and walked over to her side of the bed and held out your hand for her. She beamed as she slid the ring onto your finger again.

"You look very pleased with yourself," you teased as you eventually pulled your hand back.

"That's one way of putting it," she reciprocated with a smug grin. "I think it looks perfect on your hand. Can't believe I didn't give you a ring sooner."

You snickered at her. "I'm a little surprised too considering how possessive you can be." As if on cue, Jessie's eyes flashed with that familiar sensation.

"Mm," she voiced, gripping your hand again and pulling you onto the bed. You held your towel as you straddled her and she placed a hand over yours. "Come on, baby. You don't need this."

You gave her a knowing smirk and allowed her to pull the towel away from your body.

"You're so gorgeous. And you're mine," Jessie said, nearly in a daze as she took you in. "If not for this," she held up your hand, the diamonds in the ring catching the rays of sun that filtered into the room, "then for this," she went on as she laid her other hand atop the subtle swell of your stomach.

"Shit, Jess," you said as you bit your lip and looked away. You returned to meet her with a teasing gaze. "I thought you said you wanted to go to the store."

"The store can wait," she said as she gently rolled her hips up into you, her cock already starting to harden. "I'd rather take care of my fiancée."

"Is that so?" You said playfully as you began to ground yourself back against her.

"Mhmm," Jessie said, her hands now gripping your hips, thumbs digging into the tops of your thighs. She smirked. "We have to consummate our engagement. That's a thing, right?"

"Mm," you nodded. "Definitely."

"Promise me one thing?" You prompted as you continued to work yourself against her. Jessie exhaled unsteadily as she saw cum marks on her shorts from where you were grinding against her.

"Anything," Jessie puffed out as her hands moved with your hips.

"Promise me we'll get married before you knock me up again," you said very nonchalantly. Jessie's eyes shot up from your heat up to your face at the request.

You chuckled and rolled your hips skillfully against her. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she held her breath in her lungs. She exhaled in a laugh at how you smiled, very satisfied with yourself.

"Well, based on everything that's occurred over the past few months. Including how your cock is aching to be inside of me again at the mention of how I'm starting to swell with your baby, I'd say you may be eager for us to make baby #2 sooner rather than later."

"Fuck," Jessie released in a slow breath. "Jesus Christ, babe," she went on as she began to grind herself up into your with greater force.

"Let's get these clothes off of you," you said benevolently as you swung a leg off of her and began to undress her.

Soon enough, you were straddling her once more, your slick folds sliding directly along the length of her cock which was pressed flat against her lower torso now.

"So? Do you promise?" You asked as you slowly slid up and down her, causing her whole body to jolt when you slid against the head of her cock before sliding back down.

She exhaled through her mouth as you rubbed yourself up and down her, small moans starting to fall from your lips as you angled your clit against her. She pulsed as she watched the way her cock spread your lips and you began to coat her length with your arousal.

"I promise," Jessie told you, dragging her eyes up your body to meet yours. "You may need to remind me though," she added with a smirk.

She exhaled again, trying to steady herself as she helped guide your movements. "You are so tempting and you looking so gorgeous already carrying my baby."

"I'll try to remind you," you told her teasingly before you leaned further forward, allowing Jessie's cock to rise up. You positioned yourself and slowly sank down onto her, both of you moaning at the feeling.

Okay. Yes. Fucking you bare and raw with the pure intent of giving you her baby or simply worshiping you for carrying her baby was going to be something she'd miss.

Jessie's mouth hung open as you began to steadily rise and fall on her cock, her fingers digging into your hips to the point that her fingertips were nearly white.

"God, you're beautiful," she said in devotion as she gazed at you. "I can't believe you're going to be my wife."

You leaned down, kissing her deeply as your rode her, rolling your hips in emphasis.

"And you'll be mine."

Jessie sat up, wrapping her arms around your waist as she did so and you braced your hands on her shoulders. She held you in her embrace and kissed you deeper. Though she loved admiring you as you rode her, she wanted to be closer to you and feel you against her as you made love.

"I love you so much," she proclaimed as she began kissing your neck.

"God," you breathed between moans, "I love you, too."

As she held you in her arms, she was overwhelmed.

First, there was the incomparable feeling of how you wrapped tightly around her cock, massaging her up and down as you rode her, along with the sounds of your soft breaths and moans filling her head.

Then there was the reality that you were finally showing; the life that you both made was growing inside of you and your body was changing with it. Jessie could see it, she could feel it; it was a gentle, barely there curve of your stomach, but it was there and it had her feeling so many ways.

And now, you were going to be her wife. It was official. You were wearing her ring and she'd wear yours.

Jessie looked up at you, your cheeks flushed, lips parted as you grew closer and closer to your high. She felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes as all of these emotions and feelings collided. She couldn't believe how lucky she was.

"I love you more than anything," she professed as she kissed down your neck. "My beautiful wife."

"I love you too, Jess. So much. But I'm not your wife just yet," you said with a teasing nibble at her earlobe. She pulled back and gave you a deep frown.

"Don't," she warned.

"What?" You asked innocently as you lifted up and down repeatedly, knowing her so well that you rose exactly to the point where she could nearly pop out to tease her sensitive tip, before sinking down and engulfing her once more. You panted. "Are you picturing me with someone else?"

Jessie growled, clutching you tighter against her and you laughed before giving her a placating kiss.

"Don't be silly. I need to lock you down. I know girls are always fawning over you. It would be easy for you to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else," she responded unequivocally. She held your gaze. "I want you. I want your mind, your body, your soul, your time - I want everything."

She didn't break her gaze. Sometimes you two talked dirty during sex, and sometimes your most open and vulnerable declarations were during it. Regardless of where you fell on this, she needed you to hear her. You kissed her slowly, your hands cupping her face.

"Then I'm yours."

"Always," Jessie said, thrusting harder up into you now. "I need you."

You wrapped your arms more fully around her and rode her faster. "I need you too."

Sweat sheened on both your skin as you both drew closer to your climax.

"Jess," you panted. "I'm so close. I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh fuck," she groaned as a wave of pleasure shot through her length at just the mention of spilling inside of you.

She felt your nails dig into her back and she let out a groan deep in her throat as you began to pulse around her cock and you grasped her body tightly against you, whimpering in her ear.

Jessie let out a cry as she let go and ropes of cum began to coat your insides. Her fingers dug into the small of your back and you arched into her even further as she rest her teeth against your shoulder, and used every ounce of will to not bite down.

You'd stilled, your breathing ragged, and after a while Jessie softened inside of you. When you eventually went to get off of her, she helped you as your legs shook slightly.

Jessie looked down at the pool of cum that had leaked out of you and onto the bed. She smirked at you. "So much for clean sheets."

"Clean sheets? So much for having a shower."

"Well," Jessie said slowly as she kissed your shoulder and began kissing down your arm, "if you're going to shower again, first, we might as well really make it worth it. And secondly, I can help you shower."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #smut fic #woso smut #wlw smut #wlw breeding #g!p

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b14augrana · 2 months

Text

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Nothing gold can stay

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 3 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. this chapter in specific discusses themes of abuse and alcoholism.

A/N: the long awaited part 2 to ‘ad astra per aspera’! this took a lot of thinking and scrapped passages to really get this on point, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

"You’re early today!”

You smiled halfheartedly at Magdalene and Dani’s teacher, nodding at her. “Yeah, uh, I’ve gotta get to work a bit earlier today so…”

“Not a problem, I’ll see you later,” the woman responded. You gave Magdalene and Dani one last hug before returning to your car, having hope that you’d finally be early to training for once and go the day without being berated by Alexia.

You didn’t want to relive the other night’s training, not in your mind, and definitely not in person. With you, Alexia was a completely different person to the patron saint of Barça that everyone painted her as. You wanted to change that and show her you weren’t as irresponsible and careless as she thought you out to be, but you couldn’t.

It was a relief to see the training pitch parking lot barely populated as it came into sight. There was maybe two cars, which meant you were on time. How incredible.

Before every training, a hopeful feeling swelled inside of you — one of happiness, because you saw football as a means of enjoyment and something to look forward to when all else came crashing down in your life. It was short lived of course, but like a phoenix, it always came back one way or another. Were you wrong for believing in your sport to help you?

"(Y/N), you're early.. for once."

You knew that voice all too well. There was a surprised tone that Alexia's voice held as she spoke, and you knew she expected you to show up late once again if not miss practice completely.

"Yeah, surprise," you replied dully, sitting down on the bench to put your boots on.

"Why are you early?" she asked, and it was a bit of a stupid question.

'Well, after you yelled at me in front of everybody the other day, I decided that if I have to drop all three of my siblings off to school, I might as well do it as early as possible so I don't have to worry about getting screamed at and humiliated at half past nine in the morning!'

"Dropped my siblings off earlier today," you mumbled instead, eyes fixated on the ground as you spoke. You were sure that eventually, your fear would be the one to corrupt your family completely, but you couldn't tell Alexia; it was equivalent to opening yourself up to her, being vulnerable even after trying so hard to maintain a tough front.

She glanced at you, her eyebrow just barely raised but her mouth idle. You cinched your laces tightly and sprung to your feet, very aware of her gaze fixed on you as you grabbed a ball from the bag and dribbled it over to the nearest wall, preparing for the training session ahead.

More of the team started to file through the pitch gates. You could hear their bags dropping to the ground as you passed against the wall, and as Mapi passed behind you she squeezed your shoulder. “I’m glad to see you, (Y/N),” she said, a smile on her face.

For once, as training started, you didn’t feel dreadful. You were excited and motivated by the good start to the morning, which showed in the newfound pep in your step and enthusiasm around the pitch.

After a long while, the sun began to set, which indicated the end of training. You sat down at the bench, unlacing your boots and trading them for sandals. Unexpectedly, Alexia sat down beside you, saying, “Good job today. You did well.”

“Graciés,” you responded, standing up while slinging your bag over your shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

She watched you leave through the gates, her eyes unwavering on your figure disappearing around the corner.

You lived next to a lovely elderly lady named Margalida. She was a sweet woman, always saying bon día and bona tarda to you and your siblings whenever she saw you. Sometimes, after you returned from training and picked up your siblings, she invited you four into her home to share pastries with her. You always accepted, of course, because it was much better than subjecting yourself to the olfactory assault that was your home, and she was also a widow that you figured needed some company from time to time.

When you weren't home, you couldn't monitor your mother's behaviour; praying that it would stay somewhat normal would have to suffice. You didn’t know whether Margalida knew about the true nature of your household or if she thought you were all naturally raucous.

You pulled into the driveway, parking the car as the doors opened and your siblings got out of the car. “(Y/N),” Magdalene said slowly, imploring you to look at her curiously. “Who are those people?” she pointed ahead, and that’s when you noticed Margalida at your doorstep, alongside two police officers and another woman. She looked like a regular office worker, but you weren’t an idiot; she was obviously a social worker, which could only mean one thing. A bad thing.

"You three stay in the car for a bit, okay? I'm gonna go talk to these people," you said to your siblings, motioning to the car as you turned around again and walked towards the people.

You felt nothing but dread in your gut as you approached them. One of the cops, who was talking to a distressed looking Margalida, looked at you and began to speak. "Miss (Y/L/N)?"

You nodded slowly, "Before we talk, can I just send my siblings inside?"

"That won't be possible," the officer said, making you raise an eyebrow, "...Because we're here regarding a call about a person inside, which we now know isn't you."

"I heard yelling from inside," Margalida added. "It was loud, and– and it sounded like there was crashing, from things being thrown around."

She took a deep breath, looking at you sympathetically. "I thought one of you was being hurt, so I called the police."

"I know your situation with the..." she paused, gesturing to the rubbish bin. You spun around, your eyes widening at the sight of it. Cans and bottles galore filled the bin to the brim, threatening to spill out. You could count at least ten, and that was only at the surface of the deep bin. You could recall the rubbish being collected just a few days ago, and now it was basically full.

She looked at you, her eyes pitiful. You hated it, so much; pity made you feel like a kid, and it angered you that the only time you got to relive any sort of childishness was when someone noticed you were suffering, not because you actually had the liberty to behave like one again. Where was the pity when you actually were a kid, having to wake up and stay afloat to support three other kids?

"Who else lives here, other than you and your — I'm assuming — siblings?" the other cop asked.

"My mother. My dad left a few years ago," you mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Is she home right now?" he asked, and you nodded. "Yeah. She's probably asleep, so if you did knock on the door, that's why nobody opened it."

"Asleep or blacked out?" his partner suddenly added. You looked at him, clenching your jaw as you shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I've been at work all day."

"What do you do for work?"

"I'm a footballer."

"For FC Barcelona?"

"Buy a ticket and maybe you'll find out."

You ended up sitting across from the two officers and the social worker in a dingy, dark room scarcely furnished with only a table, three chairs and a dirty window to accessorise it. This time, the woman did most of the talking while the cops just surveyed the conversation. Magdalene, Dani and Lorenzo were sitting in the waiting room of the station — you didn't want to drag them along, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"Can you tell us a little bit about your family history that might correspond with the things reported to us today?" she asked, leaning across the table.

"My dad left when I was, I think.. 13. Cheated on my mum and left us all for another woman. My mum, uh, got out of control. She didn't take it well," you replied, not looking up once as your gaze was fixed on the chestnut-stained, chipped table.

"I see. Well, from the contents of the rubbish bin, I presume her coping had something to do with alcohol," the woman said. As if her apathy hadn't been obvious from the start, it was dripping off her every word and showing her true intents; not to help you, but to get this over and done with and throw your siblings into foster care, then consider her job done and get paid for it.

You nodded at her claim nonetheless, picking at the paint of the table. "Yeah."

"Have you or your siblings ever been subject to abuse, from either of your parents?" she continued

"No no, absolutely not, they never hit–"

"I'm not just talking about physical abuse, (Y/N)," she interrupted. It was the first time of the entire questioning you had looked up as you met her gaze, your eyes saying more than your mouth ever could.

"It was just a few arguments,” you responded coldly.

“When we asked Margalida, your neighbour, about if there’s been any incidents like this, she said there has been. Yelling, screaming, and lots of it,” the woman told you. “How many arguments are you considering a few, (Y/N)?”

The table shook from the impact of your hand slamming it sharply as you shot to your feet. "If you consider a couple arguments to be verbal abuse, go ahead. My mum is hurt and angry, very angry about her husband leaving her, so yeah, she drinks and we argue about it!"

"Listen, please sit down. I understand that you and your siblings are troubled children but–"

"I hate being a– I hate that term, 'troubled kid', you know? We aren't troubled! If we were troubled, wouldn't we be dead? Wouldn't we be troubled by an inability to continue living in these conditions, these... ruins?"

Silence. You sat down once again, your head in your hands.

"Do you have another location you can stay at?" she asked you. You shook your head, the feeling of dread burying itself deeper in your gut.

"Unfortunately, we will have to place your siblings in foster care. The living conditions are unsafe and unstable for kids their age to be living in," the social worker finished.

You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to sob and sob and sob, harder than you ever have, but the tears wouldn't summon.

"There is another option," she spoke slowly, making you immediately look up from the darkness your palms shrouded you in.

"...we contact your father and see if he wants to look after them."

It sounded just as bad as placing them into foster care. Now, you wanted to scream in her face and call her utterly stupid for assuming that a man who abandoned his kids would want to take care of them years later to keep them out of the foster system. Why on God's green earth would he want to reap the consequences of his infidelity?

"Are you hard of hearing?" you scoffed. "Yeah, so, I said earlier that he left us years ago for another woman, you know, to make another family. He didn't want us."

"He's the only other option at the moment. Unless your mother can be moved to a rehabilitation center in sufficient enough time, and you become their legal guardians, they will end up with foster families. Possibly not even the same one."

The news weighed on you like bricks. It was all so much, you couldn't think straight and contemplate possible outcomes and solutions. You put your elbows on your table and held your head in your hands once again, taking a deep breath.

"Can I at least find someone myself who's willing to foster? Someone I know?" you asked, your tone being nothing short of desperate.

She took a moment to respond, and it was probably the most nerve-wracking few seconds of your life, until the ultimatum was spoken.

"I suppose, yes. That is basically the whole principle of fostering, so I see no issue. Until then, they will be placed in a temporary home before we start looking for a permanent family. A pair of officers have gone to detain your mother and we'll review the information from this questioning to determine whether she should be charged or put straight into a rehabilitation program."

"Thank you," you almost cried, your body relaxing from the little bit of relief and reassurance you had just received. There was still a possibility that you could get your siblings back.

The problem standing in your way now was, you didn't know anyone willing to foster. You had no idea who you'd turn to, and it actually made you realise that you were pretty alone in this whole ordeal, and life in general. You really did have nobody but yourself, and clearly there came a time where that wouldn't be enough.

"Magda, Dani, Enzo, come on. We're going now," you said as the door of the interrogation room swung open. You beckoned at the kids, who stood up and ran to you, following you out of the door.

You didn't want to go home yet, just in case the officers were still there and you'd arrive to the horrible scene of your drunkard mother getting dragged of her own house by the authorities, so you drove to the training pitch. You were in search of one person in particular, and hoping to avoid another one.

Parking the car in the same spot you had parked in the same morning, you quickly got out of the car and ushered the kids onto the pitch to play for a little bit while you went into the gym.

As soon as you walked through the automatic glass doors, the person you were searching for was stretching on a yoga mat, her resistance bands discarded above her head.

She sat up, looking at you with a mixture of surprise, confusion and concern, probably achieved from your sorrowful expression.

"Vicky, I need your help. Now."

#fc barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #fcb femení #woso #woso community #woso angst #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona x reader #futfem #ad astra per aspera

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anadiasmount · 6 months

Note

just had this thought after seeing his back 😵‍💫 but thinking about laying down getting ready to go to sleep and jude laying on top of you because the only way he can go to sleep is if you are rubbing his back 🤭🤭

“it’s too hot,” you said, slightly pushing him away from you as you wanted to sleep. jude looked at you with a brow raised, a hint of sadness in his chest as you pushed him away. you had spent the whole day together, shopping, working out, and getting dinner. taking a shower together and even sneaking down to get a sweet treat before bed.

“baby i wanna lay on you…” jude whined, coming to your side and resting his forehead on your shoulder. “not right now jude… we just cuddled for almost two hours!” you say groaning, feeling your skin sticky from the light sweat when you laid together. “i know that but you know me? i can’t sleep when you don’t do that thing.”

“what thing?”

“that thing with your hands on me?”

“it’s been a long day jude. i really want to sleep,” you say tiredly, yawning and laying in your side away from him. “but? y/n?” jude noticed your eyes shut immediately, small breaths leaving your lips as you rested. he didn’t know how it was possible for you to fall asleep that quickly, but he didn’t blame you.

jude twisted and turned for almost 2 hours straight. not being able to find a comfortable spot or even yet get any ounce of sleep. he had to be up and early in the morning but it seemed like he’d only get 4 hours of sleep max. if he fell asleep now.

he tried everything. drinking water, melatonin, scroll on his phone, yet nothing worked. he couldn’t sleep if it wasn’t next to you. you were next to him but fully fully fully next to you. he hated being this clingy but it’s the only way he could fall asleep, on your chest, hands on his back.

jude squinted his eyes, turning on your nightstand lamp, you were fully asleep, not a single noise or attraction being able to wake you. he loved to watch you sleep, knowing you were resting after your hectic job that seemed difficult and unfair. your lips slightly pursed, eyes completely closed, lashes tracing just above your cheekbones, hair tamed and everywhere. he loved it all.

jude drank a huge sip of water, the familiar coldness running down his throat at the drink. he propped himself on his side, taking his finger and slowly pushing away any hair away from your face. “y/n?” jude croaked, internally cringing because he was waking you up due to his neediness. but you kept sleeping.

“y/n?” he said a little louder, making you gasp and sit up. “oh my? oh my gosh? what’s wrong? why are you still up?” you said quickly all jammed, heart beating fast in your chest as your boyfriend looked overworked and extremely tired. you looked at your watch, almost 4am, sighing deeply before rubbing your eyes. “are you okay?” you ask.

jude shook his head, “i can’t sleep, i’ve tried everything but i can’t sleep.” you softly chuckled, pushing your blanket to the side and inviting him in. you could see the cheer and joy in his eyes, not wasting anytime and pushing you down to the bed with him. “you can be so needy you know?” you tease earning a ‘yeah yeah’ from him.

“do that thing.”

“what thing?” you ask curiously, looking down at jude who gave you a ‘you can’t be serious look’. “i don’t know what thing you’re talking about!” you defend, seeing him roll his eyes before speaking up again all groggy. “your hands on my back? where you run your fingers palms? it makes me fall asleep…” jude says shyly, tucking his head in the crook of your neck.

you obliged, jude almost moaning in delight at your soft silky warm hands tan down his shoulders, spine, and jude below his hips. “like that?” you ask, feeling your sleep slowly start to take over once again. “mhmm… just like that…” jude replied, kissing your neck and playing with the small “j” initial on your necklace.

he could feel every slide, sweep, rub, brush, tingle, all run down his back. almost shivering in pleasure. it’s crazy to think how much of an affect it has on him, to the point where he needs to feel your hands rake his back in order to fall asleep. jude fell asleep almost immediately, like a baby.

you continued to do small movements before your hands got tired and stopped. sleep getting the best of you and finally resting with your boyfriend on top of you. his hands around your waist, cheek smushed in your chest, his curls slightly tickling you, his small snores. you would never admit it, but you only slept best in this position.

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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incognit0slut · 3 months

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)

The three times you sense something strange when everyone pairs you with Spencer, and the one time you understand why.

Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencer’s educational background, it’s hard writing a genius Words: 5.6k (not proofread, I’ll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes) A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you don’t mind reading more😌

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

I. The Forced Partner

There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luck—or preferably yours.

It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you would’ve thought he’d keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room.

The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand.

“I’m Dr. Nina Patel, I’ll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.”

You nodded, shaking her hand firmly.

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table.

“Our Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.”

Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?"

"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."

You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body.

"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. It’s possible she was placed there post-mortem."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.”

You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."

Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. “It’s plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. We’re running some tests as we speak.”

Spencer chimed in quickly after that. “The Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,” he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, “They’d metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s impressive, Dr. Reid,” Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. “Did you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?”

“I actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.”

Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite a formidable educational background. No wonder you’re so thorough with your analyses.”

You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just so—it was a tone you recognized all too well.

She was flirting with him.

You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasn’t like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didn’t involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.

You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.

“Can we continue?”

Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. “Of course.”

She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didn’t comment.

It wasn’t until you had all the information you needed—and after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at him—that Spencer finally spoke up.

“She seems nice,” he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.

You shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Am I missing something?”

You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed.

“It’s just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,” you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.

And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustration—it clicked. “Wait, are you... jealous?”

“No, I’m not!” You replied quickly, then softer, “I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

You scoffed. “No, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.”

“Oh, so now we’re friends?”

“I meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.”

“Right,” Spencer replied sarcastically. “I didn’t realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you snapped. “Stop making it into something it’s not.”

“Sure.”

“Reid.”

“Y/L/N,” he shot back in the same flat tone.

Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, brushing past him.

You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mystery—nothing more.

You were not jealous.

II. The Unavoidable Flight

“I’m telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. “It was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?”

“Why are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,” Penelope responded. “He’s not my type, but he clearly has admirers.”

Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I don’t understand what they see in him.”

“It might be that genius brain of his—totally irresistible to some.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.

Penelope responded with a sly grin. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“Like someone who’s maybe a little jealous.”

You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.”

“I’m focused on maintaining a professional work environment,” you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. “Not about… whatever you’re implying.”

“Fine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?”

“Hypothetically, oh my god,” Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?”

You paused at the entrance, processing her question. “I’d do nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yes, I’d do nothing because I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what any jealous person would say.”

You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To find a spot where my supposed jealousy isn’t your inflight entertainment,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew you were jealous!”

“Supposed jealousy!”

Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.

It was perfect.

“Garcia! That’s my usual spot,” Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.

“But it’s so comfortable,” Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. “Come on, Reid, I don’t travel as much as you do. Let me have it.”

Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelope’s exaggerated comfort. “Where would I sit?”

“You can sit…”

You quickly closed your eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t–

“Over there! There’s an empty spot in front of Y/N.”

You were going to kill her.

You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, he’d pick another chair—perhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, or—

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“I know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.

“Actually, yes, I do mind.”

He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.

"Reid,” you warned him. “I’m serious.”

"I know you are.” His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know that you snore when you sleep?”

You gasped. “I do not!”

“You do. You sound like a little chainsaw.”

You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.

“A chainsaw? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Well, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."

“Don’t make me throw you off the plane.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Just so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should try—ouch!”

You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.

“Consider that your first and only warning,” you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

“See, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate your—”

“Good night, Reid.”

There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard it—a slight, barely audible chuckle.

You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Maybe you were already dreaming.

III. The Lock-in Incident

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. “Can you take these down to the filing room? Spencer’s already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.”

You eyed the thick folder in JJ’s hands. When there wasn’t an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.

But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you going there?” She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.

Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.

“Maybe you should go down there instead.”

“I can’t,” she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. “I’ve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.”

Your eyes glanced over to Derek’s desk across from you. “Morgan?”

He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. “Sorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.”

“Oh, come on.” You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. “I’ll do you a favor—anything you want.”

Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but I really can’t. This report’s due in an hour.”

Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emily’s desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.

You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your options—or lack thereof—settle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.

With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I have more work for you,” you announced in a sing-song voice.

Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. “Nope. They’re yours, not mine.”

You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. “Are you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what you’ve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work got… scrambled.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he quickly warned. “Hand them over. I’ll do it myself.”

You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.

“Really?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. “You know, we could actually get this done much faster if you’re not acting like a child.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re the mature one.”

“At least I’m trying to get the job done, not make it harder.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight about every little detail, it wouldn’t be so hard,” you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.

“I’m not uptight. I’m precise. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.

“Did that just…?” He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. “Great, it’s locked.”

“What?” You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Who the hell locked it?”

“I don’t think anyone did. These old doors… they stick. It’s probably just jammed,” Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.

Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.

But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.

“Look, let’s just keep working,” he suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.”

You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. “Fine. But if we’re still stuck here by the time we’re done, you’re explaining this to Hotch.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. “How do I do this?”

“Sort them by case type first, then by date within each type.”

“So, this one would go under…?”

“Unsolved homicides,” Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. “And make sure it’s in chronological order with the others.”

You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. “Wait,” you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. “I think this was my first case.”

You read through the document and nodded.

“Yes, look, it’s the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,” you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. “That was such a hard case. Remember how I couldn’t stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?”

When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.

“Of course, you don’t remember,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you even remember?”

A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“October 19, 2011.”

You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The date you started working here,” Spencer said, still focused on his task. “You wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“The case was in St. Louis,” Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. “Your first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.

“You cried when you came back from talking with the victim’s family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.”

You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.

“You also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.”

He remembered.

The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.

“You…” The frown on your face deepened. “You remembered.”

There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. “It’s hard not to."

You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed he’d rather keep his distance?

You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. “I forgot you have an eidetic memory.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.

IV. The Table For Two

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You expect me to believe it was an accident?” Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. “That the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?”

“The doors are old,” she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. “You know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.”

Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. “Right, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?”

JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then somebody did.”

“Y/N,” she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. “Nobody did.”

You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. “You guys are so annoying.”

JJ laughed. “How did you get out of there anyway?”

You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.

"We had to call Garcia to let us out,” you said, your tone dry. “She found the whole thing hilarious."

JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."

“She’s already teasing us about it.”

Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. “Did anything happen while you two were in there?”

You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. “Not really,” you admitted. “We just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.”

“But did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?”

“Jennifer,” you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what had—or hadn’t—happened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.

“I know, I know, it’s complicated,” she conceded. “Just thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.”

“Well, you thought wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."

You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.

“…right now… sure… no, it’s fine… I can be there in ten… of course, honey...”

You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.

"I need to head home,” she said, a bit too casually. “Will got called into work unexpectedly.”

Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccable—a little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that ‘the kid needs to go out more’.

But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.

"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. “Is everything okay?”

JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.

“Well, if you really have to go…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.”

“Details? What details?” You called after her but she was already walking away. “JJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?”

She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.

Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I can’t make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)

Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.

“Morgan’s late,” he announced as a greeting.

“He’s not coming,” you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “And neither is JJ or Penny.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” you replied with a sigh. “But it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

"What is?"

“That we’ve been set up,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “They’re not coming, and I’m willing to bet they never planned to.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You think they did this on purpose? Why would they—”

“Come on, Reid,” you interrupted. “They’ve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?”

Spencer’s gaze hardened slightly. “I don’t need to be manipulated into having a conversation,” he said sharply.

“And you think I do?” You retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s not a date,” Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go home.”

There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. “You want to go home?”

“You don’t?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I mean, we’re already here. Might as well stay and eat. It’s not like I have any better plans.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.

It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argument—it all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option you’d choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.

“Fine,” you finally said, brushing past him. “But you’re paying.”

Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile.

"A table for two?"

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that's—um, that will be fine."

The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.”

You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. “I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme.”

You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. “They’re always meddling. They don’t know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And this—this is just so...”

“Annoying?” He offered.

“Infuriating,” you emphasized, throwing your hands up. “It’s infuriating. And embarrassing. And—”

“And yet, here we are,” he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. “You know, maybe we should just give them what they want.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.”

“Reid,” you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. “They don’t want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.”

Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.

“You’re right,” he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.

You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?

The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldn’t imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.

#much ado about nothing #gifwriting #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction

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bbyobbyo · 4 months

Text

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

[read pt.2 here!]

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #woozi fluff #lee jihoon x reader

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reiderwriter · 11 months

Text

◇ Fixated ◇

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You're determined to keep both your job and your relationship intact when there are rules against dating your coworkers. Your boyfriend is more determined to keep his tongue on certain parts of you he enjoys very much.

Warnings: Day 24 of Kinktober - Oral Sex, Munch!Spencer, multiple orgasms, face sitting, begging, slight BDSM themes, Spencer is a dom if you squint, reader calls herself a whore idk man this one just got me feeling some feelings.

A/N: I'm loving being back on track with posting now, and I'm hoping to get through a lot more of these tomorrow to finish up all the posts this week! Sorry again for all the late kinktober posts, but i hope you're enjoying them now that they're here 🥰

Months into your wonderful job in the BAU, and your possibly more wonderful relationship with Spencer Reid, you were all too aware of the horror stories of office relationships.

You'd spent enough time around a tipsy and lamenting David Rossi to know that there were some serious rules against office fraternisation, and every time those conversations happened, you felt a chill run down your spine at the thought of losing your job, or losing Spencer or both.

Spencer didn't seem to have such qualms. And recently, he was getting loud about his indifference to such rules.

From early into your relationship (read: since you'd first fucked and then decided you had feelings too), Spencer had been open about just how much he enjoyed pleasuring you. Before he'd even put a finger on your clit he'd fallen to his knees, and you'd somehow gasped out a sarcastic "so it's safer to kiss down there, too?" at him as he glared at you from his place between your legs.

You'd joked about his oral fixation many a time, catching him licking his lips as he stared at you like he wanted to eat you, or the way he enjoyed watching you with his fingers in your own mouth too.

Fact of the matter was, you could count the number of times you'd had sex without him spreading your legs and eating you out like a man starved on one hand. But that had always been with you on your back, in your own home, on your own bed.

Now, he wanted more.

He wanted your entire cunt and ass sat on his face, and he wanted it in the shitty motel you were staying in while on a case.

"Y/N, please, want to taste you so bad." He whispered into your ear as you poured yourself some shitty precinct coffee, waiting for the end of the day as you wrapped up your recent case.

You had one night left in the motel until you could be back at home

Honestly, you were going to give in, but there was something about his desperation that had you on edge, so sure that you were about to get caught because he wanted to make you cum so badly, and suffocate himself in the process.

"Spencer, not the time or place. What if someone hears you?"

"I don't care who hears, I just want you."

The words sent shivers up your spine and you were about to reply when Hotch walked in and dismissed you to your motel rooms, telling you to rest up for the night before the flight home in the morning.

Before Spencer could open his mouth again and say something incriminating, you had to beat him to the punch.

"Spencer, you can finally read that book I was going to lend you. It's in my room, you know the one I did the oral exam on in college." It was giving in, but you were still going to enjoy it as much as you possibly could, starting with teasing him the entire way there.

"Sure. Can I come pick it up now? We're driving back together anyway, right?" You nodded, and the two of you shuffled back to the car, trying to contain yourselves and walk a normal pace to not betray your obvious excitement.

The minute you're inside the motel room, he practically jumps you, pressing his lips to yours between small gasps for breath.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you, can't wait to taste you again." He can barely keep his lips off you while he straps you down, and you barely protest him taking such control, his eagerness doing a lot to dispel any hesitancy you may have had about seating yourself on his face.

"Are you sure?" You stutter out trying to ignore the shivers he's sending down your spine as his hands ghost over your clit, making sure your body wants this and is prepped for his tongue.

"I've never been so desperate for something in my entire life." Sitting himself on the bed, he greedily pulled you over him, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you suddenly into his mouth.

Shocked by his fast motions, you gasped out, grasping the rickety bedpost at first, trying to keep your breathing steady and your weight mostly off of him as he began assaulting your dripping cunt.

You'd been aroused before, now you were damn near feverish with want.

"Fuck Spencer," you whispered, hearing the sound of voices in the next room. It sounded like Hotch calling Beth and Jack to tell them he'd be returning soon. Wrapping a hand around your mouth to suppress the moans your thighs squeezed together quickly before you tried to relax as he continued.

He didn't respond but simply yanked you down further into him, slapping your ass to let you know he could take more of you, that he needed more.

You tried to fight it, but with his tongue so expertly working its way along all your sensitive spots and his nose wedged up towards your clit, you couldn't help but settle deeper onto him.

Panting like a whore, you began rocking yourself against him even as he worked you through your first orgasm, not showing any signs of slowing anytime soon.

Usually he'd mollified himself with one oral orgasm and then pushed into your cunt to spend himself inside you, but this time, he obviously wasn't finished yet.

Your entire body twitched in over stimulation, trying to pull away from his lavishing tongue, but his grip was strong, and your legs like jelly. You couldn't move as he pushed you over the edge with his tongue and mouth a second, third, and fourth time, enjoying how you gushed into his mouth across the hours.

You really had to collapse that last time, though, finally prying your lips open and using your safe word to ensure that he knew to stop.

"Good girl, baby, well done. You made me very happy, baby, you know that, right?"

You smiled faintly as you noticed the tent in his boxers, rolling over onto your back and spreading your legs.

"If you're done with your head between my legs, I can think of something else I want there."

He smiled like a kid in a candy shop and rolled back over you, ready to deal with the ache in his cock, kissing you with your own juices staining his lips.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #kinktober 23

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gigi-loveless · 4 months

Note

could you maybe write something about abby comforting reader because she has past trauma from being in a toxic relationship?

kind of like reader does something wrong and freaks out but abby like helps her?

of course baby! hope you enjoy ‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

warnings - talks of past toxic relationship, dark inner thoughts

authors note - my messages are always open for all of you, no matter what.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

the rejuvenating breeze whisks through the french doors that enter out to abby’s backyard. it’s been a quiet day, abby needing to go to a work meeting early in the morning, so you decided to help out and do some chores to surprise her when she arrived back home.

humming along to the taylor swift song soaring over the radio, you pluck out the sheets you just washed, going to throw them straight into the dryer before noticing the pinkish hue plaguing the typically bright white fabric.

darkness washes over your once bright demeanor, knowing that abby spent a good amount of money on those nice sheets with the high thread count. you rummage through the washer, fishing out your bright pink shorts you thought you threw in with the last load.

stupid bitch. this is all your fault. you deserve this.

the sound of the garage door opening, and abby’s keys jingling in the door makes your stomach turn.

“hey babe, brought you a coffee!” abby hums, turning the corner into the laundry room where you’re hyperventilating over the open washer. the dizzying weight of what you just inflicted crushing you.

“hey hey hey,” she coos, setting your coffee down on the ironing board, engulfing you in her endlessly broad arms. “tell me what happened.” the blonde girl insists, wiping a stray tear from your eye.

“n-no…no!.” you sob, mascara stained tears dripping onto abby’s luckily dark button up.

“okay, okay….” she replies, smoothing down your hair and lifting you up to sit on the washer. “can you breathe with me? that’s it, good job.”

abby knew about your last relationship well. she figured it out pretty quickly after you cried the whole night over dropping a glass one of the first times you slept over. but abby’s abby, and she would go to the ends of the earth for you. so that next morning she spent on youtube watching other women who recovered from toxic relationships, trying her best to understand where your nightmarish thoughts come from, and how she can assist in handling them. she knows the ins and outs, and always insists on doting over you, even when you express that you feel like a burden.

“deep breath in for four…i know, hold it for four…out for four…hold it for four. can we repeat that?”

you nod, pressing your forehead to abby’s, connecting your breath.

“m-m’ sorry abby…..i-i just wanted to help,” you pant out, “and wash your sheets but i’m stupid and- and i stained them pink.”

you wince, preparing for the worst reaction possible.

but it’s abby.

running a calloused hand over the stained sheets, she starts giggling.

“well, pink is your favorite color isn’t it love? now i’ve got a piece of you in my room.” she affirms, swiping a stray tear from your eye. “and you’re not stupid at all. it was an honest mistake baby and besides, they’re just sheets.”

“y-you’re not mad?”

“wouldn’t dare to think it.” abby reassures.

all that tortured your spirit mere moments ago immediately melted away into abby’s honey sweet manner. “c’mon, i brought you some coffee from that new place that opened down the road, you wanna try it?” you nod, as abby helps you down, pulling you into her pine scented chest and pressing her lips tenderly to your hairline.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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ariseur · 5 months

Note

I’m the sephiroth hc anon, yea I was referring to the sfw and nsfw, sorry for not specifying :0

sephiroth (n)sfw hc’s 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

guys the motivation is coming back to me TRUST ME i’m slowly but surely working on it.. 🙏🙏

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

post nibelheim sephiroth being jealous, possessive, a little toxic and manipulative, mentions of sephiroths touch repulsion and touch starvation, nsfw will have a warning before it, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!! 💕

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ soooo!!!1!1!1

❥ let me start off with pre-nibelheim headcanons because i miss a more domestic and ‘normal’ sephiroth rather than.. crazy seph lol

❥ so now let’s get into the actual thing!!

❥ i do not think that sephiroth is familiar with love whether it’s pre or post nibelheim, and if you read up on my angsty / comfort sephiroth fics you’ll see how i love the portrayal of where he’s so beloved by his fanclub and the public due to being a, “war hero” despite not feeling any close love like how you’d love him. the closest he’d get to developing emotional attachments would be his relationship with genesis and angeal (and maybe zack).

❥ it’ll take a while for sephiroth to fully trust and put his faith in you, but he’s actually very mature about romance. he doesn’t get very jealous and he’s very confident in your relationship and bond, if you read up on my jealousy hc’s i explain more there!!

❥ and when he really trusts you.. he’ll even let you perform his hair care routine on him when he’s too tired to do it himself. as you’ve seen, his hair is absolutely gorgeous and while he spends like an hour in the shower on just his hair— he spends more time when he’s out the shower as well with all the after product 😭.

❥ he enjoys having you brush his hair in the mornings and if you have long hair, he’ll return the favor. nothing’s better than sephiroth’s gentle hand cradling your head as he softly brushed through your strands, trying his hardest not to snag too hard on any tangles. if you’re comfortable with it, he’ll even hop in the shower with you and wash your hair for you. he’s not ashamed of nudity, he finds it a very normal and humanizing experience— knowing you can still be so vulnerable and not have it be sexual. he loves when you wash his hair for him too tho, it’s just super long so it’ll take a while lol.

❥ i cant see him as a morning person. i saw a post that he said, “sephiroths not a morning person, he’s a ‘im up because I have to be but if anyone talks to me, there will be murder’ person.” and i totally agree with that. you’ll wake him up, mentioning how he reminded you to wake up him bright and early tomorrow yet there you’d be, shaking his shoulder gently and he mutters a plea of five minutes more before pulling you closer.

❥ i definitely think that you guys would have to keep your love life private considering his job unless you’re like.. around angeal or maybe genesis. possibly zack, but you guys would have to make him promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone because he’d literally be so shocked. otherwise he’d go run to kunsel and brag about his knowledge or be so jaw dropped that he runs to angeal and is even more shocked when he already knows??? like, was he the only one who didn’t know about this whole thing??

❥ it’ll take a while for sephiroth to get comfortable with physical touch. although he secretly yearns for it, he’s also touch repulsed sometimes. it’s not that he’s appalled by you or your touch, it’s just that he’s gone so long without it that it’s foreign to him. once he gets used to it, he’ll eventually search for it and come looking for you in need of just some head massages or even just to rest his chin on your shoulder and view whatever you’re doing. he kinda does what cats do when they nuzzle the sides of their heads into your chest and like rub their noses into you.

❥ i’d like to think sephiroth’s very meticulous, so if you ever invite him in doing an activity such as baking or art or something, he WILL have to do it right or else he’ll get frustrated.

❥ as aforementioned, seph isn’t well versed in healthy love or adoration so if you even do a small task for him such as doing a chore he planned to do or cooking him pasta when he comes home— it will make him feel all gooey inside even if he won’t show it. he’s always calm and collected but, “even the coolest of people try their damndest to be alright,” as i mentioned in one of my headcanons for cloud lolol. he’s appreciative of even the small gestures, always making sure to thank you for your efforts as he knows they’re filled with love.

❥ for post nibelheim, though.. he’s lowkey manipulative. if you knew him before he found out about the jenova project, i’m assuming you’re only with him in hopes that he has some humanity within him that you can restore— well, that or you just like crazy men lol. he will definitely use that against you as a way of making you stay, always promising he’ll change after completing his plans with you by his side.

❥ if you met him post nibelheim though, he’ll be utterly fascinated with you as you’re basically his new toy. and he’ll follow you, regardless of when you met him. he’ll never let you leave his side after he’s gone crazy as he’s constantly reassuring you that his mothers legacy will be fulfilled, and that he can only do that when you’re beside him with support. it almost feels like it’s a shell of sephiroth. he never does any of the things he used to do before he was aware of who he really was, he’ll barely even let you touch him. he’s constantly on guard whenever you two are out, always keeping a hand around your waist or shoulder so that you don’t run off.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

NSFW BELOW ꨄ︎

❥ id like to think of pre-nibelheim sephiroth as a soft dom. always being gentle, even when you’re sucking him off so nicely that he can’t help but grip your hair— he always makes sure not to pull it too hard and instead bites on his hand until there’s marks. he’ll always cater to you too, treating you like a pillow prince(ss) and is literally at your beck and call. he will not tolerate brattiness though and will definitely punish you if needed!! he’s just so kind, it’s only fair that he reciprocates the same words you give him :(((

❥ i don’t think sephiroths that experienced, but i don’t think he’s a virgin either. he doesn’t have the time to pursue intimate relationships, but he’s definitely experimented with one or two of his fangirls or something. he sort of regrets it now, considering it wasn’t all that intimate.

❥ like i said, it’ll take a while for sephiroth to even get used to physical contact let alone initiate it, but once you guys do finally have sex, he is literally the sweetest. he’s probably a little rusty lol but he’s a very quick learner!! guide him and teach him how to make you feel good, it makes his chest swell with pride once he gets you making those cute little sounds :(((

❥ let me tell you this man is huge though. he’s around nine to ten inches in length and he’s a big girthier than average. he has like two prominent veins, one on the underside of his shaft and one on the left side. when he cums, it’s a pretty pearly translucent color and right before he blows it beads at the tip as he tries to hold it in.

❥ sephiroth would like to think that there’s a possibility that you two could have kids, although his duties and reputation (and future events..) kind of prevent that. so i think there’s a breeding kink in there somewhere, but if you’re not okay with it then he’s totally fine!! it might sting a little if you don’t want kids, but in the end its your body, your choice— and he will respect that!!

❥ if you’re a virgin, he’d like to make your experience worth while and makes it very clear to you that he’s beyond honored to have been your first. he’ll even place you on the softest satin pillows while he gently thrusts into you, interlacing fingers and slowly pinning them against your head while he watches for your expressions. if you get shy or look away, he’ll always let go of one of your hands to redirect your chin back to him with a soft, “look at me, darling.”

❥ he relishes in the soft sounds of your giggles, watching as you look over the display he set up for you with roses and a meticulously made bed for you, a trick he had learned from genesis once when sephiroth had been too worried of not being able to satiate your need for intimacy. seph would lift you gently, giving you a small kiss and carefully maneuvering his way to the sheets before ceremoniously laying you down beneath him. he savors these lax moments during sex, not just the serious ones.

❥ post nibelheim is a little iffy, he’s definitely more possessive and aggressive when he’s having sex. he’s also very condescending with his words, i can sense a dumbification kink somewhere..

❥ as i’ve said before, post nibelheim seph won’t let you out of his sight most of the time. so he’s so possessive that if he sees you talking to someone else in public, once you find your way back to him, you’ll have wished you never greeted them. he’ll mercilessly press your face against the mattress or table or whatever you guys are on, and talks about how silly it was for you to talk to someone so casually when you clearly knew he was watching.

❥ i don’t think he’d let you top him that much, maybe once in a blue moon would he let you act like you have control over him— but the moment you get too cocky, he’ll remind you of who really has the most control once he grips your hip dips and flips you over, catlike, vindictive mako eyes glinting in the shadows of his body.

❥ again, i’m sorry but it’s the truth, also a little manipulative. post nibelheim sephiroth would accuse you of talking to other men or wanting them to satisfy you instead. he’d grit his teeth and roll his hips even harder— claiming he’d just have to show you how much he’s ruined you for other people. they are but boys but he, he is a man. and he’ll make sure you know that by the time the day ends and the sun seeps through curtains.

❥ pre sephiroth makes love, post sephiroth fucks. there’s a huge difference.

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