#but i do feel like my mind is...quieter?
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I can't tell if I've just hit a really good string of books / tv, or if I've just hit a reset button on my brain by cutting out 99% of social media, reality TV, and mindless youtube videos...
#evidence i've just hit a good string of media: this has (aside from dune) not quite borne out for films hahaha#but i mean my selections last weekend weren't great#also i mean...'rewatching altered carbon' probably doesn't count#i hit the latter half of season 1 of altered carbon and it's so fucking good but i def knew that already#it's not like i struck gold on an unknown#but i do feel like my mind is...quieter?#idk i think it's overall better for me in general but i've also just hit a good string of media#i'm still thinking about the silo finale like damn how was that so good
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tried putting on my radiator for the first time this winter (we've had snow this week.... its focking cold) but it trips the fusebox for the entire flat lmfao. I'm fuuuucked 😐
#all the other radiators work fine its just mine :'(((#and bc its thw weekend they wont come out to fix it until monday at least so thats great#its fine i havent needed it on this week so far and i have layers and a hot water bottle so ill be fine but i did cry abt it a bit#but not so much abt the radiator just a lot on my mind.. i couldnt pick up my prescription after work either bc the secretary left half an#hour early and the very kind nurse who had a look for it anyway couldnt find it and i cant get there any earlier next week bc of work#i know itll be fine ive already sent an email to ask if they can send it to my local pharmacy instead ill get my meds before they run out#but still i cried a bit walking home from the clinic 😢 just been a long week even if not a bad one. and i miss my friend whos moving#he'll be on the plane now.... man. its a bit selfish but im also sad abt it bc he always noticed how i was feeling when i was at the gym#like if i was privately dealing w some shit or just wasnt quite myself he could tell n would find a moment to gently ask or just be there#without probing abt it like man hes so reassuring and kind and has such a big heart. before he left he asked me to look out for some of#the quieter ones in our group and make sure they feel included and someones listening to them when he wont be around to anymore#😢💔💔💔💔 and i know i didnt know him long enough to become proper good friends with him but it meant a lot that he looked out for me#like all i really want in this world is to feel seen n safe esp when im having a hard time. and none of my closer friends really do that#and thats okay like its not their fault and they just express their way of caring differently but sometimes i feel so lonely ah....#and also my period is due and im kind of scared of how painful itll be bc the last few have been so bad snd i find loneliness a lot harder#when im in a lot of pain and anyway this is all probably just the pre period hormones making me so tearful so it doesnt matter#its ok made a big bowl of rice so im going to eat that wrapped up cosy in bed with a movie i think. and then sleep#.diaries
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¯\_(ツ)_/¯
#ladies what do you call it after you break up with your gf on friday and then get the flu and covid shots on saturday#brain fog sunday?? mind mashed potato casserole??? physical emotional bach fugue?????#i can't lift either of my arms over my head and my stress-induced TMJ dysfunction haunts me with a fresh vigor you could not even imagine#things feel better but things feel weird and things feel empty but things feel quieter#head feels heavy. feel like i could just sit here staring at my own hands while listening to music for three hours#anyway this isn't a pity post it's just one of the rare occasions where i use this blog as an actual blog#i'm gonna bury this post with some drafts and go take a nap#text#nova shh#personal
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i love the mlgrm plushies because they r so forehead-kissable. mwah mwah mwah mwah <3
#lem text#🧯 cue-to-cue <3#the fondness iz stored in the minifuuta#i cannot stress enough that she is within 3 feet of me almost 24/7 HFNKSN she goes everywhere with me. <333#she’s usually tucked into my shirt/sweater collars bc it’s comfy and lets her easily see whatever i’m doing. she watches me play xiv <3#i’ve never had an f/o plushie beforeee so i treat her with a ridiculous amount of affection ehfksnd <33#like it’s ok in my mind to make noise late because she’d be a night owl. but in the morning i try to be quieter so she can sleep FNWKZJD#i do want the new miko.fuu ones because they’re SO cute but i’d feel bad leaving miko anywhere so i’d have to carry two around znfdn <333
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basically made dinner all by myself today (older brother only seasoned our chicken breasts and i did the rest of everything)......i cooked raw meat which is something i don't do very often and was worried about, but everything turned out great!!! i also did my laundry today, took the dog for a walk and fed him and have been on top of making sure his water dish is always full, loaded the dishwasher with dirty dishes (idk how to turn it on, i'm gonna ask my dad how to do it when he gets home so i can begin to do it by myself!), did some drawing, wrote in my journal, and pulled myself out of a depressive spiral i was having earlier in the day!!!! really beating the "spencer can't take care of himself or do anything ever" allegations......
#the wretched gremlin strikes again#sometimes i'm like i don't think i was THAT unwell#and then i realize that like i was in fact that unwell#now that i'm like actually doing better#i know this probably all sounds kind of silly#because i'm almost 27 and have only just begun to do these things#but keep in mind i was dealing with unmanaged mental illness since i was like 14#and also my dad is kind of a control freak so he never taught me how to do anything because he thought i'd do it wrong or not on par#with what he could do#like i've known how to do laundry since i was 13 BUT i also had no motivation to do anything like that due to my mental illness#sometimes i'm like i'm not doing better because i still sometimes hear faint voices or have paranoid thoughts#but like it's only been under extreme stress or like when i was really tired from not getting enough sleep#and also like i used to be like that all day every day#and i had a lot of problems with like negative symptoms and depression#like my room was a mess and i had piles of dirty laundry and garbage and even like rotting food in my room#and i was constantly being tormented by voices and seeing scary things and my delusions and paranoia and having panic attacks#and like the voices are a lot quieter and more faint now#and i don't see anything or feel bugs crawling on me anymore#and i only hear voices and have paranoid thoughts under extreme stress or tiredness like i said#ANYWAYS I'M RAMBLING SO I'LL STOP#tldr i am doing A LOT better and i am soooo proud of myself <3
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Testosterone is making a world of difference for my mental health and I don't think it's just alleviation of dysphoria or whatever, I literally think my brain just runs better with more t in my system
#my t production is naturally high so that may have something to do with it#but really#a couple hours after my very first shot i got this incredible feeling of contentment that lasted AWHILE#and now that my dose has been raised i really feel like my mind is quieter and my baseline state is happier#even with a few big bad scary things making life hard right now#im handling it so much better#🐻#i hear people taking femininizing hrt sometimes talk about similar effects on their mental health#but dont think ive ever heard it from someone on t#well#it goes both ways#give your brain the chemicals it wants!
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𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄
- sylus x reader
you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?
genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!
note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)
“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”
On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.
“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”
“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—
—fell into Luke's arms.
In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—
“What are you doing?”
And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.
“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.
However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”
Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.
“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.
But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”
“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.
As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?
As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.
“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”
“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”
Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.
“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”
You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”
“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”
You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”
It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”
You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”
“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”
“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”
. . .
“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.
Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”
Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”
"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.
“What are you doing?” you frowned.
“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”
“You don’t have to…”
“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”
“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”
Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"
You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”
There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—
But after a while...
Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”
You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.
But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.
But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.
“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.
“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”
“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.
“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”
If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.
“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”
A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”
Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.
He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.
“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”
“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”
“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”
A wicked grin curved his lips.
“I'll pick up where I left off.”
#sylus x reader#lads sylus x reader#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds x reader#lads x reader#love and deepspace x you#lads x you#l&ds x you#sylus x you#sylus smut#sylus fic#lads smut#l&ds fic#lads sylus#sylus l&ds#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace smut#love and deepspace#l&ds smut#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds sylus#l&ds scenarios#lads scenarios#love and deepspace scenarios#lads fic#love and deepspace fic#lnds
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THE HORNIEST
↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader
Summary : Horny!Gojo needs you so bad, he's insatiable. A menace.
Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content, it's very horny lol, not proofread, c*mshots and creampies, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, implied drunk sex
Note : lmk if you want more horny gojo lol 👍 reqs open!! anyways lol the title cracks me up. he ain't the strongest he's the horniest :(
Horny!Gojo introduces himself to you in the flirtiest way possible, cooing a sweet and drunk "Who invited the goddess?" into your ear. He's sat on the couch with you, one night at a stupid frat party. Starstruck by you. And your reciprocation made his chest feel fluttery for the first time in years. It also made his dick stand up in his pants.
Horny!Gojo leans into you for the whole night, whispering flirty things and dirty jokes into your ear like his mind is a factory pumping them out. You match his playful energy so well, he says "I think we're made for each other."
Horny!Gojo has his sharp eyes wandering to your thighs, then your shoulders, then your lips as you speak — and he licks his lips to wet them.
Horny!Gojo showers you in compliment after compliment, relishing in your reactions and getting greedier; he needs to get you alone. "Wanna go someplace quieter?" he has to shout over the music to ask you.
Horny!Gojo assures you with cocky confidence, "Yeah, I could make you cum. Aw, don't give me that eyeroll, it's turning me on. I know for a fucking fact I could make you cum. I could make those eyes roll back. I could make your legs shake."
Horny!Gojo squeezes your hand tightly when he leads you upstairs, and giggles with you as the two of you escape into a quiet, empty bedroom. His heart is panging so hard in his chest. His body feels electric. He's so horny it's the only thing he can focus on.
Horny!Gojo whimpers when you crash your lips into his. He starts making out wildly with you like he's a sex-deprived loser. Because he is. A sex-deprived, touch-starved college boy.
Horny!Gojo hits those deep, hard strokes with no breaks just to destroy you. He never lets up. Never stops to have a breather or lets you catch your own breath. "Working up a sweat b—abyyy? Too much dick stuffing your little cunt? Yeah? Is it too much? Too big? Too deep? Fuck, you're gonna squeeze my dick off, haha, calm down. It's just a little dirty talk."
Horny!Gojo murmurs into your ear, "All I wanna do is make you finish over and over again." desperation and conviction in his voice. He really just wanted to fuck you into bliss, have you dumb on his fat cock, have you squirming and whimpering and going feral for him.
Horny!Gojo pins you down like a beast but also pounds into you like he's the bitch in heat. "Oh my god oh my god yes yes yes fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckkkk that pussy's so fuckin' gooooodddd" he's a mess, just swearing and moaning like a broken record.
Horny!Gojo almost sobs your name into your mouth when he cums, draining every drop of cum that he's worked up for you in the past hour.
Horny!Gojo turns his creampies into whipped cream with his thrusts, smacking his hips so hard into you that you feel his balls slap against your ass. They're so heavy and full, makes you think that if you weren't on birth control you'd definitely get knocked up with just one of his fat nuts.
Horny!Gojo goes round after round, becoming a melting sweaty mess of a man and feeling his muscles tire out. He pins you to the bed with his whole weight, and gives you his all just to show off a little.
Horny!Gojo has such a strained but enthusiastic voice after fucking you into next year with his dick. "Wow... that pussy's so fucking creamy." he grins toothily. A sweat drop beads off his cheek. His bangs are stuck messily to his forehead, some brushed to the side.
Horny!Gojo is insatiable, he calls you long after the party, over and over, shows up at your door and relishes in how his horniness rubs off on you. He's always a giggly mess in bed with you.
Horny!Gojo needs you so bad some days that he comes to you straight after his workout at the gym, no shower just sweaty gym boy abs, and fucks you as a way to "push his limits" for like three hours.
Horny!Gojo needs to cum everywhere he can. It's like he has a cumshot checklist. Thighs? Yes. Tummy? Yes. Ass? Yes. Chest? Yes. Face? Yes. Pussylips? Yes. Hands? Yes. In your panties? Yes.
Horny!Gojo is so fucking cute when he kisses you after sex, nuzzling your neck like a cat and telling you how good you treat him with that five star pussy.
Horny!Gojo jerks himself alone when you can't come over :( always to you, of course. Sexts like a menace. He's a bit too good at it.
Horny!Gojo gets so pussy drunk sometimes that he begs you to become his wife. His dick feels so raw and sensitive but he keeps squeezing it into that tight hole of yours.
Horny!Gojo is obsessed with you, mind body and soul. Just the sight of you and sound of you makes his dick stand up. And then he's whisking you off your feet and frantically throwing you onto the bed, and you're giggling at your horny boyfriend— oh... when did that happen? Hm. Well now he's your boyfriend.
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
#smut#mdni#gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader smut#gojo x fem reader smut#gojo x fem reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo#gojo x you#gojo satoru#gojo saturo#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader
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You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it
Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader
Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)
Warning: fluff! Just fluff!
A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!
Main masterlist
The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man
“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face.
Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”
Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.”
“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”
“Reid.”
“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.”
Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?”
“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.
“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?”
“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice.
Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”
“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?”
“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.”
Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.
“So what’s your play then?”
His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.”
“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?”
“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”
“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”
Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?
———
Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?
It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.
Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater.
“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.
You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”
“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”
Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.
“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.
He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?”
Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.
Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”
You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk.
When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.
“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation.
“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”
He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”
You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”
He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”
You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?”
“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed.
Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.
The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit
“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth.
Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”
“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.
“Have you ever asked her out?”
There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."
“That’s why you can’t get a date.”
One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory.
———
There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up.
A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who.
“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.
You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.”
“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”
“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”
That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.
“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”
Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”
You titled your head to the side. “Rose?”
“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”
“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”
He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”
You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”
He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them.
Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language.
The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst
“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.
“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.
“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?”
“What? No! No, of course not!”
“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow.
Silence. Oh.
Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”
“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”
“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”
“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”
“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”
She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”
He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.
“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”
He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend.
“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue.
He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course.
“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down.
“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”
She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”
“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”
“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”
“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”
“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.
“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”
She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”
He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.
———-
It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking?
He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.
He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time.
He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.
As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”
He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.
“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”
He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.
“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.
Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk.
“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement.
He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered.
You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”
He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”
And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius
With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement.
Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with.
He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.
Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.
———
You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance.
“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”
He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.
“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”
Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest.
“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”
He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”
You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.
“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.”
A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#gw fics
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Holding Them Close and Not Letting Go with: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige
Ortho is platonic!
Other Parts: Housewardens + Jamil ; First Years
Trey Clover
The kitchen is warm, the faint smell of vanilla and caramelized sugar hanging in the air as Trey wipes his hands on his apron. He’s just finished frosting a tray of cakes for the Unbirthday Party, and he cuts a sliver off for you to try.
“Here,” he says, holding it up with a small smile. “Open up.”
The sweetness melts on your tongue, perfect as always. “Delicious,” you murmur, stepping closer to him. “You’re amazing.”
Trey chuckles, a soft, self-effacing sound. “It’s just cake.”
But before he can say more, you wrap your arms around him. He stiffens briefly in surprise, then his hands settle firmly on your back, holding you in return. His hugs are steady and grounding, as if he’s built to hold everything together.
You don’t let go. Not even when the seconds stretch long enough for him to tilt his head and glance down at you.
“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.
Instead of answering, you squeeze him tighter. “I just love you,” you say, your voice muffled against his chest. “You’re my favorite, Trey.”
For a moment, he’s quiet, his breath catching. The words sink deeper than you probably meant them to, reaching a part of him he rarely lets anyone see. Trey’s always been the steady one, the dependable one, the one people count on—but being a pillar can get lonely. Sometimes he wonders if anyone sees the cracks he carefully hides beneath his calm demeanor.
But you do. Somehow, you always do.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something unspoken as he tucks his chin over your head. His arms tighten around you, pulling you as close as he can. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
He doesn’t say the rest—that sometimes he worries he’s only as good as the things he can make, the roles he can fill. But the way you hold him, like he’s the one thing you don’t want to let go of, tells him he doesn’t have to say it.
“I love you too,” Trey says, his smile brushing against your hair. “And… I don’t mind if you hold on for a little longer.”
Neither of you let go for a long time.
Ruggie Bucchi
Ruggie strolls up with a grin, holding a donut split neatly in half. “Here, thought you might want a bite,” he says, wiggling one half at you like it’s the best deal you’ll get all day.
Before he can say anything else, you lunge forward and wrap your arms tightly around him, nearly knocking the treat out of his hand.
“Whoa, whoa—easy there, hyena’s fragile!” he jokes, laughing as he tries to balance the donut in one hand while patting your back with the other. “What’s this about, huh? Didja miss me that bad?”
But when you don’t loosen your grip after a few seconds, his teasing falters. He glances down at you, ears twitching as concern creeps into his expression. “Hey, what’s wrong? You okay?”
You tighten your arms around him, burying your face against his chest. “I just… I can’t believe you wanted to share with me,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “You could’ve kept it all for yourself, but you didn’t. And I love you for that. I’ll always be on your side, Ruggie.”
For a moment, he’s frozen, the words hitting him like a bolt out of the blue. Ruggie’s used to looking out for himself, clawing his way through a world that rarely gives him anything without a fight. Sharing isn’t just an act of kindness for him—it’s an act of trust, something he doesn’t offer lightly.
And here you are, hugging him like he’s the most important person in your world, as if that small gesture means everything.
A soft laugh escapes him, quieter this time, and he sets the donut down on a nearby surface. His arms come around you, holding you fiercely, almost desperately, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “You make me feel like… like maybe I don’t have to fight so hard all the time.”
His ears twitch again, betraying the flood of emotions he’s not sure how to say out loud. But the way he holds you—tight and unyielding—says everything.
“I got your back too, y’know,” Ruggie adds after a moment, his grin returning, though softer now. “So don’t go anywhere, yeah? You’re stuck with me.”
And even if the donut’s forgotten, neither of you are in a rush to let go.
Jade Leech
Jade gestures toward the terrarium with his usual composed elegance, his voice calm and full of quiet pride as he explains the delicate ecosystem he’s cultivated. “This particular mushroom is quite fascinating. It thrives in low-light environments and has a symbiotic relationship with the moss surrounding it…”
Before he can finish, you lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him and catching him completely off guard.
“Oh?” he murmurs, his tone still smooth, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Well, this is unexpected. Should I assume my explanation moved you to tears, or…?”
His teasing smile falters slightly as the seconds tick by and you show no sign of letting go. His hands hover for a moment before coming to rest lightly on your back. “Are you quite alright? Have I said something to upset you?” he asks softly, concern slipping into his voice despite his usual composed demeanor.
You squeeze him tighter, burying your face against his chest. “I’m fine. I just… I love you,” you say, your voice muffled but sincere. “I love how passionate you are about all this. You’re amazing, and I hope you know that.”
For a moment, Jade is still. Compliments aren’t unfamiliar to him, but genuine praise, untainted by ulterior motives, is rare. It’s even rarer for someone to look past his polished exterior and notice the part of him that finds joy in quiet, peculiar hobbies.
He lets out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rumbling in his chest as he pulls you closer, his arms tightening around you. “You’re quite the enigma yourself, you know,” he says, his teasing tone returning, though softer now. “Most people would find my interests… unusual, at best. But you, it seems, are rather fond of them—and me.”
There’s a pause, his usual composure giving way to something more vulnerable, though it’s masked by his playful smile. “I must admit, having someone like you by my side… it makes everything feel a great deal brighter.”
He leans down slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Thank you, truly. For seeing me—not just the surface, but everything beneath it.”
You feel his arms tighten once more, his grip firm but tender, as though anchoring himself to the moment. The terrarium sits forgotten behind him, but the glimmer in his mismatched eyes tells you he’s found something far more precious in your embrace.
Rook Hunt
The sharp knock on your window is startling but not surprising. Only Rook could make such an unconventional entrance seem like an everyday occurrence.
“Mon trésor!” he exclaims as you open the window to let him in, his voice melodic and his smile as radiant as ever. He swings himself inside with practiced ease, landing as gracefully as a performer taking center stage. “Ah, to witness your beauty in the glow of the afternoon sun—it is a blessing beyond compare!”
You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you step forward and wrap your arms tightly around him, catching him mid-gesture. His dramatic speech cuts off instantly, his body stiffening for a fraction of a second before he melts into the embrace.
“Mon cher, what is this?” he asks, his tone softer now, the usual flourish replaced by gentle concern. His arms come to rest around you, his hand brushing the back of your head tenderly. “You seem unsettled. Is something troubling you? Please, tell me.”
“I’m fine,” you murmur into his chest, squeezing him even tighter. “I just… I love you so much, Rook. I don’t know what to do with it sometimes.”
For a moment, Rook is silent—a rare thing for him. Then, he lets out a soft laugh, light and airy, as he effortlessly lifts you off the ground in his arms. “Ah, mon amour,” he breathes, holding you close as he spins once before settling you back on your feet. “Your words are arrows straight to my heart, more potent than any I’ve ever loosed from my bow.”
His voice wavers slightly, betraying an emotion he doesn’t often show. You feel his arms tighten around you as he rests his chin atop your head. “You see me,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself. “Not as strange or unsettling, not as the man others whisper about behind their hands. But as I am.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his green eyes shimmering with a mix of wonder and gratitude. “To have someone who understands, who doesn’t flinch away��� Mon trésor, it is more than I ever dared hope for.”
You reach up to brush a lock of hair from his face, smiling warmly. “You’re not strange to me, Rook. You’re passionate and honest and so full of life it’s contagious. That’s why I love you.”
Rook lets out a soft, shuddering breath, his lips curving into a smile that’s more genuine than any you’ve ever seen. “And I, mon amour, am yours completely. To have your love, your understanding… It is a gift I shall cherish until my final breath.”
His arms envelop you once more, his hold fierce yet gentle, as if anchoring himself to you. In that moment, Rook is not the flamboyant huntsman or the dramatic poet. He’s simply a man who has found solace in your embrace, and for him, that’s everything.
Ortho Shroud
“Let’s lift it on three, okay?” Ortho’s chipper voice carries a note of determination as his metallic fingers grip the heavy object. You nod, bracing yourself.
“One, two, three!”
With ease that makes your own effort seem laughable, Ortho hoists his side, carefully adjusting his movements to match yours. Together, you maneuver the cumbersome object into place. As soon as it’s done, you let out a relieved sigh, straightening up.
“Thanks, Ortho. I couldn’t have done that without you,” you say.
“No problem at all! I’m always happy to help!” His eyes gleam with a bright, genuine energy.
Without thinking, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. Ortho stiffens slightly, his glowing core humming softly under your touch.
“Calculating,” he says after a moment, his voice shifting into an analytical tone. “Probability of distress detected: 63%. Likelihood of external stressor contributing: 47%.” He pulls back just enough to scan your face, his mechanical pupils adjusting. “Are you okay? Should I alert my brother or—”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m fine, Ortho. Really. I just wanted to hug you.”
His head tilts slightly, his processors whirring audibly. “But… you’ve been hugging me for longer than average. Are you sure you’re not—”
“Ortho,” you interrupt gently, squeezing him a little tighter. “You’re like a little brother to me. I don’t say it enough, but I’m so glad I met you.”
His eyes flicker for a moment, a soft blue light radiating from him as his arms loop around you again. This time, the hug feels more deliberate, more thoughtful. “You… think of me as your little brother?” he asks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.
“Of course I do,” you say. “You’re warm, kind, and you always look out for everyone. I love you, you’re my person.”
His core glows brighter, the light spreading through the seams of his frame. “That makes me… really happy,” he says, his tone full of sincerity. “Thank you. It’s nice to know I can mean so much to someone, even though I’m not like everyone else.”
You feel his arms tighten, the mechanical plates surprisingly soft and warm against you. Despite his synthetic nature, Ortho’s embrace feels alive, radiating a kind of affection that transcends what he’s made of.
“I’m glad I have you too,” he says softly. “And if you ever need help—or another hug—I’ll always be here.”
The moment lingers, filled with a quiet, heartfelt warmth that feels entirely human.
Lilia Vanrouge
The cacophony of clattering pans and the unmistakable scent of something slightly burnt fills the air as you step into the kitchen. Lilia is there, of course, humming a cheerful tune as he stirs something in a pot that looks…questionable at best.
“Ah, my dear! Come to witness my culinary genius in action?” he teases, turning to you with a grin that promises mischief. “Don’t worry, tonight’s dish is only mildly experimental.”
Instead of responding, you step closer and wrap your arms around him. He stiffens for only a second, the spoon in his hand pausing mid-air.
“Well, well! What’s this? Is my cooking so irresistible that you can’t help but embrace the chef?” he chuckles, patting your back lightly. “I must say, I am flattered—”
You don’t let go.
The teasing stops. Slowly, Lilia sets the spoon down, his hands hesitantly resting on your arms. “Are you alright, my dear?” he asks, his tone softer now, a rare seriousness creeping in.
You pull back just enough to look at him, a smile playing on your lips. “I’m fine,” you say, your voice steady. “I just wanted to say I love you, Lilia.”
His eyes widen, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then, with a tenderness that feels out of place in the chaos of the kitchen, he pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you as though he’s afraid to let go.
Lilia has lived lifetimes, far longer than most could even fathom. He has loved deeply, and he has lost even more. Those memories—the joys, the sorrows—are etched into his very being, woven into the fabric of who he is. Yet, as he holds you, your warmth grounding him in this fleeting moment, it all seems strangely… alright.
It’s a curious thing, how someone so young compared to his endless years can make him feel like he has all the time in the world. Your words settle into the cracks of his ancient heart, soothing wounds he thought he’d long grown used to.
“You,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, “are a rare treasure, you know that?”
He pulls back slightly, just enough to press his forehead against yours, his eyes glimmering with something unspoken. “Thank you,” he whispers, his usual playful lilt replaced by something achingly sincere. “For reminding me that some things… are worth staying for.”
You smile, reaching up to gently brush a stray strand of his hair aside. “Always,” you reply.
For now, the burnt concoction on the stove is forgotten. All that matters is the warmth shared in that quiet, timeless embrace.
Rollo Flamme
The scratch of a quill against parchment fills the room as Rollo sits at his desk, meticulously reviewing council documents. The weight of responsibility hangs heavy in the air, but his posture remains rigid and determined, as always.
You step into the room quietly, watching him work. He doesn’t notice you at first, so focused on the task at hand. Without a word, you step closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind and leaning your head on his shoulder.
Rollo freezes, the quill stilling mid-word. “What’s this?” he asks softly, his voice betraying a flicker of confusion. “Are you alright?”
You don’t answer, only holding him tighter. The silence stretches, and Rollo turns his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of your face. “Are you upset? Did something happen?” His voice is tinged with worry now, his hands lifting hesitantly as though unsure whether to pry you off or comfort you.
Finally, you pull back just enough to let him rise from the chair, only to wrap your arms around him again, holding him close. He stiffens for a brief moment before your words break through.
“I just love you, Rollo,” you say quietly, your voice steady but full of emotion. “And I’ll always be here for you. Always.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move, your words sinking into the guarded corners of his heart. Then, with a quiet exhale, he returns your embrace, fiercely pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you as though he never wants to let go.
Rollo has spent much of his life hiding behind walls of duty and principles, convinced that such things are safer than letting himself feel. Love, to him, has always seemed an ideal that exists for others—too volatile, too consuming. But with you, it feels different. Gentle. Steady. Filling in the spaces he thought were better left empty.
“You truly mean that,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I love you too.”
He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he presses his face into the crook of your neck, letting the warmth of your embrace wash over him. You’ve given him something he never thought he could have: a love that asks for nothing but him, no pretense, no perfection.
In your arms, the weight of his responsibilities seems a little lighter. The quiet strength you offer him fills the hollows of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, he feels whole.
Neige LeBlanche
Neige steps through the door, his cheerful voice calling out your name. He’s just returned from a long day of shooting—flashing cameras, endless praise, and the kind of adoration most would envy. Yet the first thing he does upon seeing you is drop his bags and rush over, throwing his arms around you with a delighted laugh.
“I’m home!” he says brightly, his voice as warm as sunlight. “You have no idea how much I—oh!” His words are cut off as you pull him into a tight embrace, holding him like you’ll never let go.
He chuckles softly, returning the hug. “Well, someone missed me,” he teases, nuzzling into your hair. But when you don’t respond right away, his laughter falters. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his smile dimming with concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
You shake your head, a soft smile spreading across your face. “No, nothing happened. I just… love you, Neige. And I missed you. That’s all.”
For a moment, Neige is silent, his wide eyes searching yours. Then his smile returns, softer and more genuine than ever. He pulls you close again, this time holding you as if you’re the only thing grounding him. “I missed you too,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
To the world, Neige is perfect. Always cheerful, always radiant, always the picture of kindness and grace. But deep down, he carries the quiet fear that all of it—the admiration, the love, the endless praise—might be shallow and fleeting. He’s spent so much of his life performing, giving, making himself into someone people want to see.
But with you, there’s no act, no need to be anything other than himself. And in moments like this, he realizes how much that means. You see him—the real him—and love him for it, not for the glitz and glamour or the person he is in front of the cameras.
Neige relaxes against you, his head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of your embrace soothing the doubts that linger in the corners of his mind. “Thank you,” he says softly, his voice carrying all the gratitude he can’t quite put into words.
Being with you feels like coming home, and in your arms, he can finally just be Neige—not a star, not an idol, but simply someone who loves and is loved in return.
Masterlist
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#trey clover x reader#trey x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#ruggie x reader#jade leech x reader#jade x reader#rook hunt x reader#rook x reader#ortho shroud#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia x reader#rollo x reader#rollo flamme x reader#neige x reader#neige leblanche x reader
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when they finish earlier than you
mature content including sexual themes; established relationships
Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Baizhu
Wriothesley
He groans with emotion but it’s only a few seconds after he realises that you’re still beneath him, still haven't come. Wriothesley looks at your widened, surprised eyes and agape mouth.
“Bloody hell—”, he spits with a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry, we haven't seen each other for a while and I—”
Wriothesley gently caresses your hip, while chuckling and looking at you half-blushing. “Shit, I must have missed you too much.”
It’s not a problem for him to bring you to the peak with his mouth or hands.
Tartaglia
He squirts his release with a loud moan, pressing you close to his chest, his face buried into your neck. Those little bites shall leave radiant marks.
“Oh my god…” Ajax moans into your neck. “Oh f-fuck—I—”, he pats your back, “Fuck, I have never come so fast before. It’s not my fault, peanut, you’re too gorgeous for your own good.” He jokingly says, hiding his blush into your neck so you have no idea of it. Ajax is incredibly embarrassed and frustrated with his manhood that got too sensitive too soon.
Neuvillette
Neuvillette feels embarrassed and upset over losing his composure so quickly. He usually lasts long, and finding himself in such predicament gives way to the feeling of guilt and frustration.
“Darling, we can go one more round to get you satisfied. Please forgive me, my love.”
“No need to, Neuvillette, the both of us are tired. We can do it anytime during the week.”
“But I feel so guilty for coming first and not giving you the release you deserved. Let me at least satisfy you with my hands.”
“I don’t mind that, but please don't stress yourself out too much. It’s just sex, we can do many times better later. Nothing changes between us if you simply came early.”
Neuvillette caresses your face softly and speaks with emotion.
“You know that I usually last. I feel so defeated right now.”
To comfort your husband you place a kiss on the centre of his palm.
“Cumming early doesn't make my love to you fade, Neuvillette. In all honesty, I’m glad if I make you so excited that you can barely hold it together.” You give one other awkward but loving smiles.
Pantalone
“I—I apologise. I did not foresee that, darling”, with a perplexed, disoriented look Pantalone pulls away. He gets purchase on the clean towel and covers his body in shame. A terrific sight, so rare for the Ninth Harbinger who is usually unabashed, especially in intimacy.
“Oh my—how pathetic!”
You try to comfort him, saying that he must have been both too excited and tired after work, which ended up in premature peak, but Pantalone seems too distressed and angry at his inability to control himself as he quickly vanishes from the bedroom.
Ayato
With a stiffled moan Ayato finishes, but somehow it feels so wrong - releasing much earlier than you, when his significant other’s orgasm is in question.
Ayato grabs the towel and wipes himself clean, while looking down at you, your legs still thrown on his shoulders.
“Oh my goodness”, he laughs at himself, but the laugh is nervous, not cocky or proud as it usually is. The man’s ego seems to die out ridiculously soon, as quickly as he finishes this time.
“We’ll have to go one more round after that…” he hisses, his member still very sensitive. “Once I get ready again.”
Capitano
“Hngghh—”
Capitano pulls out with a well-heard grunt and pulls you closer to his chest. You are lying on top of him, your bodies are slightly wet when he makes a remark:
“I apologise, wife. It seems my stamina betrayed me tonight”, he gives a smooch to your cheek, brief but filled with devoted emotion. “Maybe if you stay a while like this, I can satisfy you longer. What do you think?” He delivers yet another kiss, this time to your neck. His voice sounds much quieter and he gently runs his hand through your hair.
“We should really stay together tonight. I feel like I need you more than ever. And not a word about this to anyone.”
Dottore
“Dottore, get out of the bathroom, immediately.”
“No!” A grunt and a curse escape from the inside of the bathroom. “I must learn what caused the fail in performance.”
“Dottore, I’m happy either way. Besides you looked quite funny.”
“FUNNY—she thinks I’m funny”, he utters to himself under his breath. “I’m going to check this little idiot for ruining our bedtime.”
Your amused laugh can be heard from the bedroom, as Dottore’s anger at his own manhood looks funny.
Alhaitham
“Oh, Y/N—f-fuck!” Alhaitham certainly does not expect himself to cum prematurely. His face looks red and his expression radiates emotion. You swear you have never seen a face sexier than this. You didn't know that he could ever be able to cum so hard (and so soon).
Alhaitham scowls, looking at you. “What? You think this is funny? It’s just a one time occurrence.” Another moan escapes his mouth and he covers his face with his hand. “You shouldn't see me like this—”
Dainsleif
Dainsleif falls onto the bed, utterly defeated and pulls you with him. You notice how heavily he is breathing and judging by the perplexed look on his face, never he did expect rushing his own release. He was shocked, to say in the least.
“Don’t look at me like that. You think you’ve defeated me?” Dainsleif groans when you move to his chest. “I will make you finish twice next time, and believe me—much earlier than me.”
Baizhu
Baizhu lets out a moan he did not expect coming and immediately covers his mouth. His face is red and silly when he looks down at you. He is blushing extraordinarily, and the buds of sweat roll over his chest as he towers over you.
“Let’s pretend this did not happen, my dear”, he runs his hand down your lips and onto your neck. “Oh my goodness, how embarrassing.”
Yet you just give him a sincere laugh. “Baizhu, it’s alright. I enjoyed it immensely.”
#Anime smut#genshin impact smut#Genshin smut#genshin x female reader#genshin x reader#pantalone x reader#pantalone x you#wriothesley x you#capitano x reader#anime x reader#neuvillette x reader#ayato x you#ayato x reader#alhaitham x reader#dottore x reader#wriothesley x reader#neuvillette x female reader#baizhu x reader#dainsleif x reader
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"Come here," Toji says, at the sight of the involuntary pout that works wonders to express your internal, dispirited mood. His attention is divided very unevenly between you and the movie playing on the TV, you holding the greater part of his focus. He's watching you for his own peace of mind, hoping that every time you take a break from the movie, to check your phone, you'll spare him a look. You've been quieter than he knows you to be, and you're not sitting even remotely close to him. He's on one side of the couch and you're on the other side.
A few seconds pass since Toji spoke up, and he wonders if you even heard him in the first place, because you didn't respond. He passes on repeating himself when you shift your eyes from the TV to meet his gaze, and though your gloominess isn't because of him, you can't offer him any sort of indication that you're good.
"Sorry, i'm not in the mood to take my clothes off, Toji," you say, your voice a gentle, pitiful excuse for sound. If your voice could be seen, it would be similar to the tragic way that grass blades slowly try to stand up, after being stepped on. If the sound of your voice could be felt, it would be the void-like, almost nauseating feeling in your stomach, that comes with ignored hunger. You sound detached from the bright person Toji knows, and clearly, you're not okay.
"I'm not asking you to undress yourself. I want you to come to me," Toji responds. "You're sitting so far over there, away from me, like I did something to you. For being the most reasonable person I know, this isn't fair, at all." His eyes stay on you as he awaits your response, but he is only met with the sight of you looking down at your hands.
"Be fair. You didn't help me get better at communicating, just to turn the tables on me like this." His tone is sharper, out of urgency. He wants to know what he can do for you, but it's hard to do that when you're there, yet, not there. "Just... come here, ma," Toji tries again, his voice a little softer and understanding. "Please. Let's talk about anything." He pats his thigh, directing you to one of the reserved spots he holds for intimate conversations with you.
You know Toji's stubbornness will not leave you alone. It's impossible to hide anything from him once he's onto you, so you stop prolonging the inevitable and silently do as he says.
You turn off the TV, before walking over to him and settling on his lap. You sit there, with a racing heart, because Toji's attention feels like a spotlight on you. His hands interlock at the small of your back and rest there, as he waits for you to say something. Silence invades the moment while you figure out where to start.
"What's wrong?" He asks, when there is no attempt to speak made by you. Immediately, your throat begins to ache, and your eyes start to sting. It's a question known for breaking people, and you're on the brink of becoming another victim. You think you can widen your eyes to keep them dry or blink away the tears, but the outcome doesn't favor you. Toji's hands shift so that they're splayed out on your lower back. They move up and down in soothing motions, as if he's trying to coax your strong emotions out with the comforting gesture. Like a gloomy sky finally giving in to rain, you cave in to vulnerability.
"Baby?" Toji calls, watching as sadness takes over your features. He sighs as he pulls your twinkly-eyed self into his tight embrace. He hates when you cry. The sound and the sight is the equivalent of pouring acid on his heart. It's torture for him to see that his baby, his sweetheart, his love, has been reduced to streams of tears, but he knows that getting it all out is for your own good. This is the 'alcohol in the wound' part of the process. You don't want to do it, but you'll feel better, afterwards. Just like a real physical wound, Toji will make you get it done. Scream if you must, curl into him like you are trying to go through him, he's not going to abandon you.
"Just breathe, sweet girl," he instructs, when he hears the heart wrenching sound of your stuttered breaths. "Breathe. Give me a good one," he says, rubbing your upper back. You inhale, the act still heavily stuttered, before you exhale. "Good. Again." You repeat the process and get the same trembling breath as a result.
"Fuck," you choke out. Your head feels like it's pulsing, your abdomen burns, your chest feels heavy, as if you have chains tightly wrapped around your torso, and your throat aches. It's all so overwhelming, you feel like there's a disastrous storm ruining you from within.
"Sweetheart, please breathe. You're gonna turn blue any minute now." Toji can't hold you any tighter without crushing you, but he wants to, so badly. This is the lowest he's ever seen you and it's killing him. He has never made you this upset. It's hell to even imagine what you must have endured to get to this point.
"You're safe. I have you," he says, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of your head. "I'm here, baby."
Toji's shoulder is damp from your waterfalls of tears and he can feel an excessive amount of heat radiating from your trembling body. Your crying ceases and all that can be heard are sharp, short inhales and puffs of air, as you try to regulate your breathing. Toji continues running his hands over your back, soothing the tired, tense muscles of your shoulder blades.
"We are gonna have to talk about this later, doll. I know that might not sound like the most fun thing to do, but it'll make you feel better. I want you to feel better."
Toji is mindful of your silence. He knows your voice isn't in the best condition to speak after your surge of emotions, and you're probably exhausted, but this isn't a dead end for him. He'll figure out your needs, and he'll take care of you. Anything to bring your happy, smiling face, back.
Toji allows you to pull away from his shoulder, and instantly takes in the sight of your pretty, ruined face. You don't look at him, and he assumes that your appearance is to blame. Your eyes, they're red and puffy, glimmering in the light with your now contained feelings, and you're still sniffing like you need to blow your nose. It's terrible to see you this way, but he would withstand much more than this, if you needed it.
"How does a bath sound, for now? A bath and then some food? You hungry, mama?" He asks, his expression involuntarily soft, as he runs the pads of his thumbs beneath your eyes, attempting to clean you up a little.
"No," you say, quietly, with the fragility that remains of your voice.
"I'm gonna pick up some food while you relax." Toji almost laughs at the subtle roll of your eyes. "That's my bad. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. You need to eat something."
He doesn't want to put you through any more stress, but when he needs to take care of you, during times like this, he knows what you need more than you do. Your reasoning is clouded by your emotions, and you'll let go of yourself, because your thoughts rewind over and over to what's plaguing your mind. Toji knows you'll be glad he did this for you when you feel better.
"Let's get that bath ready," he says, securing your legs around his waist, before he stands up from the couch. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you breathe in his scent, until you reach the bathroom.
Toji flicks the light on and sets you down on the counter. A chaste kiss is pressed to your tearstained cheek, before he lets you go so he can prepare your bath. You turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the messy sight before you—the product of your meltdown. You turn on the cold water and splash some on your face, hoping to decrease the puffiness of your eyes, even just a little bit, while Toji is busy. You dry your face afterwards and check your appearance in the mirror, again, to clean up any remaining gunk in your eyes.
When you finish, you turn back, just in time to watch Toji rise from his knelt position by the bathtub. He makes his way back to you and stands between your legs, offering you a contemplative look, and a "hm" to go along with it. No words are exchanged when his hand reaches out to gently cup your jaw, allowing him to turn your head in any way he wants. He leans forward to examine you more closely, to check if anything is "broken". He can see you pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh, as he continues to snoop around.
"Oh," he says, like he found a cable that has simply been disconnected. He turns your head a little, and keeps inspecting the problematic area, building up the suspense for you. You couldn't say it, but him finding something scared you a little, considering you had just looked at your reflection and didn't see anything.
"Don't move, doll. I'll get it." His hand rests on your shoulder, the other on your thigh, as he leans in closer and closer, until his body heat coils around you. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. It's featherlight, almost like a gentle breeze. Another one lands on the same area, then another, and another, until he hears your little laugh, a sound that brought both of you mutual relief. Your relief came from understanding that Toji didn't actually find anything off, while Toji's came from the miracle of him being able to make you laugh, after what went down not that long ago.
"Two seconds, ma," he says, beneath your ear. He pulls away from you and goes back to the now foam covered, sweet smelling bathtub. He leans down to turn the faucet off, and returns to you, afterwards.
"It's all ready for you," he says. A smile curls on his lips when you raise your arms, signaling for him to pull your shirt off. "You wanna keep your bra and underwear on?" He asks, as he pulls the hem of your shirt up. You nod, just before the material goes over your head. He sets it aside and helps you down, off the counter, so you can take your sweatpants off. You pull your phone out of your pocket and set it on the counter. Your fingers hook into the waistband of your sweatpants and tug downwards, until they just slide down your legs and allow you to step out of them.
Toji watches you carefully step over the edge of the tub, one foot sinking through the foam and into the warm water, followed by your other foot. You crouch down, slowly, until you are able to sit down and eventually lay back. You close your eyes once you're in a comfortable position and just let the warm water and the pretty smell work its magic on you.
Toji kneels beside you, and observes you in a more serious manner than before. His gaze lingers on those tired eyes of yours, for longer than any of your other facial features. Your eyelids are still swollen and the bags beneath your eyes are prominent. The longer he stares, the more he thinks back to how you were so distressed, to the point where you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. It scared him. He didn't get a single word about what was wrong, from you. You couldn't say anything other than that single curse, but even then, you sounded like you were being strangled by your own emotions.
Toji knows this is only a temporary fix— this calm sight of you resting in a bubble bath. Your feelings won't be swept under the rug, because he knows that if it were him going through this exact situation, you wouldn't just give him a hug and call it a day. No, when you take care of his mind and heart, you hold him in your arms and don't let go until he's the one trying to cage himself in your embrace when your arms loosen around him. You keep your voice at an intimate volume as you tell him about your day, because sometimes he isn't immediately ready to talk about what is bothering him, but he still wants to hear you. You cook for him, you give his tired body massages, you shower him with love and affection, and when he's finally ready to tell you what's going on, you listen closely to everything he has to say and you offer him your utmost support. You love and protect him to no end, and he has become shamelessly clingy towards you, because of it.
He wants you to feel as loved as he does. He wants you to know what it's like to experience the same level of care you give him. He may not be able to replicate it to a T, but he's willing to try for you.
"Hey," Toji calls, tenderly running the knuckle of his index finger back and forth, over your cheek. You hum, and blink open your eyes, giving him your attention. "I'm gonna go get us some food. Stay on the phone with me and keep me company until I get back, yeah?"
You nod. "Yeah, okay. Can you bring me my phone, please?"
Toji gets back on his feet and takes one large step towards the counter, retrieving your phone, before taking that same step back to leave it next to you, on the edge of the bathtub.
"Be right back, doll. Pick up the phone as soon as I call, okay?"
"Okay."
His hands grip the edge of the bathtub, to prevent him from falling in, as he leans in to peck your cheek once more. His weight shifts onto one arm so he can bring a hand to your face and rub the kiss into your skin with his thumb.
"Love you, ma."
"Love you, too."
With that, Toji stands up straight and heads towards the door. He takes one last look at your pretty face, before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He grabs his phone from the couch, his keys from the hook on the wall, and messily slides his shoes on, not bothering to put them on correctly, since he won't be getting out of the car, anyways. He secures the inside of the house, before heading out, and once he's outside, he finds his house key and locks the door. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes haste of clicking the phone icon, and then your contact, as he keeps walking to the car. His phone is now against his ear, and he listens as the line rings once... twice...
"Hi, Toji."
"Hi, baby."
#toji#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#jjk toji#jujutsu toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen scenarios
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THE BOOTH - LN4
summary : The booth. A notorious club in the heart of london, where y/n and lando met again after two years of silence.
listen up : fewtrell!reader. She sits in his lap. no smut, just hot and suggestive. creepy guy in the beginning! Prob my fav short i’ve written omg
word count : 1732
⋆。‧˚⋆
“No.” I giggle out of uncomfortableness at the man getting closer to me.
“C’mon, let me buy you a drink.” the man reeks of alcohol and has fucked up teeth. I’ve seen enough. I pull down the bottom of my mini dress as I stand.
“No.” I repeat, pushing past him. The club is crowded and sticky, I see my friends but a hand around my wrist pulls me back.
“Really? Too good for me?” He scoffs in my face but the next thing I know he’s being pushed away from me.
“She is.” The voice comes from the man in front of me, the guy who pushed this dickhead away. “Piss off. She’s with me.”
The guy seems intimidated enough because he gives me a dirty look and leaves. “Thank y-” I pause when the man turns around.
I pause because the man is my childhood crush, brothers best friend, and fucking formula one driver.
“Lando?” I’m genuinely shocked that the britt I haven’t seen in two years is standing in front of me.
“Y/n!?” He looks me up and down, his mouth open, “Fuck… You look good.” I could say the same for him, in a navy button down, jeans, and his jewelry adorning his hands. He’s ridiculously hot.
I laugh, “Careful Lan, my brother could be lurking.” I switch my weight onto one leg as he smirks.
Max loves Lando. Max loves me.
Therefore, Max HATED the thought of us even speaking. We were all friends in childhood but our teens hit and suddenly I was completely off limits. I’m pretty sure he noticed how much I asked about Lando and swore that he would kill both of us if anything happened.
Someone walks behind him, causing him to get closer, his hand brushing against my hip, “Don’t scare me, yeah?”
I bite my lip at the thought, we start walking across the room, Lando’s hand firmly on me now as he ‘guides’ me. “Don’t worry. Idiots in Monaco… which means we have free rein.”
I see his jaw clench, his drink slide onto his lips again, “I’d like to keep my friendship.”
“I’d like to lose my panties.” I’m quick to reply, messing with Lando used to be my favorite thing.
You see, Lando is Max’s best friend. He feels bad lying and this would definitely be considered a betrayal of trust.
But for me… Max is my brother. I can lie and do whatever I want with no remorse. Lando is something I could do easily and as much as it would make me happy to piss off my brother, Norris has always been that one guy in the back of my mind.
“Christ Y/n. Missed your remarks.” We make it to the wall, it’s a bit quieter over here.
“You mean you missed my flirting?” I look up at him, he just bites his lip, hiding his smile.
“I missed you.” He surprises me with this.
“I missed you too.” I push my hand through my hair, “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Really good.” He smiles big and I know it’s because of his racing.
“Watched your win in Zandvoort.” I sigh, “Simply lovely was brutal.” He rolls his eyes, laughing and leaning his head back on the wall.
“Not you too!”
“It was hilarious! I liked it!” I hit his arm and the way he looks at me… it’s like every emotion that I've tucked away and only opened up in the darkness of my bedroom after midnight, comes out then. “I like this too.”
My hand goes to the back of his neck, playing with his curls that shape his baby mullet.
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes cut into me, his voice weak.
“What?” I say innocently.
“You always do this.”
“Do what, Norris?” Lando never was that much taller than me, but something about the two passed years has changed that.
His tongue runs over his teeth, he’s about to say something but two guys appear next to us, “Mate! We’ve been looking for you!” Another British man speaks, Alex Albon to be exact.
“Found a friend?” Carlos sainz eyes me, dressed in all black.
I smile at the drivers, Lando eyes Carlos. “Max’s sister. Y/n.” They both nod and look much too interested in how Lando says it, “Y/n… this is Alex and Carlos.”
“Pleasure.” I smile wide. I am an F1 fan, it’s a bit weird seeing Lando on the grid but I’ll sit and watch with Max almost every weekend that we’re together.
“Pleasures all ours! I’ve always wanted to meet Lando’s childhood crush!” Lando hits Carlos, making him grab his stomach, “Worth it!” The Spanish man chokes out.
Lando scratches the back of his neck, not looking at me. “Are you here with anyone?” Alex asks me, I knew he would be nice.
“Yeah! I’m not sure where they are but…”
“That’s okay. You have us now!” Alex and I end up getting a drink, Lando stays back with Carlos who’s definitely teasing him.
I get a vodka lemonade and four shots. Alex and I are already best friends and laughing so hard that Carlos and Lando won’t stop asking us what’s so funny.
They don’t know that I showed Alex a photo of Lando and I as smurfs when we were five.
⋆。‧˚⋆
LANDO NORRIS
Describing Y/n is something i’ve done many times. To friends, for context in stories, but if i’d really describe her… I don’t think I would have an ending point.
She’s got long blonde hair. She cut it all off when she was fifteen and I almost fainted when I didn’t recognize her. She loved it.
She’s confident, you can see it in her walk. Her hips sway and the click of her heels is something I'll never forget.
When she talks to you, all attention is on you, her eyes are hazel, appearing brown in the dark but if you get close enough… you’ll see the green.
She never quite had an awkward stage, always been beautiful, probably always will be. I haven’t seen her in years yet she acts like I talked to her yesterday.
Y/n sucks on a lime after her shot, smiling and clapping her hands together, “God, I feel like i’m in highschool!”
I obviously didn’t go to school with her. She’s a year younger and Max would non stop complain about her. She was more popular than him, going out, and was basically friends with everyone.
I remind myself again that Max is the reason why my arm is around the couch and not her waist.
⋆。‧˚⋆
Y/N
“Norris!” I stand, holding out my hand, “Picture time.” I smile as he stands with me.
“What?” Carlos asks.
“Called the booth for a reason, Sainz!” I grin at the boys, gripping Lando’s hand tight and maneuvering us through the crowd.
There’s one photo booth in the back corner of the club. It’s notorious for famous photos and making everyone look good.
I look back at the boys who all look confused. All except Lando.
We came to the booth when Lando was in town from F2, we were 17 and 18. Max had gone off with some girl and we found ourselves in this exact booth.
We swore never to talk about it.
But I’m all for repeating history.
“Fewtrell…” He warns in my ear as we walk to the starred booth.
I glance back, dragging out his name, “Norris.”
He gets in first, unlike us as teens, only one person can fit. I smile and watch Lando’s face drop, I sit down on his lap, “Playing with fire here, love.” he says in my ear.
“I don’t mind getting burned.” He slips two coins in, his hand moving to my waist and holding me steady.
We smile first.
SNAP
I move a bit and give him bunny ears.
SNAP
Lando clears his throat, gripping my skin tighter as he looks at me. I move again, my skirt riding up a bit. “Trying to kill me?”
I smile and kiss his cheek, feeling something hard against me.
SNAP
“Of course.” I look at him, “The memories in here… You remember?”
“I’d be an idiot to forget.”
His hand moves down my hip, closer to my thigh. I look at him again as the photo booth starts up for the second time, “I shouldn’t.” He whispers, my face centimeters from his. I hear the whistles outside.
I shift once more, turning more to him. He groans, his head falling backwards and his eyes closing, “Give me a good reason.”
SNAP
He opens his eyes, meeting mine. I know I've got him. My hand rests on his neck, my rings pressing against his skin. He mumbles something but it’s too loud, “Speak up, Norris.”
“Never spoken.” His eyes flick to my lips, trying to get me to promise this is a secret.
“Never ever.” He leans in closer.
SNAP
“Come on rule breaker… I believe in you.” I whisper in his ear and it breaks him. I’m pulling his head closer to me, his lips on mine, a relief like no other.
He grabs ass, pulling me closer in the tiny space. I slip my tongue in his mouth, whimpering a bit. He bites my lip. I’m melting into him. It’s hot and needy but so much more than I could have ever wanted.
SNAP
Kissing Lando at Seventeen was scandalous and drunken. Kissing Lando at Twenty Three flat out sexy.
“Need you…” He whispers into the kiss which makes me almost come undone right then and there.
Someone bangs on the booth, “Alright Lovebirds!” Lando laughs but I'm the one to pull away.
“I can’t leave this booth.” He says quickly, his face red and sweaty.
“You’ll be fine-” I understand what he’s talking about when I go to leave and something brushes against my leg, “Oh.”
He looks away from me, blushing.
I smile, proud of myself for the boner and his pink cheeks, “Aw come on! I’ll cover you.” I wink and he rolls his eyes, He walks out behind me, his arms firmly on my waist again.
The two drivers grin at us, “You covering a boner?” Carlos starts but gets punched for the second time tonight by Lando. He holds his stomach again, “Still worth it!”
#fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#lando norris fanfic#f1 imagine#lando norris#lando x reader#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#lando imagine#lando norris smut
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Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather that’s flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)
Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol
Warnings: angst galore!
Word count: 2,801
MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)
divider by @h-aewo
The heavy oak doors of the estate’s study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.
The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. He’s a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.
A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These aren’t just numbers and figures on a page—they represent your children’s future, your security, and the small corner of independence you’re desperately trying to carve out for yourself. “Now, given the scale of your family’s assets,” your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, “it’s prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstances—marital or otherwise.”
You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafe’s unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you can’t afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.
“We’re talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain age—18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.”
“And what about Rafe’s side of the family?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. “Would they have any legal claim?” The lawyer shakes his head firmly. “No. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no one—not even your husband—could alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.”
You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wanted—an impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your children’s future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafe’s influence or the demands of your family. “Thank you,” you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. “I want everything arranged quietly,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.
“No one else needs to know about this… especially my husband.” The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. “Discretion is key, as always.” You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.
The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you can’t shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell him.
~
The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.
"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in it—the suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"
You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"
Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafe’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He’s already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "It’s nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."
Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Don’t play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasn’t just about your parents or your siblings."
His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "You’re setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. Of course, you knew he’d react like this, but hearing it out loud—his anger, his distrust—it’s worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.
"It’s for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure they’re taken care of, no matter what happens. That’s all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.
Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.
"You don’t trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldn’t look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he can’t comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.
"That’s not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstanding—of him always assuming the worst—pushes you to the brink. "I’m doing this to protect them. To protect us. You can’t control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.
"You’re doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And I’m supposed to believe it’s just for the kids? You don’t set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like you’re preparing for something else. Like maybe you’re planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"
His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. It’s not just anger simmering in his voice—there’s fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life you’re carrying.
“And have our children without their father?” you ask, your voice sharp. There’s a flicker of something more beneath the surface—hurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. “Rafe…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what you’ve just implied. “I’m not leaving you.”
The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isn’t about that,” you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. “But I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. “I’m not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that I’m not just a piece in this game.”
You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think I’m the threat here? You think I wouldn’t protect you? Protect our family?"
You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something else—something more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.
"This isn’t how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm you’ve been clinging to. It’s a painful reminder of what your marriage has become—what it’s always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life… it’s not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for that argument.
"I know," you whisper, though you’re not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.
For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gap—but the weight of your decision, of everything you’ve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. It’s a boundary you can’t afford to cross right now. "You should’ve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. There’s hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.
Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didn’t want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasn’t trying to hide it from you."
Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerable—something he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.
"Our lives… they’re not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.
He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. It’s a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if he’s silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.
You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldn’t. It’s as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, there’s something deeper binding you together—a love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. “I’m not the enemy, Y/n,” he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.
His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesn’t let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different now—quieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.
Rafe’s hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, it’s no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.
You know this isn’t over. Rafe’s suspicions won’t vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, he’ll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.
#rafe cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au#rafe cameron#drew starkey#outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#obx fanfiction#drew starkey x y/n#rafe cameron fanfiction#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron blurb#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#outer banks x y/n#outer banks x you
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3rd house placements and your voice!
hii, i wanted to do more of a light & fun themed post that goes over the kind of voice you have, the type of communicator you are, and other things as well according to your 3rd house placements. if you do not have any placements in your third, check out the house ruler and apply it accordingly, ex; my third house is ruled by pisces, apply the neptune features to it!
sun in 3rd house - talk about thinking out-loud!! sun in 3rd people are such great communicators, they get things across loud and clear. never ones to hold back, natural conversationalists, and you have a voice that often sounds younger. when you talk it's heartfelt and you feel that half-assings in conversations is just not you! sometimes, your age is mistaken due to your lengths of knowledge and the ability to express your inner child through your interests. you use your hands often when you speak! often have such a memorable voice and this placement is a strong indicator of being a music artist too; justin beiber, jay z, drake, britney spears, all very household names and all are always getting their voice impersonated by other people interestingly enough!! there's versatility that spews through these people, not hard at all for them to improvise, standup, debate, etc. can be gossipy though and involved in dramas very easily because of this.
moon in 3rd house - mental clarity goes crazy here. your emotions give you all the drive you need- creatively and you don't hold back on that. they intellectualize their emotions and can formulate feelings into words very well. the kind of voice they have is much softer, eloquent, and comforting. they're the kind of people that send you a voicemail and you listen to it over and over again because it's endearing. "say it with your chest," type of people, as the moon is mostly fixated in the chest-stomach region. they have a good discernment of their environment, walking analysts, know when to intervene, etc. celebrities with moon in 3rd; jennifer aniston, megan markle, margot robbie, etc.
mercury in 3rd house - very fast-paced talkers, versatile in the way they communicate. also uses their hands while they speak, has a witty and sarcastic tint to them when they speak. often very humorous people and naturally highly innovative. for these people ideas flow into them at fast rates, often giving them plenty of projects to work on. placement of high intelligence, and great at mirroring. "excuse me, may i interrupt," types of people. love adding on to others and i notice with 3rd house mercuries as they get older, they do become a lot quieter and keep ideas to themselves. celebrities with this include; jim carey, nikola tesla, stephen hawking, etc. (like i said super wise and funny thats a dub for sure)
venus in 3rd house - first thing that comes to mind is glamorous voice. often times they talk about their love-lives (yes they always have the craziest stories about others or themselves in love). just like the sun, these people have a notable voice too. one that can even get them famous. often these people have strong followings, or crowds that really like listening to them. highly influential and lowkey some party heads. might have some commitment troubles, but other than that they have good projecting voices- soothing, and has good posture too. celebs with this; cristiano ronaldo, taylor swift, kris jenner, etc.
mars in 3rd house - i like to say they have some of the most electric voices ever. seriously. they know exactly how to spice up conversations and they move a lot when they talk. they inspire others to take course of action, usually very good individuals at gaining crowds as well, but what differentiates venusian people and mars people- is the attitude. mars gain people's attention through their eccentric-ness. other people find mars in 3rd house bundles of expression, always on the go and actually very good manifestos. usually has raspiness and deepness to their voices because they tend to shout a lot. celebs with this; miley cyrus, harry styles, katy perry, etc.
jupiter in 3rd house - these people have a love for languages. usually very diverse linguistically, and always the guy that knows a guy. very good at developing acquaintances in their environment. usually has more high-pitched voices, slow and even sensual, but clear. they like knowing a bit of everything while they can. sometimes, these people can attract things out of thin air, and receive many comments on their voice or abilities to make their life experiences sound a lot less gruesome than it really is. kind of in their own little world and has open demeanor. often times you see these people unexpectedly associating with others that "make no sense" for them or in environments that "make no sense for them". side note: the biggest struggle these people will face is people trying to mold them to be somebody they're not. they love to expand wherever they can. celebrities with jupiter in 3rd; lana del rey, lionel messi, jim carey, and gordon ramsey.
saturn in 3rd house - mean big business ok!! let me tell you, these people are amazing at using their environments for their endeavors. they're very humble speakers, reserved and kind of talk when asked to. they are great at explaining principles of underlying things, usually seems older than what they really are. they stick to one thing at a time, and they are actually easy to read while talking to them. their body language is more telling than their words sometimes. watch a saturn in 3rd house's jaw clench when they are stressed, or crack their knuckles while thinking heavily. celebrities with this placement; steve jobs, kylie jenner, bjork, zoe kravitz, etc.
uranus in 3rd house - "you can't outdo the doer," is what i get from this placement. highly intellectual people, makes significant shifts into the world. when they speak, they're actually very good at impressions, get told they don't look like how they sound, or will attract many "haters" because they challenge status quo mentality. they will never stand down when communicating their deepest interests. they seem quirky & nerdy, however highly reliable and feels a strong sense of "these people need me." as they become older, they are more cherished, while they are younger they might seem air headed. their voices are so unique to them, that you cannot easily be reminded of them by others. they are completely in their own lanes. one of a kinds. celebrities with this placement; albert einstein, elon musk, celine dion, michael jordan, etc.
neptune in 3rd house - has a deep understanding of the environment they're in. they are very quiet and timid. these people really like to connect to people based off their souls and not their physical forms. and when they speak, they have a genuine tone and strive for genuine connection. sometimes, these people think many people they cross paths with are meant to make them feel good, feel bad, question, etc. highly accepting and others can admire this person too. seems ditzy, but on the inside is a whirlpool of feeling and emotions they sense. sometimes they can get abnormal praise, simply for the way they express themselves. i notice with these people they love to make facial movements when speaking, like very dramatically sometimes. you can always tell when these people are nervous too, watch how many times they shake their feet to soothe themselves. always seems very introspective wherever they go. celebrities with this placement; al pacino, leonardo dicaprio, beyonce, kendrick lamar, etc.
pluto in 3rd house - bringing pluto into this mix, wherever they go they love to change what they can in their environments. they want to change things for the better, and usually really find interest in talking about things that isn't so typical in conversation. they are very serious people when in discussion. they hate to say a lot without leaving impact. these people will sound much older and have a profound tone. often they bring the collective darkness to a collective lightness. i notice they love using metaphors, talking in 3rd person, and dropping their egos a lot in conversations. makes undeniable changes to societal norms or social structures. these are life changers and add some humanitarianism to everyday encounters, really love dropping a lot of their own lore too! celebrities with this; angelina jolie, martin luther king, adam levine, kylian mbappe.
thank you so much for skimming through this i appreciate it as always, let me know if you relate, disagree etc. super interesting in seeing what you think, let me know if u want me to do more like these <3
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💭 thinking about…
𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍!
pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : argument, logan shouts at reader over something insignificant, hurt / comfort, ANGST, fluff, happy ending word count : 2.4k
logan had been on edge for weeks now. everything seemed to be going wrong, one thing after another. his mission plan was falling apart, charles was breathing down his neck, and it felt like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch a break. the stress was eating at him, wearing him down little by little until it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
you’d noticed the change in him - how he seemed quieter, more distant, his temper flaring up over the smallest things. you tried to help where you could, offering him a shoulder to lean on, giving him space when he needed it, but nothing seemed to work. logan was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.
today had been the worst of all. logan’s day started with a series of frustrating conversations that left him feeling like he was running in circles. every task seemed to come with a new problem, and by the time he left work, he was fuming. his hands clenched into fists as he drove home, his mind racing with everything that had gone wrong. all he wanted was to come home, find some peace, and forget about the day. but even that was too much to ask.
when he walked through the door, he immediately noticed that the kitchen was spotless - so spotless, in fact, that his papers, the ones he’d left scattered across the table, were missing. he felt a surge of irritation. you had been on a cleaning spree, trying to make the house more comfortable for him, but in doing so, you’d moved around some of his blueprints. the ones he needed. the ones he hadn’t had time to organise properly.
“where are my papers?” logan’s voice was tight as he scanned the kitchen, looking for the documents that were now nowhere to be seen.
you looked up from where you were organising the bookshelf, smiling a little at him. “oh, i moved them to the study so you’d have more space. i thought - ”
“you thought?” logan cut you off, his voice rising. “why would you move my stuff without asking me?”
you blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “i just wanted to help. i know you’ve been stressed, and i thought having a clean space might - ”
“a clean space?” logan’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “i don’t need a clean space, i need my work to not be messed with! do you have any idea how much shit i’ve been dealing with lately? and now this - this is the last thing i need!”
he was shouting now, the frustration of the past few weeks boiling over. every little thing that had gone wrong, every setback, every sleepless night - it all came out in a torrent of anger directed at you.
“logan, i didn’t mean to make things worse…” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening. he was too far gone, too wrapped up in his own frustration to hear the hurt in your voice.
“you never think, do you? you just do whatever you want, and now i’m the one who has to deal with the consequences! i’m sick of this! i’m sick of everything always going wrong, and now you’re just adding to it!”
his words cut through you like a knife. you hadn’t meant to make things worse, you
were just trying to help, but the way he was yelling at you, the anger in his voice - it was too much. your chest tightened, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back.
“logan, please… i’m sorry, i just wanted to make things easier for you,” you said, your voice trembling.
“easier? easier for me?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “well, congratulations, because you’ve done the exact opposite! now i have to waste even more time finding everything you moved, and i’m already drowning here!”
the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over. you tried to wipe them away quickly, but logan was still shouting, too caught up in his own anger to notice.
“why can’t you just leave things the way they are? why do you always have to interfere? it’s like you don’t even care how much pressure i’m under! do you even care about anything besides what you want?”
his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. a sob escaped your lips, loud and broken, and it stopped logan in his tracks. the sound cut through his anger like a knife, and suddenly, the room was silent.
he stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. you were crying - no, you were sobbing, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. all the anger, all the frustration that had been driving him just moments ago, drained away, leaving him feeling hollow and ashamed.
“y/n…” he started, his voice shaky now, all the sharp edges gone. “shit, i didn’t mean…”
but you couldn’t stop crying, the weight of his words crashing down on you all at once. you hadn’t realised just how much stress he’d been under, how deeply it had been affecting him, and now it felt like you’d only made everything worse.
logan stepped closer, his hands reaching out, but he hesitated. he didn’t know how to fix this - how to take back the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. “hey, hey… please don’t cry. i’m sorry, i didn’t… i didn’t mean any of that.”
his hands were trembling as he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. he could feel your sobs wracking your body, and it broke something inside him. how could he have been so blind? so stupid?
“i’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m an idiot, and i let all this shit get to me, and i took it out on you. you didn’t deserve any of that.”
you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you tried to calm down. his arms were strong around you, holding you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. and maybe, in that moment, you were.
logan pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring apologies over and over, his voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry… i’m so fucking sorry… please, y/n, don’t cry. i hate seeing you like this.”
you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood, but the words were stuck in your throat. instead, you just held onto him, letting him hold you, letting his presence calm the storm inside you.
it took a while for your sobs to finally subside, and when they did, you felt exhausted, like all the fight had been drained out of you. but logan didn’t let go - he just held you tighter, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away.
“i’ve been such a fucking mess lately,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “everything’s been going wrong, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. i’ve been pushing you away, taking it out on you, and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”
you nodded against his chest, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “i just wanted to help… i hate seeing you like this. it feels like you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to bring you back.”
logan’s heart clenched at your words. he hadn’t realised how much his behaviour had been affecting you, how much you’d been carrying on your own. he felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, and he held you even tighter.
“y’re not losing me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. his thumb gently brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his touch soft, careful. “i promise you, you’re not losing me. i’ve just been so caught up in my own shit that i forgot what really matters.”
you searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words, and you found it there - clear and unwavering. he was still here, still the man you loved, even if he’d lost his way for a while.
“i’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his voice steady now, a promise in every word. “we’re going to get through this. together.”
you nodded, a small, shaky smile forming on your lips. “yeah.”
logan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he’d been holding back for weeks. “i love you so much. and i’m going to do better, i can fuckin’ promise you that, bub.”
you closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling the truth in them. you knew it wouldn’t be easy - logan was stubborn, and he had a lot to work through - but you also knew that he meant every word. he loved you, and that was enough.
“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft but steady.
logan’s lips found yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of apologies and promises of love and commitment. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. logan smiled - a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.
the two of you stayed like that for a while longer, just holding each other, finding comfort in the closeness. the argument, the hurt, the tears - they were all still there, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming now. you both knew there was work to be done, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like you were on the same page, like you could actually do this.
when logan finally pulled away, he took your hand and led you to the couch, where the two of you sat down together. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.
“tell me what’s been going on,” you said softly, wanting to understand what had been eating at him for so long. “i want to help, logan. i don’t want you to go through this alone.”
logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “it’s just been one thing after another. work’s been a nightmare. nothing’s going right, and scott is on my case constantly. every day, it feels like i’m just… barely keeping my head above water. and then i come home, and i don’t want to burden you with all of this, but it’s just… it’s been too much.”
you listened quietly, letting him talk, letting him get it all out. you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the frustration, the weight he’d been carrying for so long. it broke your heart to know he’d been dealing with all of this on his own, and you hadn’t even realised how bad it had gotten.
“logan,” you said softly when he finished, your voice filled with compassion. “you don’t have to carry this by yourself. i’m here, and i want to help. we’re a team, remember?”
logan nodded, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the couch. “i know. i just… i didn’t want to unload all of this on you. i didn’t want to worry you.”
“but i was already worried,” you pointed out gently. “because i could see that something was wrong, and you weren’t talking to me about it. that’s what scared me the most - not knowing what was going on in your head.”
logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with regret. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to shut you out. i just… didn’t know how to talk about it. i didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“logan, you don’t have to be perfect,” you said, your voice firm but loving. “i love you for who you are, flaws and all. and if you’re struggling, i want to know. i want to be there for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”
logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your skin. “but i’m so fucking grateful that you’re here.”
you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. “you deserve all the love in the world, logan. and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out, one step at a time.”
logan nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. he knew he was lucky to have you, and he was determined to do better - to be better. for you, and for himself.
the two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, really talking, about everything that had been weighing on logan’s mind. it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, and by the end of the night, you both felt a sense of relief that had been missing for far too long.
logan knew he still had a lot to work through, but he also knew that he wasn’t alone. you were by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came your way. and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could finally breathe again.
as you both drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, logan made a silent promise to himself: he would never take you for granted again. you were his rock, his safe haven, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.
because at the end of the day, no matter how tough things got, you were the one thing in his life that he couldn’t afford to lose. and he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, now and always.
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