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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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Blood Ties Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Brief mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms

A/N: Not quite as long as previous chapters but I digress.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You heard voices surrounding you, some loud and urgent while others almost whispered. You knew them, that was for certain but the stygian fog shrouding your consciousness forbade you from seeking information you knew you had. You were too tired to care, never even opening your eyes before you once again surrendered to oblivion.

The second time you became aware, it was quick. Your eyes opened, a reflex to the fear that immediately took hold and had you trying to sit up. You didn’t get far. You were so weak; your arms refused to hold your weight. When you collapsed back onto the soft pillow, something in your right arm pinched. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it did draw your attention to the tubing running from the crook of your elbow up to a clear bag hanging from the bedpost.

“You’re awake.”

Your head rolled to the left, wide eyes meeting the soft gaze of an older gentleman. The first thing you noticed was that he was so clean, dressed in a nice button-up and black trousers. His white hair was neatly combed and clearly cared after. Your confusion must have been distinctly written across your face because he went on with providing a little more detail.

“My name is Hershel. You were brought here in quite the state, young lady. You were severely dehydrated. Quite honestly, I still fear that there may be some damage to your kidneys but we will just need to wait and see.”

You were still so tired. “Where the hell am I?” The man—- Hershel —-pinned you with a chastising stare but it disappeared just as quickly.

“You’re in my home.”

You didn’t acknowledge the reply, adjusting your gaze to the ceiling. You didn’t remember much aside from the pain.

And Daryl.

Those eyes—blue like a mountain lake—had been brimming with concern; and then determination. He had brought you there. You knew he had to be terrified for—

“The baby!” You suddenly gasped, palms pressed hard over your stomach. “Is my baby okay?!”

Hershel was already holding up his hands in a placating gesture, nodding slowly. “I’m aware. Your husband filled me in on everything. Quite crudely, I might add.”

You snorted weakly. “He’s not my husband.”

Hershel’s gaze wandered over to the far side of the room, a low, steady hum emitting from behind closed lips. “I see. Well, in any case, I happen to have a POCUS machine here for use on the springing heifers. Now, I’m no medical doctor, but I was able to locate the fetus and a strong heartbeat. Your baby seems to be healthy, though I can make no guarantees.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, fingertips absently brushing back and forth over your abdomen. “You said you’re not a medical doctor.”

“That’s correct.”

You pulled a face, willing your tired brain to fill in the blanks before Hershel could simply tell you. A lightbulb sparked to life. “You’re a vet.”

“I am.” He moved around the bed, carefully eyeing the tubing connected to your arm and then the bag. He seemed concerned but said nothing. “You need to rest. We’re going to try to get some bland food in you along with some water. Of course, I’ve never had to treat hyperemesis gravidarum but I have medical journals that will help.”

You raised your head slightly, an inquisitive eyebrow arched. “Hyper who the what?”

He chuckled, making his way toward the door. “That’s exactly what your—whatever your relationship is. Anyway, that’s exactly what he said.” He motioned toward the far corner of the room, where his gaze had ventured moments before. Curiosity got the better of you and you forced yourself up, one arm at a time to rest on your elbows. Your arms trembled with the effort. It didn't matter because you were too overwhelmed by the warm feeling stirring in your chest.

Daryl was slumped in a chair, chin on his chest, and fast asleep.

“He hasn’t left this room.” The veterinarian offered, turning toward the door. “The condition is severe nausea and vomiting. From my reading, it’s hard to control even with medication. You’ll likely need fluids periodically throughout your pregnancy. We’ll discuss this more once you’ve regained some strength. For now, rest, sips of water, and small, bland meals.”

Your stomach churned at just the thought. “I’ll just throw it all up.”

He nodded in agreement, but didn’t seem pessimistic. “I’ve discussed this with him,” Hershel tilted his head toward the sleeping hunter. “My daughter has a list and will be leaving tomorrow morning to gather what we need. The Korean boy will be accompanying her.” He nodded and stepped over the threshold before you called out.

“Is Carl okay?”

“He’s not completely out of the woods but I expect he’ll make a full recovery.”

That made you smile. At least one of the children would be okay. With the information you were just given, you still worried for your own baby. “Thank you, Hershel.”

With a tight smile, he nodded and closed the door.

You laid back and let everything digest. You were going to have 7 months or so of what sounded like pure hell. You’d need access to constant medication. And the man couldn’t even guarantee that the baby in your belly was indeed healthy. If ever you felt like a burden to the group, it was at that moment.

Would they even allow you to stay?

You placed both hands on your belly and rubbed in soft circles. “You’ve decided to start giving me hell early, huh, little thumper?”

“Lil’ thumper?”

You raised your head as far as you could, finding Daryl sitting on the edge of the chair with his elbows on his knees while he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He looked exhausted despite having just been asleep.

He hasn’t left this room.

“Hey.” Your smile was feeble at best. Your body felt heavy and it ached, but the cramping had mercifully stopped. The hunter gave a slight nod to greet you just before he stood to stretch, his joints protesting. “How long have I been here?”

“Just over a day.” Your eyes tracked him crossing the room. When he was close enough, he snatched up the unused pillow. Leaning forward with one knee on the mattress, he slid a hand under the back of your head to assist you with sitting up. The second pillow was placed behind you and left you at least elevated enough to hold a conversation in relative comfort.

Your eyes downcast, you muttered a quiet thank you. Daryl simply nodded, shifting from foot to foot in a nervous cadence, likely unsure of what to do.

He suddenly cleared his throat. “Think ya can drink some water?”

Until that moment, you hadn’t paid any mind to how dry your mouth was. “Yeah. Yeah, I can try.”

The archer nodded, bringing his thumb to his mouth to chew on the side all the way around the bed where a glass of water was sitting on a bedside table. He removed the digit from his mouth in favor of fetching the drink.

Daryl held it out to you, eyeing your trembling hand lifting to accept it. “Wait.” He settled his hip on the edge of the mattress and brought the glass to your lips. “You’re gonna spill it if ya try by yourself.” With an aggrieved whine, you parted your lips so he could tip the glass. When he tried to take it away after a mere two sips, you brought your hand up to hold it in place, yearning for just a little more. “Nuh uh. Can’t have too much. Tryin’ ta keep it all on the inside.”

Bottom lip jutted out, you decided you weren’t beyond begging—until you realized your hand was covering his on the glass. Your need was promptly forgotten. You watched Daryl’s gaze follow your appendage but he placed the glass back on the table without commenting.

Probably for the best.

He didn’t remain on the bed long after that. Rubbing his palms over his thighs, he stood and walked over to the window, pushing the curtain aside.

“Did you, uh, get to see it?” You asked, needlessly smoothing the blankets over your lap. Daryl looked at you questioningly. “The baby. Did you get to see?”

“Mhm.” He looked back out the window. “Didn’t really know what I’s s’posed ta be looking at. There was this lil’—�� he made a gesture with his hand that you weren’t sure how to interpret, “I dunno, like a flashing. He said it was the heartbeat.”

You hummed and brushed your fingers over your belly again. “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Mhm.” He nodded but kept his eyes on whatever he was watching outside, if there really was anything there at all. There was a sudden discontent in the air; the same thick tension you had felt in the truck that first day after he found you.

“He said you stayed the whole time.”

“Course I did.” His voice had lowered to a point where you were surprised you could hear him. “S’my kid in there. Needed to make sure ev’rything was okay. We don’t know these people.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. You had been telling yourself all along that the baby was all Daryl cared about. He’d almost made that perfectly clear, until the forest. Something in his eyes had shifted, and the way he spoke to you. He had been so coarse up until you admitted that you had been wrong. Then his touches were gentle, his voice even more so.

But now, you wondered if maybe you had imagined it. You chewed on your lip, glancing up at him every few seconds. It might finally be the right time. You had no doubt that he would stop you if it wasn’t.

“I’m really sorry, Daryl.” You willed him to look at you; it was imperative that he actually witnessed your sincerity. You had never meant to hurt him.

“‘Bout what?” He asked, just before he obliged your unspoken request. He started to turn back to the window but it appeared he thought better of it and held your gaze.

“I only knew for less than a day.” You waited to be dismissed; for him to snap at you and stomp out of the room.

He did neither.

You slowly repositioned yourself, suddenly uncomfortable under his stare. He was giving you his attention; finally hearing what you had to say, only for you to be terrified to continue.

“I, um—I found out from the blood test. I went to see Jenner after supper. I came to tell you that night but—I got scared and then you kissed me and I—” you lowered your head, the stark white sheet suddenly very interesting. “I’m just sorry. I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did. I should have told you.”

The silence carried on, suffocating and loud. You were certain he could hear the intensity of your thundering heart from across the room. A tear tickled your skin as it cascaded down your cheek, almost conjuring a laugh when you realized you were hydrated enough to actually cry.

“S’okay.” Your wet, shining eyes locked on him immediately. He was looking out the window again, but somehow looked calmer. That tenseness in his stance had softened. “I shouldn’a been such a asshole.”

You gave a wet laugh, the acceptance of your apology having more of an effect on you than you could have imagined. Naturally, Daryl was looking at you with an inquisitive brow arched. “I’m not laughing at you.” You assured him with a useless gesture, waving your hands. “Hormones, I guess?”

There was a very slow nod that meant I have no idea what that means but I’ll take your word for it. He watched you nervously until the waterworks dried up, seemingly afraid to approach while you were having your moment. You were still sniffling when he sat down on the edge of the mattress again and grabbed the water glass. “A lil’ more an’ I’ll go down to see what we can do ‘bout some food for ya.”

And right on cue, your stomach rumbled while your cheeks reddened.

Hershel had discovered some Odansetron in his supplies and was able to work out a safe dose for you with the help of the medical journals. It had made you a little drowsy but not so much so that you didn’t laugh and smile broadly when the waves of nausea all but ceased for the first time in days!

Daryl brought you one scrambled egg and half a piece of toast with no butter. He was forced to snatch away your fork when you almost crammed the entirety of the egg in your mouth in one bite.

“Slow down. Ain’t nobody gonna take it from ya. Jesus.” He handed the utensil back after you promised to take your time. It was difficult but you managed to keep that promise.

Now you were curled up under the sheets, eyes heavy and stomach full. You felt better than you had since first arriving into the small group. Sleepy, but better. The fluids would continue at least throughout the night, Hershel had said. He would give you another injection of the antiemetic when it was time, just to keep your symptoms under control until his daughter could hopefully find some in tablet form.

The room was near silent, which didn’t bother you now that Daryl had heard your apology and accepted it. He may only be worrying about his baby but he at least wasn’t angry with you anymore. You still had a lot to talk about but it was more related to planning for childbirth and parenting during an apocalypse. So, for now, you melted into the bed and closed your eyes.

Daryl yawned from the chair in the corner. Your eyes were quick to open. The hunter had protected you, had been protecting you from the moment he carried you out of the woods. How cruel was it for you, pregnant or not, to be in a nice, cozy bed while he was slumped in a very uncomfortable-looking chair.

“Hey, Daryl?” You didn’t move from the comfortable position you had found but you were able to call out loud enough for him to hear. He grunted in reply, which you wanted to chuckle at for whatever reason. “Can you come over here for a sec?”

There was a sigh before you heard the chair slightly shift when he rose from it. He actually approached the side your back was turned toward, probably assuming you wanted the water glass. You were able to roll onto your other side, careful of the IV. You were definitely improving. That movement alone would have been impossible when you had first awakened.

Daryl actually looked tired. Worry and near sleepless nights had that effect, you supposed. His hand wrapped around the glass but you extended yours before he could pick it up.

“Thank you, but that’s not what I needed.” You smiled gently.

“What is it then? Gettin’ up early to look for the girl. Need to get some sleep.”

You were careful about scooting backwards, maneuvering the tubing so it was against the headboard and not across the mattress. Situated comfortably, you lifted the blankets on the other side.

“Get in.”

He arched a brow, the question of are you serious needn’t have been spoken aloud.

“Ugh, always thinking with your dick.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled lightly. “No, I just want you to sleep here. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Now his brow drew inward, skeptically.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not sure I could even have sex right now—”

“Not that.” He snorted and shook his head. “Why d’ya want me to sleep there?”

Did he just assume you didn’t want him near you because of everything? He never questioned any time you had wanted him buried inside you but looked honestly confused that you’d want him near you otherwise. “Because you need to rest too. It’s been crazy out there. But we’re safe right now—”

“Ain’t never safe.”

“Thanks, captain optimistic.” You deadpanned, releasing the sheets be keeping your hand splayed out on the mattress. “Seriously, whether or not it’s safe out there doesn’t matter. You make me feel safe. And I’d really like it if you’d sleep here.” When he didn’t answer immediately, you added a quiet please that seemed to break his resolve.

"You’re ridiculous.” You were sure that was just the Daryl method of diffusing a situation that had become too uncomfortable for him to handle. Regardless, he sat down and began taking off his boots. You gave up the second pillow and snuggled back into your own, watching the soft light from the bedside lamp cause shadows to dance across him while he got comfortable. Of course, he opted to lie on his back on top of the blanket.

“Better than the chair?” You were smiling smugly when he rolled his head toward you. He scoffed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. In seconds, his eyelids were drooping, along with your own. You took a deep, content breath and allowed yourself to relax and begin to give in to the call of sleep.

Just as the last dregs of consciousness began to release their hold, you could have sworn you heard him say “much better than the chair.”

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dfortrafalgar · 6 months ago

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Bring Your Daughter(s) To Work Day

Law x Fem Reader (kinda)

When the babysitter cancels last minute, Law is forced to bring his daughters to work with him, and deal with the emotions they unknowingly make him feel.

A/N: SURPRISE- BONUS CHAPTER FOR IMLY!!! this came to me suddenly and i hammered it out. this can be read as a standalone, but i wrote it with the intention of it being directly connected to the universe of my long form fic "I'm Losing You"

Warnings: nothing but pure fluff here, folks. established relationship, third person POV, reader is only present in the beginning and end of the story, some suggestive language sprinkled throughout but nothing explicit

[IMLY Masterlist]

Law watched with dejected eyes as his wife dropped her head into her hands, a harsh groan leaving her lips. Under her breath, quiet enough so her kids couldn’t hear her profanity, she uttered, “Fuck.”

“Let me guess,” Law mumbled. “She canceled?”

“This is the last time we use this babysitter,” she growled, turning off her phone and flipping it upside down so the screen faced the table, ignoring whatever incoming messages might appear. “It’s going to be too late to find any sitters now, and their school doesn’t start for another week. It’s not like we can just drop them off somewhere or leave them here alone.” She picked up her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. “Law… I can’t miss this interview.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, reaching his hand across the kitchen table to stroke her clenched fist. “You’re not going to.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

Law bit the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for any feasible solution. One of the biggest interviews of his wife’s career was on the following day, ever since she cordially parted with her last job after having their twins. She spent the first year of their life physically recovering from the birth, as well as having her tubes tied to prevent any more reproductive issues, the couple happily deciding that they were fine with two children. The following toddler years were spent at home with Cora and Rose, his wife being assisted by Uncle Shachi, Uncle Penguin, and Auntie Ikkaku whenever they were free. On days where Law was out of work, he made sure his wife was completely hands-off, taking his daughters out so his wife could spend some much needed time alone or out with her own friends. The two had a comfortable balance, allowing for ample time spent with each other, their daughters, as well as valuing their personal lives. Law’s cardiothoracic surgeon salary was more than enough to afford comfortable living in their small house filled with two six-year-old girls and a dog, but he could tell his wife was desperate to get back to a working schedule again. There was never an issue with having more income, after all, and the doctor knew his wife was never one for the stay-at-home lifestyle for the long-term.

“I’ll bring them with me,” he stated suddenly. His face remained completely neutral.

“What?” she yelped, standing from her chair. “Law, you can’t. You’re a doctor.”

“I don’t have any operations tomorrow, and I’m only working 12 hours. I’ll bring them with me when I leave at 9, and you can pick them up after your interview,” he explained. “I have plenty of staff, and there’s a children’s room in the cardiac ward. They’ll have things to do and people to talk to.”

His wife frantically searched her husband’s face for any sign of indifference or reluctance to his own claim. Finding none, she slowly sank back into her chair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“I am.”

“And you promise to not traumatize them?”

Law pursed his lips. The week prior, he found his girls in the backyard poking a dead, gutted rabbit with a stick. He didn’t think he had much to worry about. “I promise.”

Finally letting her shoulders relax, his wife slumped over and rested her forearms on the kitchen table, plopping her head against them and shielding her face from the world. A small chuckle exited Law’s lips as he stood and rounded the furniture, coming to rest behind his wife and placing his deft hands on her shoulders, massaging the knots out of her tired muscles. She visibly relaxed even more from his touch, almost as if she was melting from the motions of his hands.

“You always know exactly what to do to make me feel better,” she sighed, tossing a glance at her smirking husband from over her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to work out. You’ll do amazing at your interview, the girls will behave themselves at work, and we’ll all live happily ever after,” he hummed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on the back of her head.

“Can you bring home ice cream tomorrow?” she asked, her voice finally regaining its light and airy demeanor as her sullen mood finally lifted.

“Of course.”

—

“Girls.”

Law’s stern golden eyes looked in the rear-view mirror, watching as Cora and Rose immediately snapped their attention to their father from the backseat. Rose clenched a book in her small hands, well above her age’s reading level, while Cora fiddled around with the broken arm of a Stealth Black action figure.

“Remember to be on your absolute best behavior today, alright?” he stated firmly. “I’ll be around to check on you both for most of the day, but when I’m not there, you need to be good for the nurses.”

“We know, daddy,” Cora chirped. “Mama told us you’d be coming home with ice cream if we were good.”

“I’ll be coming home with ice cream regardless,” he replied, a small smile growing on his lips. “But if you’re not good, you won’t be getting any. It’ll just be for Mommy and I.”

He laughed as his daughters screeched from the backseat, flabbergasted at the mere insinuation that they might not get a share of any delectable treats. Fondness welled in his heart as he listened to the twins bicker over their shared behavior. Through their short six years on Earth, they had already grown into strong, individualistic young ladies who were practically inseparable. Law cried on every single birthday. They had turned him into quite a softie.

His foot gently depressed the break of his car as he turned into the sprawling hospital’s parking garage, driving up the ramps to the third floor and slipping into a parking space reserved for staff. He diligently grabbed the large childcare bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder before proceeding to free Rose from her restrictive (but very safe) car seat, followed by Cora, who clambered to get out of the car and holler into the echoing abyss of the parking garage, giggling at the way her voice bounced off the concrete pillars and walls surrounding her. Rose held her hands over her ears, cringing at the sound.

“Get it out of your system now, baby, you can’t be yelling like that in the hospital,” Law uttered, grabbing each girl by the hand and slowly walking with them toward the hospital’s entrance connected to the parking garage by a small hallway and two elevator shafts.

Rose firmly gripped her father’s hand in her right, clutching her book in her left. Cora skipped along, tripping over her feet, and sang into the air. “Gather up all of the crew! It’s time to ship out Binks’ brew! Sea wind blows, to where? Who knows! The waves will be our guide!”

Rose mumbled, her small voice whiny and irritated. “Cora, you’ve been singing that all day.”

“I love that song!” the younger girl retorted, almost stepping on Law’s foot. “Uncle Luffy taught it to me.”

Law bit back a smirk, yet rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. Leave it to that boisterous man to introduce his daughters to the life of high-stakes maritime activity. He’d be lying if he said playing pirates with his girls wasn’t some of the most fun he’d had recently, however. It only took a bit of a negative turn when Cora, pretending to be the infamous Blackbeard, landed a punch against Law’s groin so harsh it made him double over. It wasn’t like she knew any better, but amidst his wife’s worried yet hysterical laughter, he wondered if that blow was enough to make him infertile.

He shrugged the thought into the back of his head, releasing Rose’s gentle hand to press the elevator button, leading his girls into the small space and watching in silence as the doors closed in front of them, carrying them down two levels to the cardiac ward.

“Daddy?” Rose asked, looking up at him. “What do you do all day?”

Law pondered briefly. “On days where I don’t have operations, I usually do rounds for patients.”

“What are rounds?” asked the curly-haired girl.

“I go from room-to-room and assess each person’s health and how they’re doing,” he explained.

“Can we join you?” Cora suddenly asked, staring up at her father with her own large, golden eyes.

“I’m afraid not, sweetpea.”

The younger twin pouted before suddenly growing frazzled out of nowhere. “I LEFT MY ACTION FIGURE IN THE CAR!!!”

Rose quickly covered her ears again at her sister’s shrill scream.

“We’ll get it later, baby,” Law tried to console. He nervously glanced at the LCD screen above the button panel, about to reach the first floor. “I can get it for you on my lunch break. Can you wait until then?”

Cora’s face was growing flushed as she puffed out her cheeks, her eyes welling with heavy crocodile tears. “But I want him now! He’s going to die in the car!”

Law rubbed a hand over her hair. “He won’t die.”

“He will!”

“I’ll save him before he does,” he said back. “Shhh, keep your voice down, baby.”

Rose removed her hands from her ears with an audible, relieved sigh. Cora was appeased… for now. She’d have to deal with profound, inescapable boredom until noon, or at least until her mom came to pick the two up and save them from the children’s room at the hospital.

All things considered, the girls were fantastically behaved. They watched on quietly as Law scanned his badge to enter the high-security corridors leading to the cardiothoracic ward, nodding a wordless hello to the various nurses and doctors who passed by, each offering fond, excited smiles to the young girls. The long, winding hallways of the hospital were ginormous in comparison to the twins, who were used to the much smaller hallways of their kindergarten building, but they kept their hands in their father’s as he led them to his ward.

“Can you remember what I said in the car?” the surgeon asked, scanning his badge over one last electronic box on the wall, the click of the door’s lock signaling its opening.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rose obediently replied, more excited to be able to get back to her reading in peace.

“We promise,” Cora added. She opened her small mouth one more time, as if to add a second thought, but quickly shut her jaw and stared straight ahead. Law cocked an eyebrow at the display, but didn’t question it further. If the little girl had an issue, she would immediately let him know.

There was a children’s room, which was really just a small space situated behind one of the nurses stations, used primarily for families with very small children. When a person would be admitted to the cardiac ward, any potential juvenile visitors were welcome to use the children’s area to remove them from the otherwise clinical, scary environment of the hospital. The entire space was stocked with coloring books, light reading for ages 4-10, building blocks, and other miscellaneous playthings, all thoroughly sanitized before and after each visit.

When Law rounded the corner into the doorway of the children’s area, Rebecca was crouched down on the floor, diligently wiping down a set of large plastic building blocks with a sanitizing wipe. Her large, brown eyes glimmered as she saw Cora and Rose, having not seen them in quite some time. It wasn’t like Law brought them to work often.

“There are the guests of honor!” sang the pink-haired woman, discarding the wipe into a nearby trash receptacle and hurrying toward her superior and his two excited daughters. The girls pulled away from their dad and hugged Rebecca’s legs, instantly remembering the warm smile and bright laughter of the nurse who happily knelt to their level and pulled them to her chest. “It’s so wonderful to see you two again!”

“Let me know if they give you any trouble, Rebecca,” Law sighed, smiling at the sight albeit scrunching his eyebrows at the potential his children had for causing petty issues. They were their mother’s daughters, after all. Their well-behaved exterior made room for some very sinister six-year-old schemes.

“How could these sweet angels cause any trouble at all?” Rebecca giggled, ruffling Rose’s head of thick, curly black hair. “I will, though, sir. No problem at all.”

“I’ll be back in about two hours for my short break. Cora, Rose…” the surgeon called their names, alerting their attention once more.

The silence in the room was palpable as Law brought two of his fingers to his eyes, gesturing his hand toward their faces as if giving a silent threat that he had his eye on them, even if not in the same room. He had a playful smirk on his face as he did so, leading Cora to stick her tongue out at her dad. Rose gave her sister a light shove, harshly whispering about the ice cream reward still looming over their heads.

—

Two hours and far too many patient rounds finally came and went before Law was able to take a short break, proceeding to the children’s room with his ample amount of paperwork in an accordion binder held in his arms. He’d be able to get some time to work on it while sitting on the floor at the squatted table while he gave his nurse a much needed reprieve from his daughters. While marching through the long hallways of the cardiac ward, the surgeon pulled out his phone and smiled at the text that had come in from his wife, about 30 minutes prior.

Mama What do you think of this fit??? I mean, im going with it, but do i look hot and professional?

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama Right answers only. Also, are the girls behaving alright???

His wife did indeed look stunning. Her curves fit elegantly into a sharp, black pencil skirt that flared slightly below her knees. Sheer tights complimented her supple skin, and sophisticated yet casual wedge heels boosted her height by a good inch or so. She was posing in the mirror of their bedroom, one hip jutted out propping up her free hand that she graced over her waist. A trendy blouse was tucked into the skirt, the top few buttons still undone. Grinning down at his phone and holding his folder tighter against his abdomen, he fumbled to type out a response while walking.

You know you look stunning, baby. Absolutely gorgeous. You’re going to do up those top buttons, though, right?

He watched the incoming message bubble appear and disappear a few times before her response came in.

Mama Duh, i was just hoping that showing off some cleavage would give me extra points with you <3

Law fought to bite down the chuckle that rose in his throat, not wanting to attract attention. As long as I get to undo those buttons later. He was feeling bold today.

Mama Ice cream first, sex later. Love you baby <333

Law quickly shoved his phone into his pocket after thumbing out a quick good luck message for her upcoming interview, which she was surely traveling to at that very moment. He pushed open the door to the children’s room, quickly pushing back any inappropriate thoughts of his beautiful wife and smiling at the sight of his daughters.

Cora was in the middle of utilizing every single building block the room had to build a convoluted structure that took a plethora of odd shapes. She was being assisted by another young girl who’s curious violet eyes watched inquisitively at each new block added to the structure. Rose was in the adult-sized chair across the room, her nose buried in a new book. Judging by her original book on the floor by the legs of the chair, she had finished that one after only two days. A new literary record. Rebecca was absent from the room, most likely having left to continue her own duties, but judging by the faint smell of light cleaning alcohol in the room, she hadn’t been gone long.

With a smile, Law sat on the floor across from his daughter’s, and the new girl’s, strange structure. “What are you building?”

“A submarine. Can’t you tell?” Cora replied, placing a pink-colored block on top of an ominously leaning stack.

The new girl, who’s hair was a deep shade of purple, stared at Law with huge, curious eyes before a cheeky grin broke out on her face. “Are you the doctor taking care of my papa?” she asked.

Law grinned. “Could be. Who’s your papa?”

“Tenguyama Hitetsu,” she confirmed cheerily. “Well, he’s not actually my papa, but he also is.”

A lightbulb clicked on in his head. He had just been in Mr. Tanguyama’s room, and had no idea that the elderly man had any child under his care. It was then he remembered that the man had described a young girl as his ‘student’ rather than ‘daughter,’ but he still spoke about her with such fond language. Kurozumi Tama.

“Tama’s been helping me build,” blurted Cora, bringing herself to her feet to place another block on the tower attached to what was supposed to be a submarine.

“You two make a good team,” Law replied fondly as he turned his attention to his oldest daughter. “Rose, what are you reading?”

Her new book was substantially thicker than the one she brought with her. There were no pictures on the cover. She tilted the object down only slightly to speak with her father. “Rebecca brought it for me when I asked. It’s a book about common heart conditions in adults.”

Somehow, Law was not surprised. He didn’t even question it, watching as the black-haired girl turned her attention back to her book, disregarding any potential response from her father. Without another word, and without wanting to distract the kids from their intense focus, he scooted across the floor to the squatted table and opened his accordion folder, flipping through his paperwork to pass his two hour break, counting his blessings that he had such easy, albeit… strange, children.

He couldn’t stay focused long enough to begin filling out his patient charts, however. Especially not when he was swarmed with thoughts about his family. As he picked his gaze up and glanced across the room at his daughters immersed in their own little worlds, happy as clams in their special ways, he couldn’t fight the swelling in his heart. His wife, after worlds of difficulty, had given him two of the greatest gifts of his life. Those gifts were now six years old, about to start first grade, reading above their level, building and drawing, holding conversations, and were filled with boundless love. They hadn’t yet reached the age where they were embarrassed to hold hands with their dad in public, and they were still too young to fully understand the world around them, but it was clear as day to the surgeon that his little girls were bound to learn the tough realities of their lives sooner rather than later. It made his chest pang thinking of how quickly they had grown up. It felt like just yesterday that Law was by his wife’s side in the delivery room, finally holding his babies after they were allowed to leave the NICU, happy, healthy, and already beginning to babble and whine for their next feeding. He remembered looking at his wife, the woman of his dreams, who had gone through far more than any human should in bringing these girls into the world, kissing her lips and thanking her, thanking whatever deity was in the heavens that she was still alive and well.

“Daddy?”

Rose’s voice broke Law from his trance, his sharp golden eyes darting up to meet hers. The book was folded in her lap, her hands tracing the embossed letters on the hard cover.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice small and concerned.

A lump developed at the base of Law’s throat. His girls looked so much like his wife. He forced the rock down his esophagus and smiled at his little girl.

“I’m just fine, sweetpea.”

—

Law had needed to stay for an extra hour and a half after his shift was supposed to end, much to his distaste. After his close-call to an emotional outburst that afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to run home, embrace his wife in a hug, and cuddle with her on the couch with the ice cream that he had promised her. When he was finally able to slip into his car, the backseats empty (save for the Stealth Black action figure that was completely forgotten about by noon) with Cora and Rose having been picked up by their mom, he pulled out his phone to send his wife a text only to find that she had sent him one first.

Mama Look how tuckered out they are!!!

Mama [1 Image Attachment]

Mama What did you do to them??? LOL

The image was immediately saved to Law’s camera app. Cora and Rose were curled up on the plush carpet in their living room on both sides of Bepo who was sprawled out on his back. Their little arms wrapped around the dog’s torso, their faces squished into his warm, white fur as they snoozed in one conjoined unit. He quickly tapped out a text that he was coming home, placing his phone in his bag and proceeding out of the parking garage as quickly as he could. With the only places still open at that hour being the gas station, he stopped at the nicest one in town and picked up three pints of ice cream, as well as a few extra treats to surprise the girls with when their new friend, Tama, came over for a playdate in a few days.

When Law finally entered his house, the only light still on was the lamp beside the couch. All the curtains were drawn, shrouding the living room in a pleasant, dim warmth. His wife was on the couch, laying back with her phone in her hand. She quickly stood up when Law entered, excitedly yet quietly closing the gap between them and capturing her husband’s lips in a tender kiss. He cheekily took the freezing bag containing the ice cream and pressed it against the thin cotton t-shirt she wore to bed, cooling her skin and making her suppress a surprised yelp. She giggled as she playfully batted Law’s chest.

“You tease!” she whispered. “I don’t wanna wake the girls.”

“With the way they were sleeping in that picture, I doubt we’ll wake them up,” he replied, his voice low as his lips stole another kiss, lingering a few moments longer. His heart fluttered at the feeling of his wife smiling into his gesture, her hands trailing over his chest, shoulders, and up into his fluffy black hair.

When she pulled away, he finally noticed the blouse she still wore, all the buttons done up. “Good, because you still have to take this off of me. I’m uncomfortable.” She snatched the bag out of his hands, procuring her own pint of ice cream. “After this, obviously.”

“Of course, of course.” Law followed her lead, grabbing his own treat after placing his other goods into the freezer and following his wife to the couch with two spoons in hand. Bepo was on his dog bed snoring up a storm, which he had been doing much more often in his older age.

“How did your interview go?” he finally asked, smiling as his wife snuggled into his size, using a blanket to grip her ice cream without freezing her hand.

“I think it went well, I was so nervous, though. I had to apply an extra layer of deodorant in the car because I was sweating so much,” she explained. “But the manager seemed pleased with my resume. And she knew Ms. Boa, so hopefully that means my recommendations will be worth it.”

Law held her close while opening his own ice cream. “I’m sure it will be. You’re a shoe in for that position.”

“You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, taking a spoonful of the frozen treat.

“You like when I say things,” Law replied with a smirk on his lips.

She sunk further into his chest, letting his warmth embrace her. Her mind swirled with images of the man, when they started dating, when he proposed, on their wedding night, in the hospital multiple times, holding his daughters… the woman blinked away fond tears and swallowed her emotions with another hefty spoonful of ice cream.

“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?” asked the man behind her, his voice gruff and tired from a long day in the hospital.

“Nothing…” she mumbled back, hiding her face in his neck. “Just how lucky I am to have you.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #im losing you

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tarjapearce · 1 year ago

Note

I don't know if you ever answered this, but did Mama have weird cravings with the babies? I know my mama was always wanting watermelon slushies and shaved ice, or the occasional slice of lasagna and milk (both of which she hated before getting pregnant,how her dad realized she was pregnant) I like to imagine Miguel's confusion if she suddenly starts wanting something random before they know for sure each time she got pregnant

Hehehe 👀

The perfect time to introduce our 🌹

Pregnancies never ceased to amaze Miguel. Specially when it came to foods. You'd wake him up at deep in night hours to get you the most random things to eat.

When you were pregnant with Gabriella, you'd wake him up, crying cause you didn't have pickles, and you wanted pickles. He'd go to the closest convenient store, sleep still clinging to him as he brought you two jars of them.

To his horror, you'd dip the pickles in the sweet gooeyness of the Nutella jar and eat them with such contempt it made you cry out of happiness.

With Benjamin, it wasn't pickles with Nutella, but jalapeños and peanut butter. He'd had to hide the can of jalapeños from the fridge, partially cause he wasn't sure if it was good to eat that much of spiciness. But would end up giving them back cause you cried over them while calling him mean for hiding your food.

His suspicions of you being pregnant again just rose when he'd often find you at two am, scourging the fridge, eating mozzarella cheese sticks or any charcuterie cheese you had, smeared in dulce de leche.

It was endearing for him watching you eating the pieces with such delight that he'd secretly buy you good quality things when you were running out of them.

You'd cuddle him with a bottle of the sweet spread in one hand and the cheese stick in the other. Gabriella couldn't help but scrunch her nose in disgust at the combination.

---

The pregnancy test was irrelevant at this point. He just made an appointment with the doctor to check everything was okay.

"I want another girl."

His hand rubbed your lower belly, and kissed your cheek.

"What about twins?"

"Ay Jesus..."

He chuckled.

"Relax, whatever comes, I'll be happy. "

"Told you I was giving you a bunch of kids."

He nodded with a bashful smile.

"You did."

"This is our last baby though."

"Who knows" He smirked and you slapped his shoulder softly.

"Stop! You're not the one getting your belly expanding like a balloon!"

"I'm joking, cariño. Might get a vasectomy, though"

"I'll get my tubes tied up."

"You sure?"

You nodded at his question.

"Yeah. Three kids is more than enough"

"What if it's a girl?"

You snuggled against his chest as he caressed your hair.

" Her name will be Rosie. I love it, Gabi picked it actually."

"Rosita." He mumbled and chuckled, "I'm calling her Rosita Fresita" (Strawberry Shortcake)

"But what if it's a boy?"

"Leonardo?"

"Absolutely no."

"Emanuel?"

He snorted as you pouted "Not funny."

"Sorry, sorry. We'll come up with something"

You just giggled.

"If it's a girl Gabi will be over the moon."

---

Jessica

JESSICAAA

Jessi Jessi guess what?

Sorry, was busy. How's it going, hun?

🤰

...

For real? Like For real real?

Yup! Just came from the medical check

Girl... You and Miguel need a new hobby

Or a new tv

😂😂 Betch.

😘😘

It's gonna be a girl!!

SHUT UP

🥹❤️

😊

I'm so excited for you, Mama!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#t writes✨#miguel o'hara fluff

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ramblingautisticman · 1 month ago

Text

As it's kinktober, naturally, I have seen some things. It's inevitable. While I try to avoid reading the actual smut (I am way to asexual for that shit but to everyone who writes it, well done, your stronger than me), I see the titles and promts, and one made my lil autistic brain start churning- weirdly about Wade and the PTSD he would have from the torture. Also some fluff with Logan- you deserve it.

I don't think Wade would like being choked or choking? At all. It reminds him way too much of the oxygen deprivation tank he had to stay in. And it isn't even always in a sexual way- any time something is too tight over his mouth or too close to his neck- he freaks out and starts panicking because the idea of not being able to breath again is terrifying to him. He doesn't go swimming because he can't stand the idea of holding his breath. So when Dopinder suggest all of them go swimming for Laura's birthday (she has never been to a beach or swam before) he shuts the idea down so fast that everyone takes a second to just stare at him before continuing with other suggestions. He also refuses to ever choke anyone else. Whether it's in bed or killing- he knows that feeling so intimately that he doesn't want anyone else to feel that kind of pain or panic- even if they deserve it.

Wade is also extremely afraid of small spaces. He hates them. They remind him too much of the chamber. Logan tries to get him to go inbetween the couch and the wall to try to get the TV remote one time, only for Wade to shut down at the very idea, leaving a very confused Logan to do it himself before Wade snaps back to normal.

He hates belts and refuses to touch them because they feel like the restraints they used. Anything leather really- it feels too similar. It makes his wrists and ankles ache, and suddenly it feels like something is around his neck. So he avoids it at all costs. He doesn't touch Logan's leather jacket- avoids him whenever he is wearing it and never dares move it from where it's been thrown down- and when Logan mentions it he brushes it off. Tells him "Its so old that I'm afraid it will turn to dust if I touch it."

And Logan notices, obviously. He notices how Wade avoids touching leather, he notices how Wade freezes up at the idea of being in a tight space, he notices how Wade hates the idea of swimming. Expect, he doesn't know why. Wade has never shown any fear for water, so why does he not want to swim? He is fine sitting against Logan while he is wearing his leather jacket, but only if Wade is wearing a thick hoodie, so he doesn't like the texture maybe? The only thing he understands is the tight spaces. Some people are clostraphobic, he gets that. The other two though? They confuse him for ages. For awhile, anyway.

One day Wade breaks down- too many reminders and one bad nightmare later- Wade tells him about the cancer and the torture and everything in-between, and suddenly Logan gets it. He hates swimming because you need to hold your breath. It's why Wade likes baths over showers. More control. He hates leather because it reminds him of being tied down. That's why all his belts are fabric, even if they look like leather. That's why he avoids touching Logans jacket with his skin. He hates small spaces because he was practically killed again and again in a fucking tube. Who wouldn't be scared of small spaces after that?

So Logan takes the time to make sure he remembers these things. Trys to accommodate as best as he can. Never suggests something that might mean Wade needs to hold his breath or have something close to his neck. Gets a different jacket to wear, throwing the other one in the very back of the closet. Makes sure that if there is ever a small space they need to get too, Logan goes and does it without asking.

Wade only notices when he drops the TV remote down the back of the couch AGAIN, and Logan quickly grabs it and places it back in his hand, a worried look on his face.

#deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadclaws #logan #poolverine #wade wilson #wade winston wilson #wade x logan #cant stop thinking about it #the angst #i love them

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the-hopeless-haze · 2 years ago

Text

Let’s Spend the Night Together

Chapter 3 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Greg House x Reader

Word count: 6.5k ??? what did I do

NSFW - smut

“Where does she live?” Greg asks James.

“If I tell you, am I assisting you in a crime?” James asks in response, barely looking up from his desk.

“I’m sure she told you about our date later.”

James huffs in frustration, finally looking up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Did you like her? Is that it?” Greg questions, trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s snarky behavior. Not that this wasn’t the usual from him. It was one of the things Greg loved about him, that he was always a little fed up with him, always preemptively aggravated, always in a state of annoyance. It was harder to piss someone off that was always a little pissed with him at baseline.

“Is that what you think? Because if that’s the reason you’re taking her out… you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“The correct answer would have been, ‘no, Greg, I do not want to sleep with her because I am married’ but we’ll go with that.”

James sighs, looking up at him. “Yes. She’s very attractive. But no, I had no intention of entertaining her.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re doing this. You sick of your prostitutes?”

Greg scoffs. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It’s not? I’m mistaken then, because you were flirting with her, made comments about her body, called her to your office…”

“Okay,” he corrects. “It’s not just about sex.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to date her without saying the words? Because if so… congratulations.”

“No. I want to figure her out.”

“Just look in her chart. Save both of you the trouble.”

“It’s no fun if I learn all the answers at once.”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re single?” James asks.

“Do you ever wonder why you’re unhappily married?” Greg counters. “And. About that. Either her psychiatry training gave her some leg-up here or you tipped her off. She went through her files already. All that she left was a med list.”

“You already looked?” James asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. No birth control. Wonder what that’s about? Propranolol. Maybe some blood pressure issue… she’s young for that and that’s not first line. Idiopathic tachycardia? Maybe. Anxiety?”

“She can’t have an interesting med list. Stop looking for zebras. She’s barely thirty.”

“No birth control and barely thirty? Either she’s not getting any or she’s tied her tubes already.”

“Or… if she does have a blood pressure issue she can’t be on it. Or she has an IUD. Actually… don’t drag me into this.”

“Lamotrigine. Seizures. Bipolar disorder. What’s more likely?”

“lamotrigine isn’t the first-line med for either. Maybe you’ll have to talk to her.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “No fun. Hey… she’s on Vicodin.”

“A match made in hell,” Wilson grumbles, running his hands over his face.

“Well. She was. Eight years ago.”

“Most people don’t stay on it indefinitely.”

“Why would she leave that on there? It’s just these three meds.”

“Don’t you have an actual patient?”

He shrugs. “I need her address. I’m picking her up in three hours.”

“At least buy her dinner. Do not just bring her to your apartment.”

“I can’t learn anything if I just have sex with her. I mean, I’ll definitely learn some things, but…”

“Well, I don’t have her address.”

“You’ve got to have her address. You hired her.”

“Nope. I’m not her direct supervisor since she’s a consult. You’d have to talk to the head of psychiatry or Cuddy. And no. I’m not losing my job searching for it.”

“She took it out of her medical records,” he says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I guess she likes to play.”

——————

“So let me get this straight. You want me to risk the safety of one of my employees so you can drive by her apartment?”

Greg looks at Cuddy for a moment, as if he’s actually thinking about her summary of his request and he nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t be shocked you live the rest of your life like you practice medicine, but I don’t care about the results here. The answer is no, House.”

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because… if I get laid I’m in a better mood which means I’m less likely to cause you issues.”

“Right. Hm. Surprising, but that didn’t persuade me.”

“Have you met her?”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” she asks, looking up at him for a second.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She does work in psychiatry. For someone who constantly loves to tell me I have a drug problem and there’s something wrong with me I’d think you’d want to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I feel like you and I both know you’re not doing this for the emotional healing.”

“I won’t be doing anything if no one gives me her address,” he grumbles. He doesn’t tell her but for once he can’t believe how stupid he was that he fell for that, that he thought you might be interested.

“Hm. Well. I’m busy, House.”

He walks out without a word, heading back to his office. It’s 7:00.

Well. Alone again. Not much different than the last night or the night before that.

And he knows he could have Cameron. She’s been not so subtle in trying to get his attention, and yes, he certainly didn’t help matters by telling her she’s beautiful. Sure. But she isn’t… she’s not what he wants. He doesn’t need someone to take him on like a charity case.

You… you were fucking with him. And it’s fair, maybe he even deserves it. Maybe you got off on this, being a Walmart version of a femme-fatale, wounding men’s egos, seeing which ones would chase you and which ones would give up after a little pain.

Doesn’t really ease the sting of the ache of rejection, though. That you’d brush him off that easy, leave him without an avenue to reach you.

Sighing, he turns on the TV, trying and failing to focus on the screen, but you’d taken over his mind like a case he was on the brink of solving and just couldn’t get there.

8:15. He gets a page from your number. “YOURE LATE”. It reads.

Well. Screw that. He still had a way to reach you after all.

Possibly.

Smiling to himself, he calls down to the psych ward, asking for you. You’re not there, they say, but they’ll be happy to transfer him to your extension if you’re still in the building.

“I thought hookers took pride in their punctuality,” you say when you answer the phone.

“You’re kind of a bitch, huh?” He asks, trying not to let his chuckle be so audible in the receiver.

“You keep Wilson around. You love bitches.”

“Funny. Would’ve thought you’d been swooning, begging him to leave his wife by now.”

“I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Those big brown eyes don’t do it for you?”

“Sounds like they do it for you. Something you want to tell me, Gregory?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” he sighs.

“Not going to deny the gay allegations but you’ll draw the line at me calling you by your first name? What gives, House?”

“You can call me Greg.”

“Wow, could I? What an honor that we’re on first name basis.”

“Not many get the privilege.”

“Still haven’t denied the gay allegation.”

“Don’t really see the point. You’ll believe what you believe regardless.”

“Wow. Truly. A disaster of a man in all other regards but you’re comfortable in your sexuality? Greg is 1 for 0.”

“I have one male best friend and I’ve been single for five years. I embrace the gay jokes at this point.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while for you too, huh?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No reason,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You’re single now.”

“Moved here less than a year ago. Haven’t really had the chance to meet people.”

“Okay. What hellhole did you crawl out of to willingly move to Jersey?”

“Maybe I just like Frank Sinatra.”

“He’s dead. You didn’t come here for something. You left something and you came here to make sure whatever it was didn’t follow you.”

“Is this really the date you had in mind?” you ask.

“Nice deflection.”

“I just moved. No story there.”

“Also. Almost a year? And no one’s asked you out?”

“I can say no, you know.”

“You didn’t say no to me.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

“Cold. Come down here. I’ll walk you out to my car.”

————-

“Ah. The bitch arrives,” he says, looking you up and down again, not hiding his checking you out. You’d changed, red blouse with a leather jacket and most likely the same black slacks you were wearing earlier. “Not quite slutty enough.”

“Could say the same for you. Where’s the assless chaps?”

“I could never pull that off,” he says. “You could, though.”

He’d changed, too, a button down with slacks for once instead of jeans... at Wilson’s nagging of course.

“Here,” he says, handing you a bouquet of flowers he thought for a second were going to wilt away at his desk.

“Flowers? don’t tell me you went all out. Maybe you’re not as much of a disaster as I thought.”

“I shouldn’t give them to you since you stood me, a cripple, up.”

“Stood you up? You didn’t come get me.”

“You never told me where to get you. Ergo… you stood me up.”

“You were supposed to figure it out.”

“Yeah. Right. Wilson didn’t know and Cuddy wouldn’t put out. And you knew I wouldn’t figure it out. That’s why you stayed here.”

“You actually asked Cuddy?”

“What? I’ve asked her for much worse.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Falling head over heels for me already, Greg?”

“Puzzles are no fun if you can’t figure out the answer.” He doesn’t say that the unsolved cases haunt him, nag him and he sees them where they’re not.

One day he knows you’ll haunt him, too. One day, when you leave, when he pushes this until it breaks.

“Mm. Try harder then,” you say.

“You gave me an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Mm. Not really. You gave it to yourself. You said you were picking me up at my place. I stayed here and gave you the easy way out.”

“You could’ve left it—“ he cuts himself off, lest he incriminate himself.

“Left it where, Greg?” you ask, bemused.

“Nowhere.”

“Right,” you laugh. “So what opiate do you pop constantly?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Funny.”

“Why would that be funny, Greg?”

“Let me sleep with you first.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you’d be easy if you’ve put me through hell just to take you out,” he sighs.

“Don’t think I’ll leave you completely wanting, though,” you say, reaching out to touch his face, his stubble scratching your hand pleasantly, a shiver running down your spine. You run your thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Tentatively, he reaches out for you, too, copying your movements, hand on your cheek, thumb over your lips, but then your tongue darts out to run over the pad of his thumb and he thinks he might die right there. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles, smirking.

“Mm. You’re pretty, Greg,” you say, with enough sincerity he almost believes you’re not bullshitting him.

“Pretty? That’s a first.”

“Like no one’s ever told you.”

“Maybe ten years ago.”

“Mm. It’s those eyes,” you say, stepping a little closer to him, letting your breath mingle with his, snaking your hand around the back of his neck. Your lips almost touch, once, twice, wordlessly. “You gonna kiss me or not, Greg?”

You expect him to be rougher but he’s soft, testing the waters, lips still barely touching yours until he gives in, gives you what you want, kisses you like he means it. God, it’s been too long, and you missed it, the thrill of kissing somebody new, and you can feel his anticipation, electricity from your skin to his.

“Come on,” he says, breaking away from you after a few minutes. “I said I’d take you to dinner.”

———

“So what is it? Percs?” you ask once you’ve been seated and get waters. It’s a nice place he chose, somewhere a little out of the way, mostly serving Italian fare and seafood. It’s where men who haven’t been on a date in a while would choose to bring a woman, you figure.

“Percs? You do some time on the street?” he asks.

“So what if I did?” you counter.

He shakes his head. “Not your story. I’m not buying that.”

“Fine. Used to work at an addiction treatment facility when I was a nurse. Everyone calls them percs, though. Not exactly some down low street name.”

“It’s Vicodin.”

“Nasty drug,” you say.

“Really? I think they’re yummy.”

“You would.”

“What’s your personal aversion to them? They take you on a bad date?”

“Got them prescribed after a motorcycle accident. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Hm. You driving?”

“No.”

“What’d you break?”

“My leg.”

“Which one?”

“Right femur.”

Wilson was going to have a field day. Match made in hell, alright. Wilson’s personal hell, that is.

“Femurs are hard to break.”

“When your partner is drunk and doesn’t care about anything it’s not that hard,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Lucky I didn’t die. I mean, not that I cared so much then.”

“Partner? What were you, 19?”

“22,” you say, silently cursing yourself for not just saying boyfriend.

“Did they not make it?”

You look at him questioningly but don’t say anything about his use of the gender neutral. You don’t want to have that conversation tonight. “No. Life support for a couple weeks until they pulled it.”

“Hm. So that wasn’t the reason you left.”

“No. There was no reason. I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Right,” he says. “Jersey isn’t usually the place people pick for a change of scenery.”

“How’d you end up here, then?”

“There was a job opening,” he answers.

“You were running away from something, too.”

“No, I was running to something. I needed a place to hire me and Cuddy was the only one insane enough to take me on at that point.”

“You’ve always been discourteous and unprofessional?”

“Those are my middle names,” he snarks.

There’s a natural break in the conversation as the waiter comes back to take orders. Greg takes notice of what you order, a baked scrod, certainly not the least expensive thing you could have ordered but not the most, either. It’s an assessment of how you value yourself, he thinks. Average. Average is boring.

Or you could just like scrod, he supposes.

“Why are you single?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Life was busy. Didn’t have time for relationships,” you say, shrugging. “Why are you?”

“Myriad of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“My leg,” he responds indignantly.

“What happened to it?” you ask.”

“That’s a second date conversation.”

"You're in pain."

"How'd you know?" He asks sarcastically.

"Was it the cane? The Vicodin?"

'I think it was your charming personality.

Anyway. If you're going to cite your leg as a reason you're single, I'd love to know why."

"I was with someone when it happened. It's a long story."

"We've got nothing but time,” you say.

"You really won't sleep with me if I don't tell you?" House asks.

"Nope. Keep pushing me and I never will.

Tell me."

House sighs dramatically. "I had an infarction in my thigh muscle. No one knew what it was, I diagnosed it, but... so much of the muscle was dead already. I didn't want an amputation, I wanted a bypass. I didn't care about the pain. I just wanted to be able to use my leg. I asked them to put me under sedation to cope with the pain at the time... and the woman I was with decided it would be a good idea to remove the dead muscle completely."

"You made her your medical proxy?”

"Mm. Stupid decision on my part,” he says.

"Any medical background?"

"Nope."

"Then yes. Stupid decision,” you agree.

"I'm sure you've made plenty of stupid decisions. Getting on that motorcycle, for one,” he says, adding a jab at the end so to help heal his wounded ego a little.

"We all make mistakes. It's human. So... what's the reason now? You resent people who can walk without pain so you don't get close to anybody? It interferes with sex? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it long term?"

House sighs and rolls his eyes. "Do you really think it interferes with sex? Is that what you're worried about?"

"No. I'm asking if that's what you-"

"No. You see me as a potential sexual partner, correct?"

"I never said that."

"We're going with it. You ask me as if you're posing the question to me... but you're projecting."

"And you're deflecting. I asked you three questions and you didn't answer one" you point out.

"No. It doesn't interfere with sex, at least not to the point where you have to worry if I

can get you off or not. Whenever you decide to spread your legs for me... you'll see."

You feel your cheeks redden a little and cough. "I asked you two other questions."

"They weren't what you were getting at."

"Entertain me."

"No. It's not that I resent people. Am I jealous? Sometimes. I'd love to know what it's like to wake up in the morning without pain. But I'm not going to wake up every morning wanting to kill my partner because she jogs every morning and I can't."

"Is it because you've been able to accept it?

Was it an issue with your girlfriend at the time, coming to terms with it?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

Greg shrugs. “Not hard to put that together. I bet I could get a psychiatric nursing degree too.”

"Third question? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it?"

"Mm. Or she'd want to deal with it for the wrong reasons, take me on like I'm a charity case. That's unattractive for an abundance of reasons. You could go that way, I think, or you used to."

"You think I'm taking you on as a charity case? You pursued me.”

"You agreed. You didn't think for a second,

'well, he's a cripple, I'd better at least give him a shot'?"

"Your leg is not the reason I am here," you say firmly.

"What is it then, my deep blue eyes? This big, thick cane? My ray of sunshine personality?"

You chuckle. "It's your drive. You barely knew me, decided I was interesting and pursued me without abandon. That is attractive."

"You're not curious as to why you?"

"Little tits and ass, as Keith Richards would say?" You ask. "I'm used to being objectified. Pretty privilege is a thing. I'm sure you have noticed that yourself. If there's something deeper, enlighten me."

"Well, you are attractive, there's no doubting that. But I intend to find out why you're in the medical field, and psychiatry at that. It's like Cameron, on my team. You're gorgeous enough to have become an actress, marry a millionaire. Something happened to you to make you choose this."

"Did you take Cameron out until you figured what her deal was?"

"No. Cameron pities me. I have no interest in her that way."

"Well. Why do you assume brilliant minds reside only in unattractive faces? Why do you assume I worked my ass off to get here because of some past trauma when this could have just been a goal of mine like it could've been if I wasn't as hot as you think l am?”

"Okay. Then why did you choose psychiatry?"

"That's a second date conversation." You quip.

He smiles wryly at you. "You coaxed my issue out of me. Come on."

“I hold fast to my principles. You're weak,” you say, grinning back. “Why are you a doctor, then, hm?”

“I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Right…” you say. “Chase is pretty. Foreman is too, you know. Either of them could’ve done something easier.”

“Chase is trying desperately to fill his father’s shoes. His father was a doctor, and well, you know how that story goes. And Foreman is an overcoming adversity case. He could’ve been a hood rat. He was on that path.”

“You know… women just started to be able to open credit cards in 1971. Maybe I don’t want to have to rely on a man to make a living.”

“No. Believe me, I get that. My point was there’s easier ways to make money. You chose the hard way,” he says. “And unpopular way. People become doctors and they fantasize about cutting people open and diagnosing infections, not getting hit and restraining children.”

“Your hypothesis is stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be an actor or model… or an infectious disease specialist,” you say. “And I think we’re all damaged. All of us. No one gets out unscathed.”

“No one just chooses psychiatry because it’s such a good time.”

“They do when it can make them ridiculous money without as many hardships as medical school. I could be using my degree to write suboxone scripts and make more than I’m making right now. I know a lot of people who went back for that.”

“Proving my point. Why are you doing things the hard way?”

“You take on the most difficult cases across the country, cases no one else can solve. You’re doing things the hard way, too. Why? Because the easy way is boring.”

Greg smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

—————

You don’t quite know how you got here. Or well, you do. Greg asked you to come back to his place for drinks, and you agreed, and you should’ve known better but it’s been years and you can’t really care too much when his warm body is underneath you, his tongue down your throat, his hands everywhere he can reach.

“How bad are you hurting?” you ask him, breathlessly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he whispers back, reaching a hand back to touch your chin. “What do you want to come of tonight?”

“Let’s just see where this leads us,” you say, leaning back to kiss him again.

But he stops you, gentle pressure on your jaw to prevent you from closing the space between your lips. “I need to know what you want.”

You sigh, pressing your elbow in his chest as leverage to lift yourself off him, and you sit next to his feet on the other side of the couch. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I don’t want this to head somewhere we can’t get back from. Move over,” he says, and winces, moving his legs back over to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t sexual trauma,” you huff, aggravated. “You can say I’m damaged all you want but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like glass.”

“I tried to take your shirt off and you pushed me away but you kept kissing me. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” You ask, glaring at him.

Truth was, you were using him, maybe just like he was using you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to make quite as bad of a decision as sleeping with the man in front of you in a long time. And as bad decisions go, he wasn’t so terrible anyway. You like him so far, you think he’s attractive. But you know Wilson is right, that he might drag you down to places you haven’t been in a long time.

Still.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt something. You want the hating yourself in the morning for giving yourself away so soon, you want the walk of shame as he drives you back to the hospital where you left your car, you want to revel in the fact that Greg will be telling people how you were in bed, bragging that he got you in between his sheets. You want the dopamine hit and the subsequent crash.

You spent so long getting healthy but you had to keep everyone at arm’s length to do it. It was probably the worst idea to try to get close to someone else who also isolated people and couldn’t even be healthy then.

Why didn’t he just want it to be easy? Just fuck you and be done with it, continue if it’s convenient and worth the effort. Easy is boring, sure, but sex isn’t boring even if it’s easy (if so, he wouldn’t be seeing hookers, would he?). And you know he wants to fuck you, but why he wants to make it difficult… it’s beyond your reach at this moment.

“I want… I don’t know,” he admits, because he doesn’t.

Prostitutes were one thing. Vulnerability there didn’t really matter. They were doing a job and they didn’t even take a second glance at his leg. As long as they were getting paid. If he wanted attention drawn to it, they’d kiss it red with their lipstick but because he tells them to leave it alone… they do.

Sleeping with somebody new… it’s so much harder. It’s so much easier with someone you know. Or someone you don’t have an obligation to know.

With an aim to please rather than take, he doesn’t know how he’d perform.

Looking at his face, reading the ambivalence there, it suddenly clicks. If Wilson knew the truth, if you really are the first woman since his injury, there’s a lot of insecurity in being seen.

And you know all about being seen.

It’s easy to come off with bravado and arrogance but when you’re actually in the situation, when you’re called to be vulnerable… it’s something else entirely.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. God yes,” he affirms, nodding his head. “Don’t take tonight as an indication.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you say, nodding.

“That doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s still sex.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re in high school.”

“What do you think lesbians do?”

He raises his eyebrows, chucking a little. “Are you a lesbian?”

“You wish,” you laugh. “Say you could be the one that changed me.”

“I would. Except people don’t change.”

“Yeah. They do. They change all the time,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Every day, every hour, every moment… it changes you. They’re minuscule changes, changes you don’t see immediately, but you look back a decade and then it clicks.”

“Right. Maybe. But fundamentally people don’t change. The parts change, but the whole never does.”

You want to say that he has been changed, that his leg injury changed him, that he holds so steadfast to that belief that people never change so he can convince himself he was always this miserable. Sure, you get the feeling he was fucked before, but this did change him. Made him worse. Made him push people away.

You don’t say that, though. You know deep down he knows it and doesn’t want to face it.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, insecurity creeping in, and he doesn’t know why this is so difficult or why he cares at all. He could pay for what he wanted, live his hedonistic lifestyle and not have to worry if the woman in front of him wanted to fuck him or not.

You aren’t boring.

But that’s not true, anyway, that’s not why he keeps people at arms length. Routine medical cases are boring, but people aren’t. It’s why he went through all the files he could of the applicants for his team, trying to pick the combination that would interest him the most, play off each other in ways he could live vicariously through. They weren’t the most deserving, or the most academically gifted, they were the most interesting. It’s why he loves gossip, loves knowing about things that don’t concern him, always living life like it’s a spectator sport and he’s got front row seats.

It’s always the people that love to watch that hate to be seen.

“I could be convinced,” you say, in that bitchy tone he knows hes going to love to hate. You soften; though, turn to him, your hair falling a little in your face, kiss him gently on the mouth.

Greg responds in kind, deepening the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling lightly before traveling to your breasts, kneading your flesh through your shirt.

“Could you be convinced to have lesbian sex with me right now?” he asks.

You’d burst out laughing if you also weren’t so admittedly and ashamedly turned on right now. “Yeah. Sure. Think you’d have an easier time in bed though.”

“You treat me like all your girls?” he asks, a glint in his eye, and oh, there’s the being seen. You’re not a fan, either. You’re surprised he’s not being forthright about what he no doubt is putting together, but ultimately you’re thankful.

“A slut’s a slut,” you quip as he leans back in, his mouth barely touching yours and he chuckles against your skin.

“You really are a bitch.”

“Mm,” you agree, closing the distance between you again, pulling him to stand up with you, letting him lean on you as he puts weight on it again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, without thinking, never one to apologize for his actions but never one to let his disability affect others, either.

“It’s okay, Greg,” you whisper. “I got you.”

“No, I’ll go get—“

You stop him, holding his jaw gently in your hand. “It’s okay.”

Empathy. Not sympathy.

You had been here, in a way. Femur fractures take a good six months to heal. You walked half a year in his shoes on the same medication he was on.

Now it all clicks, what James had done, keeping you two apart to bring you together, doing something by not doing anything, letting it all happen by chance. He had been patient enough to let time do most of the work, something Greg could never do, but something that ultimately worked in his favor.

It’s okay. We all need someone we can lean on. If you want it, you can lean on me.

You still lived a life without pain.

Greg hates it, hates it all, and if you had had just the slightest twinge of force, the slightest indication that you were saying it was okay just to say something he would’ve told you to get out. He hates the way it kills intimacy, makes him older, more decrepit, makes him dependent, in a way. There’s certain things he can never do, or that he’d need help to do, and it’s something a woman would leave him for.

It’s something a woman did leave him for.

He wants to hug you, but that would feel too much, too intimate, too soon, so he kisses you again instead, and then the two of you hobble on to his bedroom. It hurts. God, it hurts, aches like it always does, maybe more so—the last pill he took was at dinner, but you make it, helping him ease onto the bed and wasting no time, knowing he was insecure, wasting no time to prove you still wanted him, mouth on his, your legs straddling his good thigh, moving on to his neck, laving your tongue over his skin, biting gently, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“Hey,” Greg says, stopping your hand’s ministrations.

“I’m only taking your shirt off,” you assure him. “I won’t go further than that.”

“Fine. Not much to see there, either,” he mutters.

“I like tits,” you blurt without thinking. Jesus Christ. You have to stop doing that.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Sure you do. Good thing mine are bigger than Cuddy’s.”

“They absolutely are not.”

“You familiar with their size?”

You stop yourself just in time before you say “I wish.”

He lets you finish, helping you take his shirt off, take his undershirt off, shivering as you kiss down the length of his torso to the top of his pants. “I’ll show you mine,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. You move over so he can see the scar down the side of your leg, deep gash where they cut you open, you were a month away from a nursing license and you were in the OR, someone’s patient before you could ever be on the side you studied for.

You were lucky, they kept saying. You didn’t feel lucky at all.

Tentatively, his hand comes to touch your skin and you nod, silent agreement that he could touch. He’s gentle even though he doesn’t need to be, touching carefully, tracing the line of the scar up and down, hard keloid under his skin.

“This isn’t what you don’t want me to see,” Greg says.

“Hm?”

“Your upper body. That’s why you didn’t want me to take your shirt off.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“I don’t care,” you lie.

“Yes, you do,” he counters immediately, looking at you knowingly. “Why are you lying?”

You sigh, pulling him back to you, kissing him hard, hoping he’ll shut up if you don’t give him the chance to speak. “Just touch me already.”

It would be so much easier if he just fucked you, fucked you over, fucked you up all within the course of a month. You get the feeling right now, as your tongue is down his throat and you’re letting out moans against his lips you try to suppress as his fingers enter you, stretch you out, reach angles you couldn’t reach by yourself, you get the feeling this is going to be for the long haul. Not that he’s necessarily going to be down on one knee, but that he’s going to drag out hurting you like he’s dragging his fingers against your walls, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but never quite bringing you there.

“You okay?” you ask him, breathless, head hazy, you just want him, want him closer than this, want him deep in you.

“Shh,” Greg whispers, almost a little irritated. “I’m busy right now.”

You can’t really focus on coming up with a retort because he starts rubbing your clit and as you tilt your head back into the pillows, he starts biting at the flesh he can now easily access, starting gentle but then applying more pressure with his teeth, smirking as you whimper.

Sweat trickles down your back and you wish this was different, but he’s naked from the waist up and you’re unclothed from the waist down, and it’s stupid, you know it’s dumb, that you’re letting this man fuck you with his fingers before you let him see you fully naked. It’s not like no one has before. It’s just a conversation you don’t want to have again.

Still. All this is making you a little too hot to be half-clothed.

Greg wonders why he let you in at all. Why he went through the trouble, bought you dinner, why he’s trying to get you off right now. Maybe it’s to fuck with James. Sure, it was originally, but now he feels like it was James who fucked with him, set him up, used predictable behaviors to create a predictable outcome. Still. If you’d been professional with him instead of giving him crassness right back, he would’ve decided to make your life a living hell instead of getting you in between his sheets. Either way, he was going to make someone miserable.

Himself, first and foremost.

Not that he can really be miserable right now. It’s not terrible being needed in this sense, he’s remembering.

You weren’t like Stacy, though, not here. You’re louder, not in a patronizing way where you exaggerate your moans to try and stroke a man’s ego, but it’s like you genuinely can’t hold yourself back. It’s hot. It’s unreserved. It’s… passionate in a way Stacy just wasn’t. She loved him, he knows that, but when things got hard and he got mean instead of fighting back she got cold and walked away.

Not that he can glean exactly how you’d be in an argument from how you act in bed, but he has a feeling you don’t let go of things easily.

And… well. Takes one to know one.

Who would give in, though?

His relationship with Stacy worked before his leg because Stacy would accommodate, she would compromise herself for him. It’s why his friendship with James works now. Sure. Both of them gave him some pushback — it’s not like they in good conscience could let him get away with all the things he wanted to do. And eventually he pushed Stacy until she broke.

You, though? You don’t seem like you shatter easily. If anything you seem like you’d harden like a scar, healing over stronger, uglier, thicker, nothing really hurting you because you’d just put more walls up. You’d fight him to the bitter end.

And you know, maybe he wants that. Someone he’s not afraid to push too far because he knows you’ll push right back the second he gets even an inch.

All he really knows is your vague med list, that you got into a motorcycle accident almost a decade ago, and that you chose to be a psychiatric provider among all other things you could have been. And yet… he feels like he can glean much more.

All he really knows in this moment is that you’re coming apart under his fingers, gripping his forearm with your hands as he drags out your orgasm, trying to get him away from your now overstimulated cunt.

“She comes in colors everywhere,” he mutters, smirking lazily at you, dragging his fingers out of you, finally, then brings them to his mouth, sucking slowly on each one.

You scoff at his comment, but just as quickly he sees the light turn green again and you straddle his left thigh, coming to kiss his mouth, hard, bare cunt against his slacks and he can’t help it, he’s thinking about you wrecking them, thinking about your wet pussy on what could’ve been his bare thigh… and he groans despite himself, in pain, yes, but also pleasure - and he’s pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, and he begins to remember why men put themselves through what could very well be the potential torture of dating a woman.

It’s just so much better when it’s with someone you know. Or… someone you need to know everything about, need to memorize like they’re an extension of yourself.

You’re not soulmates. It’s not love. It’s not romance, like James would decree.

You won’t fix him. He sure as hell won’t fix you.

But you’ll do something to each other, alright.

#greg house x reader #house x reader #greg house x you #gregory house x reader #house md #gregory house

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ghoulie-67-baby · 1 year ago

Text

One too many mistakes- Criminal minds.

Summary: You’re a member of the BAU and have been captured by the unsub. You know they’ll save you but you have to be patient.

Prompts: You escape captivity and start running, only to run into your saviour.

Warnings: Blood, mentions of murder, kidnapping, language, crying, vomiting.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader.

Word count: 1,068.

"You're sick." I spat up at the unsub, my hands aching from being tied up. "Why do you do this?" I watched as his chapped lips curled into a sickening grin, revealing rotted teeth and the stench of blood on his breath.

"Maybe I am sick, maybe I'm the normal one." He shrugged, attacking a tube to the cannula in my arm. "Either way I enjoy it." My eyes widened at the horrifying chuckle that filled the room. Silence overcame us as he fiddled with his equipment. I knew what would happen soon enough. He would collect as much of my blood as he wanted, drink it, and repeat for a few days. When he wanted fresh blood he would dump my body just like with all the other women. Two nights had already passed and I knew my time was limited.

"Rest now sweet pet, ill be back soon." My body slid down the wall as I feigned exhaustion.

A few hours had passed since he left and I had been working hard to escape the ropes. I just about managed to fray the one around my ankles using a nail sticking through the floorboard. My hands shook in my lap, the locks on the door echoing through the room. With my head hanging, I faked sleep, holding back a grin when he left the door wide open.

'That's your first mistake asshole.' The thought made me shiver with anticipation but I waited patiently, knowing timing was imperative. Once he turned back around, I readied myself. His second mistake.

Scrambling to my feet, I yanked my arms from the cannulas and sprinted for the door, not giving him the chance to react.

Pains seared through my limbs as they screamed in protest. The ground was uneven and the lack of light from the dense foliage proved it more difficult to guide myself. Heavy boot falls sounded from behind me as he began the chase. Using tree trunks and bushes as cover, I hid myself and tried to figure out my direction.

"You bitch!" I could tell he was stalking closer, his voice getting louder. Taking an unsteady breath, I stumbled through the threes, trying to ignore the dizziness clouding my head. "You can't run forever!" He was right, especially with the state I was in, but I'd give it a damn good go if it meant a better chance of surviving.

"I can hear you," he sang into the darkness, his sickening grin flashing through my head. "I can smell you, almost taste you. All that fresh blood going to waste." My heart raced in my chest, cementing my fear that he could actually hear it.

Tears clouded my vision as I staggered through branches and rotting leaves. The tree roots seemed to latch onto my feet as I ran, making me trip and struggle for balance. With my captor's voice converging on me and my senses overtaken by panic and pain I didn't notice the figures ahead of me.

The howl of a dog broke me from my panicked stupor and I fell back, eyes wide and blurry as the animal barked at me.

"Y/N?" A figure called my name and I scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my bound palms. They focused a little better, revealing the angry face of Hotch and the concern and relief of my team. My body flooded with relief as my knees shook, teeth chattering in the autumn air. "Hey, you're okay. Y/N walk to me."

I followed the voice, tears streaming down my face as I tried to stay on my feet. My face came into contact with a bulletproof vest but from the cologne, I could tell it was Hotch. Seconds passed before he pulled away from me, hands holding my elbows as his eyes inspected me for injuries. My bound wrists pressed against his chest as his eyes rested on the bleeding wounds on my arms.

"Tell me sweet pet," the yelling made my head snap up as Hotch untied the rope from my sore wrists. "How close am I? Close enough to taste you yet?" A shiver passed up my spine as I gripped my boss's sleeves, tears still falling as the team moved to shield me.

"He won't touch you again, we won't let him." I faced the direction of the voice, hands clutching Aaron's behind my back as the grimy man came into view.

"Tut tut sweet pet, thought we were exclusive?" Hotch's hands flinched slightly as I shook. Third mistake.

"You can't go anywhere now, man, put down the weapon." Morgan's voice was hard and tense as agents surrounded the unsub. "Put it down!". His eyes stayed locked on mine as he put his shotgun down, a sick smile on his face, and knelt amongst the autumn leaves.

The agents closed in quickly, Morgan snapped cuffs on him before hauling him to his feet. I motioned for him to bring him over.

"Why?" My voice shook no matter how hard I tried to keep it steady. "Why did you really do it?"

"I already told you pet," he leant closer, ignoring Morgan's pull. "Because I enjoy it." With a wave of demented laughter, he was dragged off, laughter mixing with Morgan's commands.

what little colour was in my face drained as I doubled over, hurling up the bile in my empty stomach.

"I've got you. JJ, alert the medics." My hair was gathered back as I heaved what little I could, retches shaking my body.

"M'sorry didn't mean to do that." I chuckled weakly, not even trying to make it sound real as I dragged myself upright. Aaron shook his head, wrapping his jacket around me before guiding me out of the forest, the flash of the ambulance calling my name.

"Don't apologise. I'm just sorry we weren't here sooner. He didn't do anything else did he?" He trailed off, not wanting to imagine what else that monster could do.

"No, he didn't do anything else, just the blood. I'll never look at a doctor the same way ever again." I sighed, sitting on the ambulance step, moving so he could sit with me. "You were here in time, that's all that matters."

Resting my heavy head on his shoulder, exhaustion stopped me from caring that he was my boss, let alone closed off. Instead, I chose to revel in his warmth.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #x reader #reader insert

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weebsinstash · 1 year ago

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Ok so tmi (on the tmi blog lol) but the first day of my Cycle I had a dream that I had just given birth and I was holding my baby and I was goddamn euphoric even though the logical part of me was like “???? I am 22 and broke i CANNOT have a baby rn” and I woke up crying and called my friends like I WANNA HAVE A BAAAAAABYYYYY I WANT A BAAAAAAABYYYYYYYY so basically. Imagine. Miguel catches you in a moment of weakness. And he NEVER. FUCKING. FORGETS IT.

Oh wow girlie those period hormones grabbed you by the uterus and absolutely REFUSED to let go

NO BUT FOR REAL don't look at me but I've been thinking of a concerning number of ideas where it's like, "Reader suddenly realizes they may want a baby and is actually putting serious thought into it and Miguel finds out (bet your ass Peter B tells him, i can see him as a "well intentioned" platonic guardian/mentor figure who sells you out to Miguel the second he thinks you're doing something risky or he thinks it's for your own good) and Miguel starts making all these plans and preparations behind your back to have a baby with you" and obviously I like the extra juicy option of "he found out you got extremely depressed and tied your tubes or something because you either see no point in you having a kid/think it's too late, OR, Miguel was the only person you were looking at as a potential father and you either decide it wouldn't work out or he does something to hurt you and you lose trust in him" so like, the double whammy combo of him being hit with the news you basically walled off your fertility that he's kinda fantasizing about AND you blame him for it

You see him chokeslam Miles on the train and having all these serious anger and stress issues and you're like "hmmmm don't like that" and basically make the tubal ligation appointment that week (but, you know, he'll either interfere before you can actually get it or even reverse it later on)

Like. Ugh I'm not sure if I should go super into detail bc I feel like I want to put this scene in the YouTwo fic or in a different idea i have thats more centered around motherhood, but, picture he catches you in his monitor room one day after you've lost your home dimension, you're having a little more than just a small identity crisis, and he catches you having Lyla show you the model for your life, or what the algorithm had predicted your life was supposed to be like before your universe just magically poofed away. You're just staring at these holograms with tears running down your face and he occasionally catches you starting to reach out like you want to touch what you see. He comes to stop you because he already knows all too well where this could lead, you can't become tempted to break canon and go somewhere else, but you beg him to let you watch just a little longer

"I was supposed to get MARRIED! I was supposed to have a BABY! I was supposed to have a family!! It's not fair!!"

And he's in total agreement with you because, who even fucking knows why your universe suddenly destabilized and vanished. He sees you as this person who has so much promise and potential who had their destiny and future literally snatched away from them and now you're lost and confused on what you're supposed to do, like really he totally understands why you feel so aimless. But watching these holograms is like torturing yourself, and he goes to stop you when you just keep crying because this is basically sending you into a critical mental health episode

"Someone was supposed to fall in love with me... we were supposed to have a baby... would I have been a good mom? Would I have had a boy or a girl? Cant you at least let me find out what my daughter's name would have been?"

And it's like NOOOO you can't hit him with the daughter card, don't you see what you've DONE!!! Gets him right in the heart. Now he's got this massive soft spot for you, bigger than it already was anyways, and he can tell over time you're just really starting to, grieve the future you were supposed to have, falling into a depression. Peter B is hanging around with Mayday like he usually does as both men can tell you're really staring at his baby today and he offers to teach you how to hold her. you're standing there misty eyed twirling one of her little curls around your finger as her dad starts volunteering information to you, "you know she's about XYZ months old now, they aren't really talking yet at this age but they're really curious about their surroundings and--"

Miguel watches as you start talking about children and suddenly get this really really tortured expression and just say "it's not meant to happen" and or some combination of "it's too late for me" and gives him his baby back a little too quickly in typical "I am clearly leaving the room to go cry" fashion. Meanwhile Peter B is like 38 wondering why you think you're out of time or it's not supposed to happen

Miguel's working one day and Peter is trying to shove his phone in his face, "you know I think this is one of the BEST photos of Mayday I've ever taken, she's looking so cute here, you just GOTTA see it" and Pete just won't let up and Miguel finally looks just to humor him because the man is being unusually annoying and, it's a photo of Mayday, duh, but being held by you, and you're clearly looking down at her with watering eyes and the smallest little smile that says "I'll die for you" and Peter is just all 😏 as Miguel is 'suddenly' interested in the photo. "That's a really good photo of MAYDAY, right? 😏 I figured you would like it, that photo of MAYDAY 😏" and Miguel is just grumbling and grouchy bc he sees what this guy is tryna do, but he's still like ".... send it to me later, I'm trying to work right now"

It's even worse if you're a member of his strike force because you're constantly around him, Peter B, and Jess. Miguel just, idly wondering where you are and deciding to walk around a little bit and eventually finds that you're having some sort of conversation with Peter B and Jess and he can tell you look really weepy as the other woman invites you to feel her baby kicking, like, you could not more obviously be developing baby fever, and you ARE around that age, and ESPECIALLY if you live in Nueva York because it's like, YEAH you're still a Spider and YEAH you help the Society with stuff but. Your home universe is gone, your canon is gone, you're kind of. Free as a bird really? But you're also scared because, if someone was destined to love you, does that mean it technically isn't meant to be to fall for anyone else? You can't exactly hook up with people at the Spider Society because of canon or them already having relationships, and you don't exactly have identifying documents if you wanted to try and adopt

I think it'd really reach a stressful breaking point if you and the strike force go to another universe to fight an anomaly and Miguel catches you staring out into the crowd of people you just saved and he sees what youre looking at instantly and his heart sinks. Another you, another normal you, never bitten by a Spider, is standing there with her husband and her little sputtering baby, and he has to all but drag you away as you cry "it's not fair, it's not fair, why does SHE get a normal life!!"

Sidebar for a moment, I think that's probably also one thing that would be so INFURIATING about the doppelganger stealing your life story because THEY have a home universe and YOU don't. They take your life, they take literally everything you have left, your friends, your sense of community, your literal purpose. I've already decided on YTs motivations but could you imagine you finding out YouTwo actually has a decent life and maybe even a husband and kid of their own and you're just furious because they're basically abandoning their duties back home not only as a Spider but as a parent/spouse to steal what YOU have? You can't kill them because it would break their canon and kill like countless people but Miguel and the others would def let you beat the shit out of your evil double and get some of your anger out. Like. Jesus could you imagine Miguel kicks you out thinking you're the fake and after you're gone, YouTwo breaks canon and that's what exposes them, or theyre exposed when they eventually take a trip back home and get caught. The Society's regret, the guilt, the anger, just marinate me with the drama

But anyways back to Being Sad and Babycrazy, you go missing one day and Miguel has to decide what to do when he finally tracks your bracelet and you're back in THAT dimension again. He has to physically track you down using your bracelet's signal because you refuse to answer his messages and you're, in the home of the other you while she takes a brief nap, in the nursery, holding her baby. Miguel quietly climbs through the window and you're in a rocking chair and you've got her hugged to your chest and your eyes are closed and you sense him and, obviously cry because you know you have to leave. Unlike with the holograms he doesn't give you any leeway on this, putting his foot down that this has to end here, this cant go on, this is already so dangerous. And, you're good for him and understand, leaving the baby back in its crib as you and Miguel warp away. You're heartbroken but ultimately understanding when he has to disable your watch's ability to visit that specific dimension again, and you're obviously extremely depressed for a while, having multiple Spiders coming to check in on you as word spreads around that you aren't doing well

I can just see Reader becoming kind of desperate because the only options for a baby you really have left is to either 1. get a serious relationship, which you're scared of because you have to trust that person and who can you even pick, you're nervous about breaking canon or something, or 2. Get some random person to impregnate you so you can run off with the baby

Miguel gets a call from Peter B that you went to a bar and you're EXTREMELY wasted as you try to pick someone, ANYONE up and like, you have admirers for sure but there's enough decent people around to keep the creeps in line, clearly you are in a vulnerable state of mind right now, and Miguel gets to tote your drunken ass back home as you drunkenly word vomit all your feelings to him because, unfortunately for you, he has your trust, and you need comfort right now, and you even ask him about what being a parent was like for him. You encouragingly tell him he shouldn't give up if he still wants kids, you trying to be genuinely nice and not trying to imply anything, blubbering about how he deserves to still be happy and he's still got time, and here's Miguel who's practically tracking your cycles at this point, TOTALLY not going to use anything you say to him while you're piss-drunk against you

Especially if you add ABO into the mix and you have a Miguel who's either Alpha/Omega and is already babycrazy af and he sees you literally fucking YEARNING for it, like. You've got a 6'9" Alpha basically looking at you, his poor lil Omega crush, with the big yandere goo goo eyes and how you need all this love and support and stability and how you're in need of a proper husband and of course he's all too willing to volunteer himself for the job. Even if he's too awkward to come right out to you and say it, he'll be thinking in his head and planning behind your back ways to take care of you, keep you away from any drugs/alcohol (no more smoking weed with metro boomin Spiderman, you've gotta detox your body to have a baby! Also, different concept but, Miguel basically keeping you in a bubble to control all your meals and recreational activities and all of that so he can make sure you're perfectly healthy for a baby)

Don't let this man catch you slipping up! Throw you to the Spider Society and you'll come back pregnant 😭 he sees you so depressed and wanting a baby and it's like well, if your life needs new meaning, he can help literally make one for you 😏 he's been feeling protective and nurturing of you anyways, so, it's an extra benefit for him to think of getting to have both you AND a little baby of your very own ❤️

#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere spidereverse #sinprompts #yandere stuff #godddd listening to light the city up reallt gets me hyped

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 2 months ago

Text

Do You Know What Today Is?

Summary:

Alpha!Captain Syverson x Omega!POC!Reader "Sunny" Sweet little snapshot 13 years in the future…

Warnings:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Captain Syverson, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Humor, Female Character of Color, POV Multiple

Notes:

Hello Heathens! When I originally wrote this it was around my 13th wedding anniversary 2 years ago and it had me in my feels. Lots of things change when you're growing a family together and I just wanted to put those feels somewhere. When I write Sy, more times than not he is heavily influenced by my own soldier husband, hence this little story. I hope you enjoy. Happy Reading!!!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Having securely strapped in your 3 year old and given her ‘just one more’ kiss on the forehead, you turn to give Leti a hug. “Thank you again for taking all of them tonight. We’ll be sure to pick them up before it gets too late.”

“Yeah there will be no picking them up tonight, Sunny. Dante and I decided to make tonight a big sleepover party for all the kids. Well mainly the older ones. I’m not so sure how well the toddlers can hang.” She chuckles out.

“Are you serious?” You ask bewildered.

“Of course we are. When’s the last time you two had the whole house to yourselves for a night that wasn't heat or rut related? It’s our gift to you.” She responds.

“Honestly I can’t even remember the last time I woke up on my own time without one of mine needing me for something. It would be nice to have a lay in with my Alpha. You’re sure Dante is ok with this? That’s a lot of energy for one night. With my 3 that makes 5 pups in one house.” You ramble out.

“I’m sure. You’ve taken ours so many times without hesitation. It’s the least we can do. Especially on your anniversary. You guys need some time to be mates. Just an Alpha and his Omega. If you end up pregnant again I want naming rights though.” She nudges your hip with hers.

“Ha ha. Very funny. Factory is closed, remember? During my c-section with Kaylee I had my tubes tied once she safely vacated the womb. My body couldn’t handle another pregnancy anyway.” Your mind wanders to the difficulties of that pregnancy for a moment. “How about we owe you one. Could even be last minute.”

“That sounds great to me. I better get going so we can grab stuff to make pizzas and lots of snacks. Maybe a movie or two. I don’t want to hear a word from you until after 10am tomorrow.”

“What if I want to check on the kids?”

“They’ll be fine and you know it. If anything happens we’ll call. Promise. Enjoy your time with your Alpha. Turn off the mom brain for the night. Just be an Omega.”

“Okay. I’ll try. Thank you again.”

“No thanks needed.” She hugs you one last time. “See you tomorrow, Sunny.”

You stand on the porch as you watch your sister in law drive away with your three pups in tow.

Sy will be home in a couple hours. Better get myself ready for my Alpha.

Sy’s POV

As soon as I open my truck door my nose is assaulted with the aroma of perfectly seasoned steak cooking mixed with my sweet little Omegas intoxicating scent. I step through the door and hear music coming from the kitchen, a normal occurrence. What isn't a normal occurrence is the lack of squeals and giggles followed by a torrent of little feet racing to the door to greet me.

Why is it so quiet? Where is everybody?

I take my boots off, place my keys in the dish and head towards the kitchen. “Sunshine, I’m home. Something sure smells good in here.” I cross the threshold and am met with a feast for my eyes. Standing in front of the stove, swaying her hips while humming along to the melody playing through the bluetooth is my gorgeous wife in a little black dress.

“Welcome home Captain.” She turns around to reveal the low plunge of her skin tight garment. The girls displayed like a snack just for me.

“Fuck, Sugar. Look at you. Where are the pups? It’s awfully quiet.” I take a step towards my Omega to embrace her but she stops me with a hand.

“They’re over at my brother's place for a sleepover tonight. Go have a seat at the table please, Alpha.” She tells me. I'm curious about what’s going on, so I do as I’m told. Not before sneaking a grope to that glorious ass of hers though. “Your horrible at keeping your hands to yourself.”

I take my seat and face her. “Can you blame me? I’ll never have enough of you. Need ta get my daily dose in.” I watch as she turns off the burner and plates our food, setting it gently on the counter before grabbing her phone.

“Do you know what today is?” She asks me as she changes the song, sauntering over to stand between my legs. I’m not having any of that as I run my hands up her thighs and place her on my lap.

I trace a finger along her neck, grazing my healed mark that I reclaimed more times than I can count over the last 13 years. “If I didn't already know that it was our anniversary, you playing Tony! Toni! Toné! certainly does the trick.” She beams down at me with that radiating smile I love so much. I pull her closer and place my lips on hers, finally getting the kiss I’ve been craving since I left the house this morning.

“Mmm. That’s better.” I place a kiss on her claiming mark, I’ll be freshening it up later if what I think is happening is going on. “So let me get this right. The kids are at Dante’s and we have the entire house to ourselves until tomorrow?”

“That would be correct, Captain.” She relays to me while stroking my beard, a favorite pastime of hers.

“So. If I wanted to place you on this table.” I lift her up onto the table and spread her thighs wide enough to fit me. I notice that my little Omega is going commando under her dress and my dick turns to steel in my pants. She’s already glistening, slick slowly escaping out of her sweet little pussy, making a mess amongst her thighs.

A growl travels up my chest at the sight before me. “And devour this sweet little pussy til I’ve satisfied my hunger. Then bend you over it and fuck you til your screaming in pleasure as you come undone on my knot.” I watch her eyes dilate as her chest begins to rise and fall. “You’re telling me, I can do all that without fear of interruption. I can have my fill of my Omega and no one can stop me tonight?”

I watch her swallow and squirm a bit. “Yes, Alpha. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Don’t you want your meal first?”

I just chuckle and pull my chair closer to the table. “Oh Sugar. I’ve got my first course right here and I plan on licking it clean.” I dive in and drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit, gently sucking the little bundle before pulling back, spreading her lips and thoroughly enjoying every last drop of her essence I can capture on my tongue. I don’t plan on wasting one single minute of us finally having some true time alone.

Every whimper and moan she lets out, only eggs me on more. Only thing on my mind is reminding my sweet little Omega why I’m her big bad Alpha.

The following morning…

Sunlight drifts in through the stained glass window across from your bed, bathing the room in a rainbow hue, rousing you to an oddly quiet home. As you slowly open your eyes, they happen upon a pair of cerulean ones gazing back at you. “Still trying to make sure I’m not going anywhere Captain? I thought you got over the whole creepy watching me while I sleep thing.” You groan out, attempting to tuck yourself in further.

He just chuckles to himself, shakes his head and pulls you closer to his furry chest, kissing your forehead. “Never Sunshine. I’ll never get tired of looking at the woman that I stupidly almost let get away.”

“I’m glad we both came to our senses before my mom tried to intervene. I don’t even want to imagine what that plan would have been like.” Smiling sweetly at each other, you enjoy the lazy morning vibes, running fingers through sex romped hair, caressing any exposed skin that escaped the one sheet that is covering you both.

The temperature in the room begins to rise the longer your fingers trek across flesh. At some point your lips find themselves tangled in a sensual makeout session. Sy rolls over further onto his back, pulling you with him to lay your body against his large naked frame.

He starts to skim kisses down your neck, nipping here and there. “Omega. I kind of have a situation here that only you can fix.” He lifts his hips for you to fully feel his ‘situation’. “Imma need ta bury my cock in this tight little pussy and watch you ride me until the situation subsides.”

“Is that so Alpha?” You raise up into a seated position against his abs, reaching behind you to wrap your little fingers around his thick girth. “It does in fact seem like a very hard situation. It would be my pleasure to assist you.” You lift your hips up, canting them back until his bulbous head just kisses your weeping entrance.

With slow, controlled movements, you lower yourself down his length to the hilt. You give a cursory grind, eliciting a moan to escape as the coarse hair along his pelvis stimulates your clit. You take your Alphas hands and place them on your hips as you begin a languorous pace, completely giving yourself over to the sensations of lazy morning sex that you’ve been without for so long.

Morning quickies in the shower have been more your speed as of the last few years. Although they scratch the itch, it’s nice to be able to just slow down and enjoy each other’s bodies without a time limit. So many things have changed over the past 13 years, your body seeing the most of it. Children, though blessings, really do take a toll on one's body.

You look down at the still broad, but maybe a little softer round the middle, body of your Alpha, running your fingers through his soft tuft of chest hair as you take what you need from him. His ocean eyes stare back at you with so much love that you almost lose your breath.

He rises from the mattress, pulling you in close, so that your chests rise and fall together, as your hands roam and your lips dance a familiar tango. You have no idea how long you remain locked in that tight sensual embrace of flesh and lust, before the tell tale signs of an impending orgasm creep up on you.

“Close.” You whimper out, clutching tighter to his shoulders. “Alpha, I’m so close.”

You feel his hands grip your hips, increasing the speed you are riding him. “That’s it ‘mega. Give it to me. Drench my cock so I can fill you up with my knot." He trails kisses along your collarbone, making his way to your claiming mark. "Gonna stuff you so full you'll be leaking out the sides.”

The combination of friction against your swollen nub mixed with the hot wet sensation of Sy's lips leaving open mouthed kisses along your overheated skin was the perfect catalyst for you to succumb to the mind numbing full body orgasm that had been slowly building.

You closed your eyes and rode each wave as they ebbed and flowed. A cacophony of mewls and wails, accompanied by your Alpha's name, exclaimed from your now hoarse throat.

Allowing your body to guide you, your lips find space along the juncture between your Alphas throat and shoulder, leaving a mark of your own for all to see.

The feel of your luscious mouth clamping down on his flesh is the thing that pushes him over the edge. With a deep growl, you are impaled on his knot, tying you in place as he sinks his own fangs into your supple flesh. Drawing blood as he reclaims his mate.

You can feel each twitch of his cock as he spills inside of you, filling you to the brim like he promised. Softly withdrawing from your collar, he licks along your freshly marred skin, aiding in its healing.

Eyes glazed over, as you both revel in your post orgasmic highs, you can't help but run your fingers along his beard as you admire the Alpha you once thought you'd never get to have. Thankful that you both came to your senses when you did and how lucky you are to have a great man like him in your life.

Sy caresses your back as he looks up at you with a brow raised. "What's that far off look for Sunshine?"

You can't help the beaming smile that plasters itself on your face. "I love you. That's all."

"Love you too Sugar." He pulls you down for a kiss as he lowers himself back down to the bed, keeping you laid across his chest.

You remain, locked together, basking in the quiet afterglow when your phone begins to ring on the nightstand. Sy reaches over and hands it to you. You watch Letis' name flash across the screen before you place it on speaker. You don't even get to utter a hello before she's speaking.

“Glad you survived all that pent up tension. We better not see you until dinner at your mom’s tomorrow night. Kit told me to tell you that she decided that her, Scotty and Kaylee need another day and night of cousin time. Also your mother is coming over today to teach them how to make her homemade ice cream and apple pie. So enjoy another night of freedom.”

Before you can answer, Sy snatches your phone. "Thanks Leti! See ya tomorrow at dinner." He hangs up your phone and tosses it aside. "Oh you're in for it now Omega. Only time you're leaving this bed is for a bathroom break. I have lots of lost time to make up for."

With a smack on the ass and a deep growl you feel him harden inside you. "As soon as my knot deflates your going to my good little omega and present for me."

The next afternoon…

Fresh from a nice, long, uninterrupted soak you find yourself gazing out the window as you let your mind wander. Unbeknownst to you, the gaze of your Alpha, leaning against the door frame, is set firmly on you as he takes in your relaxed state.

I haven’t seen her this relaxed in years. I can't have that. Gotta find the time to make sure she gets to reset and recharge more often.

Your solitude is broken by a smooth baritone. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you in my flannel. Looks far better on you than me.”

“I beg to differ, Captain. I love the way the fabric stretches across your chest. Buttons holding on for dear life. It’s quite the sight.” You chuckle as you turn towards him. “I keep waiting for the day when one finally fails and exposes the expanse beneath.”

He strides towards you, a swagger in his step. “Your sweet little words are about to get you tossed back into that king size bed.” He grins and lifts you up into his arms. “But I know how much you miss the little monsters and your mother would kill me if I made you miss dinner. Learned my lesson the one and only time that happened.”

“Should have known better. Didn’t think you’d ever be on the receiving end like that huh?” You belly laugh. “She’s scary when she wants to be.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, let’s get dressed.” He walks you both into the closest to put proper clothes on. “It’s too quiet round here. It was nice to have you to myself but I have to admit I kind of miss the chaos.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God, me too! Let’s go get our babies.”

Your mother’s house…

You’ve barely walked through the back gate before a squeal rings out. “Mama! Papa! Help!” Kaylee comes barreling towards you as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Unca ‘Te Dragon!” As if on queue your brother bounds around the corner, making his way over to you all. A roaring battle cry is heard before your two eldest, Kit and Scott, attack him from both sides, taking him down in one fell swoop.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you, Dante the Black.” Your daughter proclaims. “We brave adventurers shall protect the princess at any cost. Including ridding a Dragon of his head.” She mimicked slashing one's throat.

Kaylee, now saved, strolls over to her siblings. “Tank you for saving me.” She bows. “Ook. Mama and Papa are here!” Three sets of eyes turn toward you, mischievous smiles affixed to their chubby cheeks.

“What’s with the smiles?” You inquire. “My children aren't this sweet.”

“Nothing.” They say in unison.

“Mmhmm.” You hum. “Come on. Let’s go see if it's time to eat. I’m starving.”

Your mother greets you with a tight hug, holding you at shoulder length to look you over. “Good.”

“Good?” You look to your husband, who also seems confused.

“Yes, good.” She nods her head. “You look thoroughly taken care of. You’re practically glowing. I’m sure if you hadn’t had your tubes tied we’d be welcoming a new pup to the family in 9 months.” She turns and walks toward the kitchen as you stare off, mouth agape. “Boys, put those muscles to good use and help me bring out supper.”

“Yes ma’am” They both say in unison. Before he heads off to do his task, Sy gives you a squeeze and leaves a kiss behind your ear. “She’s not wrong. Fucked out and relaxed looks great on you.” He gives you ass a little tap, walking off to assist Dante, with some extra swagger in his step.

You're wrangling Kaylee into her booster seat, so she can eat with the ‘big people’. “Mama, why yo neck got wed spots? You hurt?” You look down at your observant little one. “No baby. Mama’s not hurt.”

Your mother enters the room followed swiftly by Dante and Sy. “That’s right Leelee. Your Mama is perfectly fine. Your Papa made those to show how much he loves her.” You give her a look of disbelief as all the adults bust out in laughter.

Kaylee does not understand what’s so funny. “No funny. No laugh at Mama.” She chastises them, turning to her dad. “Papa. Want wed spots too?”

You all try your hardest to hold in the laughter as to not provoke the tiny terror. “Sorry, sugarplum. Those are special marks for Mama’s and Papa’s only.” She pouts. “How bout I let you have an extra scoop of that ice cream ya’ll made to prove how much I love you instead.”

Her face lights up at the prospect of more sugar. “Okay Papa. We good. Love you.”

You shake your head at your husband as you all sit down to eat. “Oh man are you in for it when she hits puberty. You got lucky with how easy going Kit is. Kaylee is going to run circles around you.”

“Well she is a mini you. I think I can handle it just fine.” He smugly states. “I did survive growing up around you after all. Hey Scotty, toss your Papa one of them rolls will ya.”

You run your hand along his thigh under the table, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “You’re lucky I love you so much. Otherwise I’d make you embarrass yourself at this table in front of your kids.”

You ignore his low growl as you fix a plate for Kaylee and yourself. With the look he’s subtly throwing your way, you know may be in for it later, once the kids are off to bed, and you can’t wait.

#poc reader #alpha captain syverson #omega reader #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson x you #captain syverson fic #captain syverson x reader

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