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tteokdoroki · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 💎 JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★ about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner.

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive.

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void.

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs.

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present.

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?”

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown.

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing, the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.”

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.”

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!”

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.”

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father.

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.”

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal.

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.”

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!”

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.”

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes.

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.”

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl.

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?”

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!”

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!”

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you.

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different —

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft.

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?”

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.”

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply.

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss.

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?”

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl.

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the physical version of a precious memory.

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!”

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot.

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him. “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper? y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.”

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,” sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.”

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i?

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.”

“here, isn’t he cute.”

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!”

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!”

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,” though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air. “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.”

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face.

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course )

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.�� voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before.

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad!

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.”

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill.

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.”

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel.

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip?

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

3K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Note

hi, loveyy. if you'd like, would you write for reader x dr!remus where she's really sick and tries to hide it from him so he doesn't worry?

Thanks for requesting!

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus keeps your apartment torturously cold. Normally you don’t mind it, but today you’re achy enough without the chill. The first thing you do when you get home is crank up the thermostat, then take a steamy shower and start warming the kettle. Proactive measures.

You’re taking better care of yourself than you possibly ever have, all to the end of eluding your boyfriend.

When Remus comes home, you’re sitting on the couch in your cozies waiting for your thoroughly honeyed tea to cool. You’re quick to remove the warm cloth from your sinuses before he can see. You make sure your throat is clear before you speak.

“Hi, how was work?”

“Swamped.” Remus bends over the back of the couch to kiss your hair. “Everyone has the flu, strep, or both. Every year, no one gets their flu jabs, and every year they’re shocked when they catch it.” He comes to sit by you, smiling tiredly. “I’d want to throttle all of them if they weren’t already so miserable.”

It’s an effort to keep your shame from showing as you return his smile. Remus starts to lean toward you, but you back away, keeping your mouth a safe distance from his.

At his questioning look, you say feebly, “You smell like your office.”

He lets out a breath of laughter but moves away. “Alright. I’ll change.”

You send him a guilty look as he goes that he doesn’t know the half of, but Remus only smiles indulgently back at you.

From down the hall, you hear, “Dovey, did you change the thermostat?”

Shit, you forgot to switch it back.

“Yeah, sorry. I was chilly when I got home.”

“It’s fine. Do you…want me to leave it like this? It’s set fairly high.”

“Um…” Honestly, yes. “That’s okay. I’m good now, you can set it back.”

“Alright.”

You hear the ticks of the thermostat being turned down, and you grab a throw from across the back of the couch, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders.

“Do you want some tea?” you ask him after a minute. “I’ve just made myself a cup.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart, stay where you are.” Remus emerges from the bedroom in his own house clothes, looking painfully snuggly. He heads for the kitchen. “You left the honey out. Do you still need it?”

You wince. “No, I’m alright.”

When Remus rejoins you in the sitting room, you pretend to be busy with your book. He sits back in his spot, and you cozy up to him before he can try to kiss you again, your head on his shoulder.

“Are you still cold?” he asks, adjusting the throw over you.

You hum a lie.

Remus seems satisfied with that. He tucks you under an arm and picks up his own book.

You’re a few pages in when your nose starts to tickle. You try to breathe through it, hoping it will go away, but it’s no use. You’re hardly able to pinch your nose shut before a sneeze pitches out of you, violent and head-throbbing.

“Bless you.” Remus rubs your back. “You okay?”

You sniffle. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, lovely girl,” he chides gently. You feel his lips touch down on your head.

You soak up the comfort like warmth on a wintry day. Miraculously, Remus doesn’t question you any further, and eventually you lay your head back on his shoulder. You flip pages without truly reading them, your mind fuzzy and your body exhausted, until your eyes grow heavy and you forget to flip them at all. At some point, Remus’ head tilts so it’s resting atop yours. When he starts massaging the back of your neck, it feels so nice you don’t even really register it.

“Dove,” he murmurs.

You hum in pleased, half-asleep acknowledgement.

“You need to stay home from work tomorrow, sweet girl.”

You blink your eyes open slowly. Pick your head up off Remus’ shoulder, and look at him in confusion. “What?”

He looks back at you patiently. “Your fever’s gotten worse, and you’re contagious. It’s not good for you or anyone if you go in.”

“But…” Your brow furrows. You feel like you’ve missed a chapter. “How did you know?”

Remus gives you an amused look. “I see sick people all day long. You thought I wouldn’t notice?” You frown. He chuckles and cups your face in his hand, thumbing over your cheek consolingly. “You were clearing your throat all evening yesterday. But it didn’t seem bad yet, and you didn’t seem to want to tell me, so…” He shrugs. “But now it’s time to let me take care of you, okay?”

You rub your lips together. You think you’re waiting for him to be angry with you, but your boyfriend seems only sympathetic. And a bit smug.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t wanna be another thing for you to deal with.”

“Oh, hush.” Remus tsks, shifting so he can wrap his arms around you. “I like dealing with you, have I not been clear about that?”

“You don’t want to throttle me because I’m another idiot who didn’t get the flu jab?”

You feel the reverberations of his quiet chuckle in his chest. “First of all, I said I would want to throttle them. I’m a doctor, I can’t just be contemplating throttling my patients. And no, sweetheart.” He slips his hand from your shoulder down the length of your back, rubbing through your blanket. “I don’t think that about you. I wish you’d gotten it, but there’s nothing to be done now. You’re sick, and I only want to look after you.”

The onslaught of tenderness melts you. You let your face slip down to his shoulder, nose pushing into his neck. “My head hurts,” you mumble.

“Awe, dovey.” Remus brings his other hand to your nape, massaging the achy muscles there again. “Have you had paracetamol since you’ve been home?”

You shake your head mutely.

“I’ll get you some in a minute, then. And we can have soup for dinner, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You feel frighteningly teary. “Will you stay here for a while with me first, though? Please?”

Remus’ lips press softly to your forehead. “Sure, of course.”

925 notes · View notes

shewroteaworld · 1 year ago

Text

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open.

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair.

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning,

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die?

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked.

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid, couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“What I do?” You whined.

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.”

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to.

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously. The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried.

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip.

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.”

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard.

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations.

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list.

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world.

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat.

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay.

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness.

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face.

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said.

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice.

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered.

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.”

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass.

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline.

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly.

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further.

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious.

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident.

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.”

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid.

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict.

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs.

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again.

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update.

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded.

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked.

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.”

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station.

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior.

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends.

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back.

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked.

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital.

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health.

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.”

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people.

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case.

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body.

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad.

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway.

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.”

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further.

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling.

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said.

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall.

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end.

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness.

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.”

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.”

Rossi left Reid staring at his back.

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue.

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

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luvtak · 2 years ago

Text

Dating Stray Kids

❀ seriously criminal amounts of fluff. mostly gender neutral and basically unedited :/

❀ a/n this took years cause theres so many of them but i hope it doesn’t flop 💖💖 love you guys!!!

❀ w/c 2419

Chan: You were never even dating this man, you went from friends to married in like three days—one day you were single and then you were a mother to seven boys. So many days sitting in his studio listening to what he’s conjured up. Never leaves in the morning without giving you a kiss. Always looking out for you, walks on the busy side of the street and puts his hand up to shield your head when you get in the car. Listens so attentively whenever you’re speaking to him. Wraps you up in his clothes and the warmest blankets when you say you’re cold. When he can sleep, he lays directly on top of you. Is always asking how you are and genuinely wants to know all your daily ailments. Slightly teases you then hugs you so tight if he sees it annoyed you. Will kiss you anywhere and everywhere, then gets shy when he realizes you’re not alone. Is interested in all your interests. Hands are never kept to himself; he is all over you 100% of the time, always smiling when you’re around. Brings home little trinkets from tour that made him think of you. Writes you songs, unlike Jisung they are really sweet and poetic. Calls you all sorts of little names and giggles when you smile about it. Cuddles with you all night even if he can’t fall asleep. Leaves blankets and snacks in his studio for when you come visit. Texts you to watch channies room then gets shy when you actually do. Miraculously pulls out an extra sweater for you and pretends like he doesn’t always carry one around for you. Always has an arm around you or a hand in your pocket. Cradles you like a baby when you’re sad. He just loves you sm and takes care of you like your another one of his little ducks.

Minho: So lovely, but also your nemesis—kisses you then tells you your hair looks silly, or your outfit doesn’t match. Packs you lunches and reminds you to bring a coat. Is always telling you to text him when you get home, he doesn’t want to be controlling but he gets so worried. Says I love you first then acts all cocky when you say it back. I feel like he does things for you under the guise of you doing it wrong, when the truth is he just likes doing things for you. Never shows physical affection in front of other people but speaks to you in the sweetest tone, it’s almost more intimate. Washes your face for you and helps put you into pajamas when you’re too sleepy to do it. When you can’t sleep, he’ll lay next to you and tell you funny stories until you pass out. Kisses you all over your face when you’re sad. Fiddles with all your jewelry, he’s so gentle with it you don’t notice until you realize a ring is missing and see it on his pinkie. Thinks you’re so cute, sometimes he can’t help but talk to you like you’re one of his cats. Hugs you so so so tight and presses soft kisses in your hair. Tells you he misses you then threatens you to not tell anyone what he said. Takes you on special dates for no reason other than to make you smile. Calls you a certain pet name so often sometimes the boys forget its not your name. He not so secretively treasures you and makes sure you know when his teasing goes a little too far—you’re just so precious to him it’s hard for him to express in words.

Changbin: Super domestic and accepting. You could seriously tell him anything and he’d be like “okay, that’s great, honey!” Takes you to the gym with him and kisses you after every set. Loves sitting and doing nothing with you. Genuinely thinks you’re the most wonderful thing he has ever encountered. Constantly trying to impress you: flexing when he knows you’re looking, telling his best jokes when you’re around, bringing home expensive dinners. Pulls you into his arms to dance while you cook for him. Your biggest hype man and will never hear you say anything negative about yourself. Is always trying to pick you up, you could be dating for five years, and he'd still be giving out pick up lines. Whenever you hurt yourself, he’s going to kiss it better, no matter how dramatic it is—you have a splinter, here’s a kiss! You’re in the hospital, another kiss! Pretends to like things just because you do. Literally never says no to you. He talks about you so much; all the boys know everything about you before they even meet you. Every time he sees you, he’s going to lift you up and spin you around like you’re in some cheesy movie just so you’ll laugh. Always hugging you. #1 advocate for daily naps just so you can cuddle. Talks about your future like its already set in stone, like you’re getting married no matter what. Is so proud of you and the fact you’re together—Only has good things to say. Gifts you so many stuffed animals to cuddle with when he’s away. Calls you the most nauseatingly sweet pet names and holds you like your porcelain. You’re literally his little baby and he’s going to love and care for you if it’s the last thing he does.

Hyunjin: The most intimate and earnest boyfriend. Even if you’re the two most different people he convinces you you’re soulmates, you’re split aparts fr. Constantly playing with your hair. Tells everyone he doesn’t like skinship then wraps himself around you. Says something really sweet then acts all shy when three months later you’re watching a drama and the romantic lead says the same line. Uses your shower stuff and perfume so he can smell like you. Kisses every mole and stretch mark he can see. Whenever he sees something pretty he tells you it reminds him of you before roasting you within an inch of your life. Your house slowly becomes his house because suddenly everything he’s ever bought ends up there. CEO of romantic gestures—sends you flowers every chance he gets, writes love letters, and paints pictures. Wears a locket with your picture in it. Has a polaroid of you in his phone case. Sends you stupid tiktok’s and all he says is “it’s you.” So many bookstore and art museum dates. Late nights filled with dramas and skincare—after every step he gets a kiss! Thinks everything you say is funny. Loves you so much sometimes all he can do is cry because you’ll never know. Loves seeing you get along with the boys but as soon as one gets a little too close, he’s shooting them the biggest side eye. Always has snacks on hand for you—biggest fear is of hangry you. So tender and empathetic that when you get upset, he also starts getting emotional. Sometimes when you’re out together he gets really quiet and when you turn to see what’s wrong, he is just staring at you before he breaks out in a huge smile. Life with him is full of giggles. You’re his favorite person in the whole world and he’s yours!

Jisung: So deeply infatuated with you he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. Every time he looks at you, he gets all moony eyed. Is always touching you in some way—hand on your thigh while you’re eating, arm around your waist while you walk together. Has lists of movies you need to watch together in his notes app. You’re a very cozy couple, almost always in pajamas and watching a Miyazaki movie. Definitely writes you songs, but not sweet ones they’re the worst improvised lines about how much he loves you. For all his goofy antics, as soon as you’re alone he’s becomes so quietly domestic—bringing home dinners and doing facemasks. Begs you to watch scary movies with him so he can have an excuse to baby you after. Talks about you nonstop, tells the boys jokes you told him just so he can say “isn’t my s/o so funny?’ Cuddle monster—needs them or he’ll start being mean to all the boys. If you’re someone who wears heels, he’d def be the kind of boyfriend to walk barefoot in his socks so you could wear his sneakers. Pulls at your cheeks and coos like you’re a baby. Takes so many photos of you from awful angles and won’t listen when you tell him you look terrible. So many forehead kisses. Has never called you your name since you got together, it’s always baby, and if you even dare to call him Jisung he’s going to have a breakdown trying to figure out what he did. Hands are permanently linked. Never leaves a conversation without an “I love you.” He thinks the world of you, so fond of everything you are and makes sure you never forget it<3

Felix: So so so so precious. The perfect boy, so sweet and tender you could never second guess his feelings. Loves so hard and so deep that everyone who looks at the two you knows just how he feels. He’s so open with all his feelings, you almost never fight. The kind of boy who brushes your hair and rubs lotion onto your legs. Compliments you every day, and not just saying you’re pretty, but the most earth-shattering no other compliment could ever measure up compliment. Is so interested in you, tries to learn everything he can. Since you met this boy, you have not tied your own shoes once, does it for you every time. Matching everything, wants everyone to know you’re together, as if anyone couldn’t pick it up from the way he’s draped all over you. Favorite thing on earth is when you sit with him doing nothing, he could be doing something he’s done a million times, but as soon as you’re around its better. Presses the softest kisses all around your face—nose, eyes, then lips, every morning to wake you up. Sings with you so loud in the car to all your favorite songs. #1 PDA advocate—does not care who’s around he will be affectionate. Always fiddling with your clothes. Makes you sweet treats and tells you they’re made with love. Could listen to you forever, sometimes he’ll bring up something he knows you love just so he can hear you toddling on. Buys you too many presents but will never accept you spending money on him. Never lets you walk home alone or open the door for yourself—if he can do it for you he’s doing it. Loves you so deeply you can feel it in every word.

Seungmin: Such a bully boyfriend. Never lets you live—if he can find a joke in it, he’s saying it, but at the same time never lets you second guess how he feels. While he won’t be lovey dovey all the time, but you can feel his affection in how he takes care of you—If you ask him to do something he’s going to complain, but that doesn’t mean he’s not doing it. Makes bad jokes so he can kiss the disappointment of your face. Orders your favorite for dinner and acts like its no big deal. Pretends not to but relishes in your affection. Will stop whatever he’s doing as soon as you say his name a little too seriously. Super shy with PDA but is constantly holding your hand. Is always talking about you, telling the other Kids stories about you until they have to tell him to shut up. Your biggest fan: puts up your graduation picture and top graded essay up on the fridge and is always bragging about you to others. Sings you to sleep when you’re tossing and turning. Teases you all the time but as soon as someone else does they better run for cover. Remembers every little detail about your life, even things that you’ve forgotten. Is secretly very sentimental and has all sorts of keepsakes about you and your relationship. Is not going to be all over you in public, but as soon as you’re alone he’s in your arms and telling you how much he cares about you. If you’re ever sad he’s going to be cracking all sorts of jokes just to you see you smile before he asks you what happened. He’s so silly but so so sweet, you never go a day without laughing.

Jeongin: The sweetest and cutest! Obviously super smiley, but with you his smile is somehow even bigger. Loves to match with you and help pick out your outfits. I do think if his s/o was someone who got their nails done that he’d love to pick out the design. Always packs snacks for you in his practice bag and an extra hoodie in case you get cold. While he may not be the most openly affectionate, he quite literally brings you everywhere, you’re like his third arm. Peppers sweet little kissies all over your knuckles when you’re not paying attention to him. Laughs at all your jokes even if they’re not funny. Thinks you’re the cutest!! Sends all sorts of funny pictures when he’s away so you don’t miss him too much. Constantly teases you just so he can see you roll your eyes at him. Pulls you into every photobooth he sees. Buys a bottle of your perfume to bring with him on tour. Fusses over you all the time—fixing your clothes and making sure you’re warm enough. Acts all tough in front of his hyungs but as soon as you’re alone he’s begging for cuddles. Makes playlists of all your favorite songs to play when you’re in the car. I think he’ d be too shy to call you pet names but he always says your name so soft and sweet its like he’s calling you one. Sings every love song like they’re for you. If your hair is long enough to put up in a pony tail he will tug on it, not too hard or anything, but just enough for it to be annoying. Both his wallpaper and lock screen are of you all cuddled up together. Very in love with you and even if he doesn’t express it in words everyone around you knows.

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jyoongim · 8 months ago

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Hey there! My first time asking/making a request lol, but I had two separate ideas and you can just pick one or something.

First was an alastor w/ fem reader, it's mating season for red and this ones diff bc he's had his eyes on reader or smthn for a min and decides this season he's going to do his best to show off to her, lmao like "look look, I can provide and protect!" a bit intense bc it's mating season, but reader is CLUELESS until at some point it finally clicks and she's all "huh.. ohh SHIT"

Second idea was one that I thought would be funny, like so.. lucifer finds out Al likes reader and even tho he doesn't really like Al he's like " don't worry, I can definitely help with this" but he's lowkey a terrible wingman even tho miraculously it somehow helps in the end???

Again you can choose from either and end it however you want, fluff/nsfw/sfw. Or if none of this is your cup of tea then just ignore me!!

Not me on a fluff binge hehehhehe

hope you guys like it! I’ve been a bit slow to write and upload but I’ve enjoyed reading every request! I’m still taking a slight break but I try to give y’all SOMETHING. Hope y’all don’t mind!!

Lots of love-jyoongim

——————————————————————————————-

Mating season.

Usually an awful time of year that made Alastor more on edge than usual.

But something was different this year…

This mating season, the deer demon wanted a partner….

Alastor had his sights on a pretty doe and he was going to ensure that she was going to be his for the season…

—————————————————————————

You rubbed the sleep out your eyes as you greeted everyone as you took a seat for breakfast.

Pancakes. Bacon. Sausage. Eggs. Fruits.

Your stomach rumbled at the delicious smells.

”Fine hellish day isn’t my dear?” Alastor chirped as he piled food fruits and meats on your plate. You blinked at the amount of food on your plate.

”Al my stomach is only so big” you giggled causing the demon to hum as he took a seat beside you.

”A full belly makes a happy doe” he smiled as you happily ate the food.

Alastor watched as you ate, a soft purr rumbling in his chest.

”Why don’t we go for an outing dear?” Alastor suggested as you let out a burp.

You agreed.

It was rather chilly for Hell.

You and Alastor waltz around the city. You happily looked at the displays in many windows.

You didn’t know Alastor’s agenda but you didn’t mind accompanying him.

You must have lagged behind him a tad as a demon slithered up beside you as you looked over some jewelry.

”what’s a cute thing like you doing all alone?” A deep voice asked causing you jumped, surprised.

”O-Oh hi um I’m just looking that’s all” you gave a nervous smile. Your skiddish nature took over as you took a step back. The demon advanced on you. He was big, could easily overtake you if need be.

”Why don’t I show you around? I don’t see a ring. I can show you a good time” sharp teeth smiled at you menacingly.

Your ears flattened, you might be small but you could defend yourself. You bared your teeth at the demon making him chuckle

”Now now little lady lets not get ugly”

You hadn’t realized he had backed you into a corner.

The demon pounced, making you screech as he pinned you to the wall.

Your ears perked as heavy static buzzed through the air. The demon didn’t seem to notice

“You’ll make a fine piece of ass”

Black smoke poured through the alleyway and static popped.

”That’s no way to talk to a lady”

Black tentacles dragged the demon and blood-curdling screams escaped the demon, but were quickly silenced as Alastor ripped him apart.

”mine mine mine” Alastor growled as he chomped on the demon.

You gagged as chunks of flesh flew around.

Satisfied that the distasteful demon was in his belly, Alastor looked towards you.

A large sharp claw traced your face, he was growling but his eyes were soft. He morphed to be a bit smaller and helped you up, his red eyes roaming over you.

”I’m okay Al” you reassured giving him a smile. He seemed to calm down and looped your arm with his.

”dishonorable filfth” he hissed as he made his way back to the hotel. You pouted you really wanted to buy something but you’ve had enough excitement for one day.

You looked at Alastor and tilted your head “Al your antlers”

The usual small antlers were now big and standing tall on top his head.

”Nice rack” you giggled making the red demon smirk, his chest puffing proudly.

”than-thank you for all that. I really appreciate Al” you said sheepishly.

The tall demon hummed

“Don’t mention it my dear. What kind of man would I be if I couldn’t protect you?”

——————————————————————————

Alastor had been lingering around you since the little accident. He had growled at anyone who got too close to you.

He was very possessive and protective of you, which you thought was sweet that the demon was worried about you.

You groaned as the sun peaked through your window. You sat up and you blinked in confusion.

Flowers, breakfast, and a tiny box.

Rest up little Doe ~Alastor

Your tail wagged in happiness. You don’t know why Alastor had been so attentive but you were eating it up.

You placed the flowers in a vase and began to eat breakfast.

Your face wrinkled as you pulled a piece of meat from your teeth.

what the fuck?

It was soft and fleshy. You shuddered but ate the rest of your breakfast. You opened the tiny box and keened when you saw the bracelet you had been looking at earlier in the week.

There were cute little radio themed charms.

You quickly cleaned up and went downstairs.

Charlie and Vaggie were sitting in the lobby chatting.

You smiled and waved, your bracelet caught Vaggie’s attention.

”Hey where you get that?” The question also caught Charlie’s attention, she immediately began gushing

”Oh my! Did Alastor get that for you? Omg so cute!”

Vaggie deadpanned “Alastor have been very cozy towards you what’s that about?”

You shrugged “I don’t know but it can’t be anything bad right?”

————————————————————————————-

“I see you got my gift” Alastor said, coming behind you as you red on the couch. You smiled “Its really nice Al but why the sudden gift giving?”

Alastor smiled “well my dear its mating season”

You blinked. Mating season? What did that have to do-

OH SHIT!

Your eyes widened “Y-You’ve been…”

His lips pulled into a genuine smile “Courting you? Why of course my dear!”

His hand circled the wrist with the bracelet. He brought it up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it.

Your body shuddered in delight and your ears flicked as he nipped at your fingers.

Your nose wrinkled at the smell of his pheromones, your tail wagging.

You let out a purr as you rubbed yourself against him and took off running, throwing a wink at him as he followed suit, giggling as he made a grab at your hips as you evaded him.

”Come and solidify your place Mr. Radio Demon” you teased slipping into his room.

A soft growl escaped Alastor as he followed you and had his shadow guard the door.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #Alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x you

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shunsuiken · 9 months ago

Text

DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME (and in whose arms you’re gonna be).

pairing(s). kaeya, childe, ayato, kaveh, neuvillette x fem!reader

genre. fluff

wc. 200-400 for each character

an. AND SING WITH ME 🎤🎤 SO DARLING SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEE michael buble literally left no crumbs with this song i had to write about it omg + ALSO happy valentines day everyone !!! i may not have a valentine this year but im happy to post this for anybody feeling a little lonely today !! you are so so loved okay ?!!! come and collect a kiss from me before reading on 💋 MUAH have a lovely valentines day !!! <33

kaeya alberich

you’re really good at hiding, kaeya thinks to himself with a huff and a smile on his lips. searching all over the plaza for you was making him break a sweat in his navy blue tuxedo. with another turn around the corner he decides to remove his tuxedo jacket for the time being, folding it over his arm to carry instead.

“no, no, no klee! stop it! you can’t play with your things here, if you blow things up-”

“-master jean will put me in solitary confinement…”

oho, kaeya recognises these two voices very well. he finds it so hilarious that at the end, his feet lead him right to you! not even a single thought was processed as he turned the corner two seconds ago but here you are.

he hides behind the large potted plant, listening to the conversation you and the beloved spark knight share. he stays there until it becomes quiet between you two.

“kaeya, you peacock, i know it’s you.”

kaeya lets out a baffled noise, finally showing himself from behind the plant, offended by the ridiculous nickname you gave him. “snowflake, how dare you?”

“klee, don’t eavesdrop on people like this man when you grow older, yeah?” you point animatedly at your lover, who’s folding his arms and scoffing at you.

klee only giggles, nodding her head. “i gotta go find albedo now!” you watch as she skips off towards the plaza, waving goodbye.

you then turn towards your next problem that stands behind you. “i thought you were out dancing?”

“i was, but they’ll start playing the last dance soon and how can my last dance not be with you?” your lover walks towards you, pulling you closer by your waist with his free arm. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, smiling softly at his intentions.

you hear an announcement echoing from the plaza before you can reply, and you figure it might have been mika because of how timid the voice sounded.

“good evening everyone, please bring all your friends and company over for the last dance of the night!”

“sounds like our queue.” you slide your arms off his shoulder to grab his hand, pulling him with you without warning.

“oh snowflake, hold on-” kaeya almost trips on air and the sounds of your laughter bounce off the concrete floor and walls as you drag him down the staircase leading to the plaza.

childe

you can never refuse ajax’s request for a dance, because he won’t take no for an answer. especially when it comes to dancing. your feet hurt so much. you’re so ready to just fall on top of your bed and go to sleep. but the only thing that keeps you wide awake, heart pumping and everything is the look on your lover's face.

his gaze usually has this inhumane and dull look to them, but you find that whenever he looks at you or when he participates in something he loves, his gaze finally twinkles. it works so miraculously too. like all of a sudden life was returned to him and he could see.

the smile on your lips grows when you think about this. you think it’s sweet how you’re one of the reasons that the life in his eyes returns.

ajax notices the tighter grip you hold on his forearm, making his lips curl in curiosity. “what’s going on in your head, baby?”

you zone in on the situation, you’re still dancing, and you shake your head in response. “nothing, ajax.” you want to keep your thoughts to yourself but when ajax smiles at you like that, with the most expectant look on his face, you can’t help yourself. “actually, i just thought about the dance.”

he twirls you around to the music before connecting arms with you again. “you just thought about the dance?” his brow quirks in amusement.

“no, no not like that,” you say with a sheepish chuckle before continuing, “i just thought that this number is the longest one so far.”

“well of course,” ajax responds with an eye smile. “it’s the last song.”

“it… is?” you look up at ajax while trying to fight the urge to look anywhere else.

if this is the last song… and you’re dancing with him… then that can only mean-

when the choreography allows ajax to pull you against his chest, he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “you will be my final dance partner tonight.”

kamisato ayato

these few days at fontaine have been strumming the strings of your heart like a guitar—ayato has been spending so much time with you that you’re beginning to think of such ridiculous conclusions. his eyes that linger on your face, his hand that hovers on the small of your back when leading you out of a hall and it’s just these little things that he does with you that makes you want to claw an entire curtain off its rod. one time he even poured you a glass of wine before taking a sip with the same glass—it’s like he’s forgotten he’s the yashiro commissioner!

thoma and ayaka barely bat an eye. but also, they’ve known ayato for much longer than you have since you were a recent (and lovely) addition to the little family. so… perhaps this is just how he acts?

“uh-huh, when he’s courting someone that is.”

the sentence that thoma said offhandedly is the only thing that rings through your mind. but your thoughts must’ve shone through your expression because ayato is quick on his feet to smoothly guide you off the dance floor, gloved hand still holding yours as he brings you to a less crowded area—the balcony.

“you appeared to be distracted, that’s why i pulled us away,” ayato breaks the silence and your train of thoughts.

he’s still holding my hand—is what you’re repeating in your head. your eyes can barely focus on a single object within your field of vision. your bottom lip quivers at the revelation you’re carefully starting to uncover.

“i am not distracted,” you inhale sharply when you accidentally meet ayato’s gaze. “i…” your brows crease as you try to get words out of your mouth.

ayato brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and you can physically feel the blood rush up to your fingertips. “would my lady like to return to the hotel?”

your voice leaves your throat in but a hoarse whisper, “what did you just call me?”

you hear a chuckle from ayato and it makes you snap your head around in embarrassment. this new term of endearment rolls off his tongue way too easily, the rascal must have been practicing!

“oh no, no, no, my lady, you must look at me,” a grin appears on ayato’s face at your attempts to hide your expression and when he finally gets you to look at him, you’re caged between his arms.

“why would you call me that?” you whine at his teasing.

“well i just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore,” ayato murmurs, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks. “will you allow me to call you that?”

kaveh

three hours. it’s been three hours since you and kaveh decided to learn a cute couples dance routine ‘for funsies’. whose idea was this again? weren’t you two supposed to be just friends? doesn’t kaveh have a client meeting tomorrow that he should be preparing for?

“so we do this—then this and then we’re supposed to oh—!”

the silence is deafening. the song playing in the background fades as you both stare at each other, even mirroring the same expression. eyes as wide as saucers. lips just inches from connection.

kaveh’s breath fans over your lips and you can hear the audible gulp he makes at the closeness. he’s also entirely aware that the red in his cheeks has reached his ears by now. while you, on the other hand, have started hearing the percussion of your heart in your own eardrums.

“o-oh…” your legs are frozen in place and hang on a second, why haven’t either of you let go?

his hand is respectfully sat on your waist, while the other is occupied holding your hand. you hear him inhale and it grabs your attention before you can get anymore lost in his gaze. his gaze observes your lovely face, eyes flickering from one feature to another as he whispers, “has anybody ever told you you’re pretty up close?”

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no.”

kaveh likes this answer, humming as he ponders for a moment.

your eyes sparkle when that handsome smile of his appears on his lips. he chuckles shortly at your expression, your palm feels so warm when connected with his.

“i’m glad i’m the first to tell you.”

neuvillette

“oh dear, neuvillette,” you chuckle softly, walking towards him as he takes another sip of his water. he stands in a more secluded corner of the hall, briefly greeting guests with a nod of the head. which is why he stands out like a sore thumb—arctic white hair, designer blue suit and a piercing gaze.

but that gaze doesn’t fool you. the dragon sovereign is probably pondering on retiring for the night and is only still present to keep up with appearances.

“yes, lady y/n?” it’s to nobody’s surprise that he heard you from metres away.

when he turns around, your eyes immediately land on the problem you’ve sensed since you returned from the dancefloor.

“your tie,” you reply, standing in front of his figure, nonchalantly raising your hands in preparation to adjust the garment. “will you allow me to fix it?”

the gears in neuvillette’s mind pause abruptly at your question. he certainly has no problem readjusting his own tie. his hands aren’t holding anything else other than his cup of water—which he can definitely put down on a nearby table!

but why can’t he bring himself to say no?

the ‘of course’ leaves his lips faster than he would have liked, but that’s no matter, your expression shows no sign of displeasure. instead, he watches your sweet smile brighten.

when your fingers reach the tie, neuvillette notices how you tiptoe to reach him. so he does what any normal person would do—he leans down.

it catches you off guard, the tips of your fingers just slightly grazing against his neck in the process. you profusely apologise in whispers to which neuvillette can only chuckle at.

“it is no trouble lady y/n, i appreciate the kind gesture.” the corner of neuvillette’s lips curve, his hands neatly tucked behind him as he allows you to redo his tie.

neuvillette’s lips only seem to further break into a smile as he watches you pat on the tie in completion.

“there, all finished.” you look up at the iudex, chuckling, “you ought to learn how to do this yourself.”

neuvillette hums, “perhaps you could teach me.” he takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before kissing it. “but for now a dance shall suffice, would you care to join me?”

#kaeya x reader #childe x reader #ayato x reader #kaveh x reader #neuvillette x reader #kaeya fluff #childe fluff #ayato fluff #kaveh fluff #neuvillette fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff

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t1red-twilight · 6 months ago

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hey! could i please request “you’re so short.” “i’ll kick your knees in” from your prompts list?

if you can could you do something like the insulting each other is them flirting and neither of them realise? i’m an absolute sucker for that kind of stuff. if not then totally okay take your own lead with it i’m sure it’ll be great either way!

i love your writing 🫶🏻

ankle biter

summary: “you’re so short” “i’ll kick your knees in.”

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, reader is short, cursing (like one), dadcore hotch

notes: thank you so much for the request! i assumed you meant spencer from the mgg pfp 🫡 i really appreciate your support. i hope you have a lovely day<3333

word count: 0.6k

masterlist s. r. masterlist

you’re not the tallest person, but you’re by far not the shortest person. it was never something that you paid attention to. sure, pants shopping was hard. the proportions of your body didn’t align with popular styles, but it wasn’t a huge deal (it was, but you’d never admit it).

spencer had come to realize how inconvenienced you were by your height, even when you didn’t. at first, he liked getting things off of the tall shelves when you couldn’t quite reach.

he was flattered, in a way? there was no possible other reason. definitely not; it for sure was not the soft thank you’s that you’d give him with a gentle smile.

eventually, you noticed some patterns. you’d put your mug on the lowermost shelf, and then the next day it would miraculously transport to the top shelf.

given that you were a profiler, you caught on pretty quickly. spencer would always leave the office right after you, right before sprinting to the elevator to join you.

and, if you stayed late to do paperwork, he would arrive at work extra early the next day. it was obvious: spencer thought that you being short was hilarious and delighted in seeing you struggle vertically.

you confronted him with a mildly upset, “why do you keep moving my mug?” he hadn’t said anything after that. he blinked at you widely with his soft, round puppy eyes. the exchange ended after that.

he did not stop moving your mugs. in fact, he upgraded to hiding your paperwork, your stapler, your sticky notes. everything; and, they were all upon tall perches that only he could reach.

you tried talking to hotch, but he had just flattened his lips into a line and walked off.

“you’re so short,” he had smiled coyly down at you.

with an incredulous look, you replied: “i’ll kick your knees in, pipecleaner.”

“okay, ankle biter. i’d like to see you try.” he stepped closer to you. his exhales could be felt against your cheeks, just barely. he was squatting, taunting you.

you never did find your sticky notes.

presently, you were waltzing into the office. extra early, you were prepared to score your mug without the help of one very tall boy genius.

he wasn’t at his desk: finally! you had won!

alas, when you meandered into the kitchenette, your mug was nowhere to be found. when you were about to give up and admit defeat, you saw a flash of a familiar color out of the corner of your eye.

there it was.

your mug was on top of the shelves. you didn’t even think spencer would stoop that low (high?), but he had.

placed delicately on your mug, was a sticky note. written on it was a heart and “s.r.”

dragging your feet, you made your way back to the bullpen. and, there he was. with an innocent look on his face.

like a kicked puppy, you slunk over to his desk.

“hi, honey. you need anything?”

“you’re sure they're not dating? or at least fucking?” emily was in disbelief. she had seen the two of you flirt for months. she, akin to the rest of your colleagues, could not take it any longer.

“nope,” derek took a sip of his coffee. “they definitely are not. we would have noticed.”

“but, it so obvious. why don’t we just-” at this, hotch butted in.

he stepped in the way of morgan’s and prentiss’ view. his arms were crossed and his face was in the same stern expression that it always seemed to be in. “don’t mess with it. they’ll get together eventually.”

morgan and prentiss spoke over each other. “how are you so sure?” and, “how do you know?”

“because if garcia doesn’t pull any strings, lord help me i will.”

they all turned and stared at spencer’s delighted expression: he had retrieved your mug and you were trying your hardest to seem as angry as you could as he dangled it over your head.

there was a pause. “now get back to work.”

#lee’s writing <3 #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #x reader #fluff

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inuyashaluver · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing so much!!

Can I request something for Leah Williamson? Like Leah and Popstar!reader has been in a secret relationship and in the reader’s music video she has to kiss/being intimate with an actress (sort of like “Justin Bieber - Mistletoe”music video) Leah become jealous, although reader has explained that the song was for Leah and it was just acting. So in the next music video (I pictured it like “Dan + Shay, Justin Bieber - 10,000 hours” music video) Leah be in the music video and kinda hard launch to the world about being married to the reader.

So, maybe cute jealous Leah and fluffy ending?

(You don’t have to use the same music video reference, it just what gave me this idea☺️)

Thank you, and if you don’t want to write my request it’s okay.. no pressure!

hard launch - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your wife gets jealous when you kiss a man in your music video for your new album, so you give her a special one instead

warnings: swearing, jealous leah, slightly angsty idk

a/n: hiya, lovey! i hope you don’t mind but i switched the request around a teensy bit just for plot! ily and thank you for the love and request❤️ mixed feelings again lmao

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your wife, leah were each other’s biggest fans, but in a relatively secret manner, only the people closest to you knew about the two of you and that was how you liked it.

you and leah met at the brit’s years ago when you were seated next to each other. someone on stage said something quite unhinged and you both glanced at each other in disbelief.

“what the fuck?” you mouth to the girl next to you, she places a hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh but both of you break out into silent giggles.

after that, you both followed each other on instagram and she miraculously got your number. you both started chatting, finding out you lived 10 minutes from each other. you always met up for lunch or anytime whenever the two of you were free and it steadily progressed into a romantic relationship.

you’d been together for over 7 years, wanting to keep your lives private as you were both highly influential people in the media. you, a popstar and leah, a star football player.

and like the media always does, they ruin things. often. so, you and leah made an agreement to keep your relationship a secret, your wedding was quiet, your nearest and dearest all in attendance.

—

you and leah brought out the best in each other, and everyone noticed it. everytime you and leah got interviewed, it was one of the top comments that you and leah respectively were much happier recently. both of you always saying, “it’s just a happy day” with an identical smile.

if people did put two and two together, you and leah wouldn’t confirm nor deny your relationship. you and leah would put on subtle disguises when supporting each other, whether it was at an event or a football match, the two of you would make an effort to be there no matter what.

you both genuinely loved each other and that was all that mattered to the both of you. through a large, mutual respect and trust with one another, it worked.

—

when leah tore her acl, she was at home all the time, you took some time off music to support her and she was eternally grateful for you. when she’d cry, you kiss her cheek and tell her everything was going to be okay.

you took her to rehab, to training, to get late night snacks. whatever she wanted, you did it for her, knowing well enough that she would do the same.

all the time at home together made you both giddy amongst all the sadness of the injury. leah claimed she wouldn’t have been able to do anything without you, expressing her gratitude everyday through lazy kisses and prolonged embraces that had your hearts synched in unison.

in an attempt to express your unconditional love for your wife, you decided to make a secret album dedicated to her. once she was asleep, you would slip out of her embrace and write songs until your hand was tired and your eyes were sore.

leah was by far your biggest inspiration and you wanted her to know that.

when you would finish writing for the night, you’d hop back into the welcoming arms of your wife. she’d immediately settle on your chest, her body rising and falling as she slept soundly.

you worked on the album the entire duration of recovery for leah, impressed with how you were able to keep the secret for so long, considering she always had the ability to coax something out of you when she’d give you that attractive smirk as she’d tower over you.

once she’d recovered and made her comeback, you knew the album needed to be released, so, you put out a poster advertising it on instagram, a major yet subtle nod to leah, featuring one of her newest tattoos.

leah sees you’ve posted something on instagram since she has your notifications on, her heart stops when she recognises her tattoo, she smiles brightly that day, rushing home from training to ask you all about it.

—

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yourname: my new album, ‘home’ is coming very soon! dedicated to a special person in my life, my biggest inspiration ever, i love you xx

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—

“baby!” leah calls out from the door, her keys clanging on the kitchen counter as she searches for you. you’re sitting in the living room on the couch, bundled up in one of her hoodies while you drink a tea.

“hi, love” you smile lazily at her, she looks at you full of adoration, sitting next to you on the couch and carefully taking the mug from your hands and placing it on the coffee table. she takes both of your hands in hers, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips.

“hi, beautiful” leah smiles against your lips, placing little kisses there before pulling away to look at you. “has my girl been making an album without telling me?” leah narrows her eyes at you, placing a hand on your thigh when you kick your legs into her lap.

“maybe” you shrug teasingly, causing the blonde to groan in annoyance. “oh come on, man!” leah huffs, you raise your eyebrows at her amusingly, kissing her cheek affectionately causing a little smirk to play on her lips.

“alright i’ll tell you,” you give up when she gives you her best puppy dog eyes, “the album’s for you, i’ve been writing it throughout your recovery and a couple of songs are coming out over the next three days before i release the full thing” you inform her, fiddling with the fingers of her free hand.

“it’s for me?” leah breathes out surprisingly, attempting to move closer so she was pressed up against you, “it’s for you” you affirm, puckering your lips up for a quick kiss.

she instantly closes the gap, the kiss more passionate than you expected, causing you to whine into her mouth when she pulls you to straddle her lap. the kiss is bruising, it makes you both dizzy with affection when your lips and tongues move against each other.

in need of air, she pulls away and rests her forehead against yours, her breath fanning against your lips as she holds you close. you lean back to look at her, pushing away the stray hairs adorning her face that had fallen from her loose ponytail.

“i’ll take it you’re excited then?” you tease, placing a hand on her cheek and smiling softly at her, she nods and moves her head to kiss the palm of your hand, “more than excited” she teases back, moving to kiss you again and taking your breath away completely.

—

it was the day one of your first songs got released, labelled : ‘softly’ (by clairo - highly recommend this banger, listen and check out the lyrics!!). the music video was filmed months ago and it was cute. you thought she’d love it, but the girl sitting next to you while she watched wasn’t overly excited as much as you thought she would be.

the song was beautiful and she loved it, it was the music video that had a funny feeling bubbling in her chest. in the music video, you and a close friend of yours, a male actor had been exploring a random part of london, goofing off, slow dancing in the street, sharing a coffee and leah was fine with that, it was ‘whatever’. until the very end of the video where you shared a quick kiss before the screen turned black.

leah had an unreadable expression on her face, sitting next to you, cross-armed while her eyes were trained on the tv in your shared living room. she prods her tongue on the inside of her cheek before she clenches her jaw.

“lee, baby” you say nervously, testing out the waters, she doesn’t look at you, her eyes still on the tv. “leah?” you place a hand on her shoulder and she shrugs it off, standing up to run off to the bathroom.

she was fuming to say the least, she knew it meant nothing but there was just something about seeing you kiss someone else that made her immensely jealous and she couldn’t admit it to you.

you sigh when you hear the bathroom lock click, she never does that. you say to yourself you’re giving her space but it took you the span of 1 minute to rush to the door and sit down in front of it, your back pressed against it while you waited for her.

you hear the distant lull of the shower and you pout, picking at your nails at the thought of her being upset with you. when she was done, she opened the door and you fell back, staring up at her with wide eyes before scrambling to get off the floor.

“you okay?” you breathe out, the blonde just nods, moving past you and sitting on the bed, her back resting against the headboard while she scrolled on her phone, reading all the comments on your song.

all of them talking about how cute the video was, a couple confused as to why you casted a man as the love interest for a song clearly about a female.

you breathe out shakily before sitting next to her, picking at your nails again until leah broke the silence, “don’t do that” she reprimands softly, looking down at her phone again. “sorry” you mumble, head hanging low as you stare at your hands in your lap.

“have i done something?” you question nervously, the girl just shakes her head, placing her phone down and looking at you. her scowl was gone and instead somewhat of a pout was hinting on her lips.

your eyes slightly widen when you take in her appearance, she was jealous. you fight extremely hard to conceal your smile as you watch her amusingly, ready to see her crack under the pressure.

“did you really have to kiss a man?” leah clenches her jaw with a roll of her eyes when she hears your stifled giggles escaping your mouth. “baby-” you start, promptly interrupted but a frustrated looking leah, “a man? the songs about me!” leah scoffs in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at you expectantly.

“don’t smile” leah grits out, but you can’t stop, moving to sit in her lap as she frowns.

you try to untangle her arms but she’s extremely strong, deciding to place a hand on her shoulder while the other cards through her hair. she tries incredibly hard not to hum at the contact, staring into your eyes through her furrowed brows.

“the song is about you, i kissed a gay man by the way, i just thought he’d be a good fit for the video but the song is clearly about a certain pretty blonde that i love” you say sarcastically, leah untangling her arms and pinching your hip warningly.

“i love you and i only love you” you say reassuringly, peppering her face with little kisses which causes her to break out in a little smile.

“i liked the song” she sighs, leaning into your body for comfort that you happily give to her.

“i’m glad” you smile, nudging her nose with your own and giggling when it crinkles up.

“still doesn’t change the fact that you kissed a man when you have a wife” she exaggerates, her scowl making its way to her face again. you smile at her affectionately, “a gay man” you groan, “are you sure? you’re really hot and could easily make someone question themselves” leah says simply, checking you out shamelessly.

you roll your eyes and give her a chaste kiss, “yes, leah, he’s gay and i’ll happily kiss my wife that i love so much” you smile cheekily, making the blonde huff out a laugh and pull you closer into a passionate kiss.

it completely takes your breath away when she pulls away, you pant and just look at each other for a moment. she’s happy for a second until she remembers you locking lips with that man, she doesn’t care if he’s gay, it scarred her.

“so grumpy” you mumble, reaching up and running your thumb over the wrinkled skin. “i don’t care, it should’ve been me,” she huffs, she’s completely unaware of what you have under your sleeve. “i love you” you quip, she replies without skipping a beat, “i love you too”

with a couple more shared kisses and reassuring words, leah got over it.

—

two days later, the video you’d been excited yet nervous about was finally about to be released. you’d been working on not only the song but the music video extremely hard.

the song was called ‘leah’ (actually ur so pretty by wasia project), it was different from your usual music but it felt right. you nervously sat with leah on the couch, bundled up under a blanket together as you cuddled.

leah could sense your nervousness, she’d run her hand up and down your arm in attempts to calm down but this was literally a hard launch and you didn’t know how she would react.

the video gets uploaded and you nervously move the remote towards the video to click on it.

“leah?” the girl mumbles in slight shock, you lean into her, kissing her cheek quickly before pressing play. the opening chords of the piano had leah’s heart already lurching.

the video is an edited video of you and leah throughout the years. all of them filmed by you. it had videos from your dates, at home, cuddling, sleeping, kissing, everything.

‘you’re so pretty, when you smile it kills me’

your voice sings out, leah immediately tenses against you. tears were already filling in both of your eyes, leah holds onto you tightly, completely engrossed on the screen and your voice.

‘can’t stop thinking, about the way you kissed me, under the stars’

leah laughs fondly at some of the silly videos in video, a full play by play of your relationship presented to the world in the most beautiful way. when it gets to the more recent moments of your relationship, leah squeezes you gently, her breath hitching when footage of your wedding plays. you’re both crying at this point.

‘you’re the only person left, so hold me. don’t leave me’

your song finishes, the final clip you and leah sharing your first kiss as a married couple, smiling brightly with each other and walking down the aisle together excitedly before a picture of you and leah is left on the screen and then turning into a black screen.

you in leah sit in silence just crying, she pulls you into a tight embrace, her face tucked into the crook of your neck as her tears pool out of her eyes.

��i love you, i love you so much” she cries, holding onto you tightly like you could disappear at any moment.

“i love you so much, lee” you sniffle with an affectionate giggle, cradling the girl’s head to you as you held onto each other tightly.

after the long embrace, she pulls back to look at you, kissing you sweetly before pulling away again to smile lovingly at you. “sorry for the hard launch” you giggle, wiping the remnants of tears on her cheeks with your thumb. “thank you for the hard launch” she teases, kissing you again.

“the rest of the album is out” you remind and she perks up, “what are we waiting for then?” she exclaims, making you lie on top of her while she plays the album.

“there’s 10 songs, lee, we don’t need to listen to all of it now” you say sheepishly, “such a sap, lovey, 10 whole songs for me? i’m so lucky” she teases, kissing the crown of your head. “of course we need to listen now, i need to support my official wag” you smile up at her, kissing her gently while the sounds of your album drown out in the background.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by alessiarusso99 and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: stream my WIFE’S new album she made for me, best present ever

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yourname: my wifey

↳ leahwilliamsonn: my pretty wife

yourname: remember when you got mad i kissed a gay man

↳ leahwilliamsonn: time out.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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kingofbodyrolls · 5 months ago

Text

End of the World (m) | myg | teaser

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise? → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: science fiction, apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut. �� Tropes: strangers to lovers, forced proximity (because love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: still writing (approx 10-20k) it’s a one-shot! → Author’s note: hiya. I’m currently writing this apocalyptic story with Yoongi, because… well. I’m fucking scared. So this is me working through and with my fear for something that I’m afraid is actually going to happen. We don’t need to talk about it, because a lot of bad shit is happening all over the world 😭 This is purely a story, though made up by my fears, yeah. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re not into it! The vibe for it is like The Last of Us and maybe a bit Fallout, I think if you enjoy that type of stuff, you’ll enjoy this one too. But it’s really heavy, but there’s a decent amount of fluff to balance it out, because, it’s still a fanfiction and it wouldn’t be that without some good old fluff and smut 🥰

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there.

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat as parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step.

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat.

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September?

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by the war, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

→ Do you want to join Yoongi on a quest for survival as the world crumbles around you? Let me know and I’ll tag you when it drops 💜

Also please let me know if you’re interested, excited about it— otherwise I’m probably just gonna post it on my ao3 only, lol. I’m scared 🫣

Read the second teaser + book cover [here]!

It's been posted!!!!

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wonwayne · 11 months ago

Text

how enha takes care of you ☁️

pairing : ot7 x gn!reader genre : fluff, comfort, humor warnings : mentions of food word count : 1k

a/n : requested by anon! kind of kicked it off with this hee drabble but had so much fun writing for all the members. for today’s purposes, let’s keep y/n sick and alone in their apartment 🫶

💭 heeseung

my little philosophy is that significant others can be two types of caregivers — one actively tries to treat your illness, the other is emotional support

each has their own merit ofc

but hee is miraculously both

sincerely believes he can rizz you to health

he’s being a bit selfish, he worries, for making you smile all the time

because it heals him more than it heals you

but he makes up for it by making sure you eat like a king (for all three meals a day!) until you feel better

also cuddles with you in bed to keep you warm

if whatever you have is contagious, he is definitely getting it

last but certainly not least: he sings to you. acoustic covers + snippets of his self-produced music, you’re getting it all 😌

almost makes you wish you were sick more often

💭 jay

arrives at your place with like fifty grocery bags (okay maybe not fifty, but… a lot)

big believer in sleep as the best medicine so he lets you be for the most part

but as soon as you wake up and come down to the living room

say hello to a FEAST

literally no room left on the dining table and he’s still doing something in the kitchen????

“jay i can’t… consume all of this” “don’t worry, eat as much as you want for now and i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge”

at this point what is there left to say except “can you just be my husband already”

you’re about to dig in and suddenly he’s standing over you giving you the death stare

“... did i… do something wrong?” “seriously?” your heart stops before he goes, “what happened to my thank you kiss?”

UGH he’s such a softie

💭 jake

is worried SICK and cannot hide it

refuses to leave your bedroom once he first enters it unless absolutely necessary — must stay by your side at all times !!

not the most experienced but the effort is very much there

“should we take the medicine together? would that be easier?” and you KNOW he hates taking medicine

“babe why would you take nyquil. you don’t have a cold.” “idk it can’t hurt can it?” it very much can (don’t do this kids)

he drinks it with you anyway (clinks the medicine cups and says “cheers!”… what are you going to do with this man) and tries his best to fight the drowsiness

ends up dozing with his head on your lap, kneeling by the bed

peak puppy position i tell you PEAK

💭 sunghoon

what matters is not so much how he takes care of you but how he looks so good while taking care of you: simple white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up just to the elbows, hair slicked back a little from washing his face, setting damp towels on your forehead and his forearm veins emerging as he wrings them… help me

it’s the wuthering heights bedridden cathy victorian era aesthetic okay

speaking of books why do i get the feeling that sunghoon would read to you

or simply talk to you about his day or childhood memories or anything to keep you comfortable and entertained

idk i feel like he’d want to remind you of his presence in a “i’m here for you” type of way but without being intrusive… is not at all offended when you fall asleep to his voice

don’t you just love when sunghoon.

💭 sunoo

i have one very specific idea for sunoo and i’m kinda obsessed with it

MINT. TEA. (if you know you know… mint tea is the sinus relief GOD)

and ofc as our resident mint choco lover, how could he not

“baby i made something for you!” you peer into the mug and you’re like 🤨 “you didn’t add chocolate syrup to this did you” “wtf i’m not a monster why would i do that??”

his discography and food preferences beg to differ but he truly does give you pure, steaming mint tea

it is so perfect i promise you will fall in love with him all over again

mint aside we all know this man is a human vitamin like i cannot imagine you staying sick for long

no need to binge tv (it makes your head hurt more anyway), just have sunoo spill all the drama to you for seven hours straight and you’ll be good to go

💭 jungwon

makes you wonder, did this boy have a medical degree this entire time and just not tell me??

knows exactly which medications help with which symptoms, gives you all the immune boosting foods, pulls up with a weighted blanket and a heating pad and a plushie to hug— you’re getting the best sleep of your life no question about it

listens to you so well “i miss what it was like to breathe” “it’s frustrating, isn’t it? as soon as one nostril clears, the other fills up, and it never seems to end” “YES ohmy— [cough] god, yes, you get it :(”

at the same time i think won is the most likely to avoid skinship when you’re sick bc yeah that stuffy nose does not sound fun

is smart about it though; prepares a bubble bath for you and then sets up the heating pad and everything on your bed while you’re in the bath

becomes 143x touchier once you’re back to normal (“i missed squishing your cheeks” “i missed squishing your cheeks!”)

💭 niki

crashes at your place to make sure you’re having a good time

it’s either you watching him game or movie marathon together

you don’t say it but you are so inordinately grateful that he’s caring enough to chill with you on days like these, you know he’d rather do dates outside and play pranks on you every other hour, but he’s giving that up just for you

would share a tub of ice cream with you if you’re craving it, although he voices his concerns first “is it… right to eat cold stuff when you have a cold?” “it defrosts in my mouth don’t worry” “okay you do you”

basically a good old sleepover

every time he checks your temperature he sings his part in fever (he’s humorous like that)

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wildrangers · 5 months ago

Text

In the Blink of a Crinkling Eye // Matt Smith

Word Count: 2.8K

Fem Journalist x Matt Smith

{This is truly just the longest meet cute because they’re my favorite thing to write}

Warnings: None besides cursing and use of Y/N; smut in part two

“Clover, no!” you chastise, rushing to grab the puppy who’d somehow escaped the holding pen your team built. You’d wanted to be a journalist for as long as you could remember but this wasn’t quite what you’d imagined yourself doing–wrangling puppies while waiting for your interview subjects to arrive.

“She’s a clever one, isn’t she?” you hear a deep, amused voice say from behind you.

“I wouldn’t give her too much credit, I’m sure Daisy and Willow helped her out” you reply, your eyes unexpectedly meeting curious hazel ones. “Is everything okay?”

His brows furrow, “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

You glance down at your phone, holding the wriggly puppy closer to your chest to avoid a kamikaze situation. “Because no one’s due on set for another half hour.”

“I can leave if you’d like,” he offers, his smile turning uncertain.

“No, of course not” you shake your head, offering your free hand to him, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Matt, lovely to meet you. I couldn’t resist coming out to get some extra time with these little guys” he grins, releasing your hand only to hold his palms up. “Clover, right?”

“Yes, she’s litter mates with Willow and Daisy,” you reply, pointing them out in their pen after handing Clover to him. “And then there’s Leo, Frankie, and Gertrude. They’re all from different litters, the last of their siblings in the shelter.”

“Poor little things” Matt coos, gently placing Clover back where she belongs before reaching down to grab one of the strays.

“Wait, no not her” you jump in, scooping Gertrude into your arms before Matt can.

“Is she nippy or something?” he asks, head quirking in confusion.

“No, I think I might be taking her home today. I wouldn’t want you to get too attached.”

Matt throws his head back in laughter, “Hazards of the job I suppose?”

“Kind of” you shrug, gently stroking Gertrude’s soft fur. “My roommate’s been begging for a pet for months now and little Trudy here is just too sweet.” Seemingly in response, the little dog lifts her head to briefly lick your chin before settling in for a nap in your arms.

“Now that is too precious,” Matt says, smiling softly and retrieving his phone from his pocket. “Want me to take a photo?”

“I’m sure I look a mess, I’ve been running around all morning” you laugh.

“Nonsense, you look great. Trust me, you’ll want this–smile!” he cheers and you laugh looking into the camera. “Gorgeous” he compliments and you ignore the swoop of your stomach.

“Let me see” you request, moving to his side as he angles his screen towards you. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that while you look flushed from running around, your hair and makeup have miraculously stayed in place. “Aw, doesn’t she look too cute? All tuckered out already.”

“What’s your number? I can forward you this if you’d like” he offers and you do something you’ve never done before–flirt with a guest.

“If you wanted my number you could’ve just asked from the get go” you tease, eyes flicking up to meet his.

His smile curls up higher on one side, “Well you see, now I’ll have your number and this beautiful photo for your contact.”

“Well played then” you reply, listing off your number for him. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket but don't move from his side.

“How long have you been working with Buzzfeed?” he questions, turning to face you directly.

“A little over a year, it’s certainly a unique place to have landed.”

“You don’t like it” he replies instantly and your eyes widen.

“I didn’t say that…”

“But it’s what you mean, no?” he pushes, not breaking eye contact.

“Why, are you aiming to take my job?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, not offering you a way out except to answer the question.

“I’m a writer. So, ideally one of my books or screenplays end up in the right hands. Or, if not, I’d really like to do print work. Spending lots of time with someone, or a group of someones, and writing a more in depth piece about their process, the work, whatever. Like, we got the screener for the first half of this season, right? You know how many questions I want to ask about the cinematography or an acting choice, or a certain shot? Instead, we have these cutesy questions prepared.”

That makes him laugh but you feel vulnerable, exposed after offering so much to a stranger, especially one you’re meeting at work. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t professional of me. I really do appreciate this job.”

“Hey, no apologies. I’m the one that asked, aren’t I? I appreciate your honesty.”

You nod, a slightly awkward silence descending between you. Matt breaks it by leaning down to pick up Leo who promptly bites his finger.

“Shit, are you okay?” you ask, biting your lips to repress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. Matt’s face is the portrait of shock and outrage even though you can tell Leo’s teeth barely broke his skin.

“I think I’m alright” he replies, seriously inspecting his finger and a little giggle escapes your mouth. His eyes leap up to yours and his frown deepens at the amusement he sees on your face. “Well, go on then.”

At his begrudging permission, you burst into laughter settling a now grumpy Gertrude into her pen. You make your way back to where the first aid kit is, your sides turning sore from laughter that won’t cease. You wave Matt over and he morosely makes his way to you, plopping down in the seat you direct him towards.

“I’m sorry” you offer as you sit opposite him, unzipping the bag. “It’s really not even that funny but now I just have the giggles.”

“You’re forgiven, if only because your laugh is the most joyous sound I’ve heard all day.”

His compliment does what his annoyance couldn’t–rips the laughter from your throat. You gaze into his eyes, expecting to see jest but find none. “That’s kind of you.”

“It’s the truth.”

A different kind of tension simmers in this silence. “May I?” you request, reaching for him. His calloused hand lands in yours and you lean closer, inspecting the tiny cut on his pointer finger. You pull an alcohol wipe from the kit and wrap it as gently as you can around his cut before quickly replacing it with a bandage. “Good as new.”

“You could look into nursing you know” he responds gently and you meet his intense gaze. The moment seems to stretch eternally with you lost in the green and brown shades of his eyes. A door slams open, jarring you two apart and making you realize you’d been holding onto his hand just as it slips away.

“Looks like it’s show time” you force a smile as you stand. “Think you can manage with this grievous injury?”

He returns your smile, nodding, “I think so but have the medics on standby just in case.”

***

Luckily, the interview goes smoothly, jokes being made all around at Matt’s injury and another round unleashing when he’s nipped again while filming. As you drive home, Gertrude beside you, you work to convince yourself you’d been imagining things. That Matt had simply been friendly and naturally charismatic, not that there’d been any kind of spark. And that he most definitely hadn't lingered after you’d thanked him and his castmates, eyes boring into your back, before finally following them out onto the New York City streets. And you certainly weren’t still lost in those thoughts as you placed the wiggly puppy in your roommate, Sage’s, arms.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“She almost got swept up by Matt Smith” you joke and her eyes widen.

“I forgot that was today, how was it?”

“Good, everything went smoothly.”

“...but?”

“But what?”

“But why does your face look like that?”

“Fuck you, it was a long day.”

“Bullshit” she argues and you glare at her. “I’ll wait.”

“I was just deluding myself that’s all.” She waits expectantly and you sigh, throwing up your hands. “I had myself half convinced that Matt Smith tried to sweep me up.”

“Tell me everything.”

And you would have, if your phone didn’t buzz in your pocket. Sage pointedly rolls her eyes as you pause the conversation to check your phone just in case it’s a work issue. Your heart drops which must’ve reflected on your face because she’s beside you, reading over your shoulder, a second later.

Hi it’s Matt

Well, you know that obviously.

I mean to ask, are you free tonight?

“Tell me everything right the fuck now Y/N/N or I swear to God.” You quickly fill her in, all while attempting to decide what to do. “Just answer, see why he’s asking.”

“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?”

The look Sage shoots you could melt steel, “Respectfully, you primarily do puppy interviews at Buzzfeed. Answer him.” You couldn’t argue with her logic even though you wanted to.

I just got home but have nothing in the books. Why do you ask?

Would you want to meet with us at a pub near our hotel? Everyone loved working with you.

Who’s everyone?

You do love questions, don’t you?

Emboldened by having a screen between you, you allow him to see you’d read the message on What’s App but don’t type a reply. Within a moment, he begins typing again:

All of us, but especially me.

One condition

Anything.

I can ask you about the Harrenhal sequences

Off the record of course

That’s all? You shouldn’t be thinking so small.

I want to make sure I have you in my thrall a bit more before asking for your banking information.

Can we compromise with drinks on me?

Text me the place and time and I’ll see if I can make it

***

“I knew you were bullshitting us.” Fabien cackles from beside Matt, who rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time already tonight.

“Lay off him, Fabs, he’s about to be stood up after all” Olivia replies, doing a terrible job of hiding her own laughter.

“It’s only half past. She’s a New Yorker, it’d have been weird if she showed up exactly at 9…maybe she’s nervous?” Emma offers.

“What, about meeting up with the Great Matthew Smith for drinks?” Fabien retorts and even Emma can’t fight their smile at his expense.

“Thank god I have you lot to keep me humble” Matt grumbles, getting up and stalking over to the bar to get another round. He sighs to himself, scrubbing his hands down his face as he waits for the bartender to mix his drink.

He knew it had been a bad idea to text you. You were simply being professional and he’d unfairly pushed you into meeting up for a drink. It had been Emma’s idea to have the whole group there so it felt less like a date, sensing his unease about asking you out directly. Their advice was much more helpful than Fabien’s goading and Olivia enthusiastically endorsed Emma’s plan if only to be able to snoop.

He grabs his drink and begins heading back to the booth when your distinctive laughter makes his steps briefly falter. Nerves flood his system and he rolls his eyes at himself. You're acting like a schoolboy, he chastises but he can’t help himself. He feels drawn to you in a way he hasn’t felt to anyone else in a long, long time. As he rounds the corner, his eyes find yours immediately. Unsurprisingly, his friends have placed you right beside his vacant spot which he is both grateful for and exacerbated by–again, so secondary school of them all.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaims as he sits beside you.

“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, Sage took far too long at the petstore getting Miss Trudy’s supplies. Oh, wait, how’d you know I love vodka crans? What a gentleman” you grin, plucking the drink from his hands and taking a deep sip.

“Just another thing we have in common, it appears.”

“In addition to?”

“Our love of dogs, of course.”

“Ah, if only the dogs loved him back” Olivia goads and you let loose another glorious giggle.

“How are your wounds doing?” you tease, eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Fine for now but I may need a skilled medic later to assist with bandage changes.”

“I suppose I could help if you can’t find anyone with the proper training.”

“Very generous of you, Y/N.”

“I aim to serve. Also, here, I wouldn’t want to actually steal your whole drink” you acquiesced, sliding the drink into his waiting hand. He lifts the glass to his mouth, taking a long sip while your eyes bore into his. You have such an unflinching way of appraising people, remaining present even while nothing’s being said, and he’s entranced by this.

“I don’t mind sharing,” he replies quietly, gently grasping your hand and easing the glass back into it. He doesn’t release your hand or your gaze and, for once, his friends around the table are silent which he would’ve previously believed to be impossible. He faintly hears Emma and Olivia excusing themselves to the restroom as Fabien chugs his beer just to go refill it.

“We really cleared the table, huh?” Your faint words barely reach him despite your closeness.

“All the better if you ask me” he replies, heart thumping at the grin his comment earns.

“Do you do this often?” you ask, head tilting and eyes sharp.

“Do what?”

“Charm women you meet in your line of work?”

He can’t fight the smile that splits his face–he could banter with you for eternity, he fears. “No, of course not. I have a reputation to uphold after all.”

“What reputation?”

“Are you implying my gentlemanly reputation doesn’t proceed me?”

“Are you implying you’re of such stature I looked into you before today?”

“I’d assumed you were good at your job but you can correct me if I’m wrong.”

“I am excellent at my job” you retort, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Well, then what’s my reputation?”

“You’re a classic Scorpio.”

“What?” he asks, genuinely perplexed. He notes the smirk that quirks your lips–you’d intended to throw him off his game. Well played, then.

“Scorpios are charming, easily pulling people into their orbit. But they also tend to be deep thinkers who hide behind that charisma to keep everyone at a distance despite being surrounded by people.”

He could hardly catch his breath–have you truly seen through him so easily? “Meaning?”

“Meaning that despite being in this business for decades, not much is actually known about you. Glowing comments from everyone who’s ever worked with you, surface level reporting on a few previous public relationships, but nothing of much substance despite the countless interviews and press junkets you’ve done over the years.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No, it intrigues me. But it also makes me weary.”

“Why’s that?” he questions, heart sinking.

“I may not be doing groundbreaking work right now but I value my career. So much of this business, and publishing, is based on word of mouth, having people speak well of you from previous projects. I’d hate to think this was a fun game for you when it could ruin my credibility.”

He chuckles to himself and your eyes flash. “They had to convince me to ask you out.”

“What?” you recoil at his words and he desperately wants to pull you back to him.

“I knew from our conversation earlier today you have ambitions and I’d never want to come between you and them. You’re insightful and have a sharp mind, I’m sure your writing reflects that. But they convinced me I was just giving myself an out so I wouldn’t have to risk your rejection.”

Your head tilts at his words, eyes appraising him in a way that lays him bare before you. “I think you were right,” you acknowledge. “But so were they.”

He couldn't tear himself away from you if he tried. He can only guess what’s going on in your head but your eyes reveal how countless thoughts are flowing behind them, calculations being drawn up, quick decisions being made.

“I love this song” you say quietly, throwing back all but a swallow of your shared drink, which you then offer to him. “Dance with me?”

He holds your gaze as he slowly consumes the last bits of vodka before extending his hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

So, I clearly am incapable of writing a brief meet cute but I can’t help myself. I have loads of ideas where this could go so any feedback would be much appreciated! I’ve never written for actors before but I hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻

#matt smith #house of the dragon #matt smith x reader #matt smith imagine #matt smith fanfiction #hotd #matt smith fic

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