#chemist!reader

[pathologicalreid]

hello!! i've been reading your spencer works for a while and they're definitely one of my favorites from this app :) so I'd like to request something :)

I've always loved the idea of spencer coming back home from a case earlier than expected and surprising reader (gf or wife) at work to pick her up! and reader could be a chemist or a scientist so spencer is interested and involved in her work somehow and they're just talking, being cute and fluffy and just happy to he together again <3 thank you for your time, and no pressure!

pure and applied chemistry | S.R.

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: fluff content warnings: fem!reader, chemical burns, lab incidents, yapper!reader, kisses word count: 1.06k a/n: i wasn't even going to post this today but i wrote it and fell in love with spencer and his biochemist gf!!!!! this might be a pairing that i start taking requests for - thank you so much for requesting!

The air was barely starting to chill in the district, making it still unseasonably warm as you tried to take off your jacket without removing your book bag. It would’ve been easy to be embarrassed, but you were the only person around this part of campus – most students had a Reading Day, but your lab was still open, and your graduate student still wanted to work.

You had been the last person in the lab that she approached with her idea, having been turned down by the rest of campus, but you weren’t one to turn down a challenge. In fact, you had been so bored in the lab that you considered applying for another PhD.

Tying the sleeves of your jacket around your waist, you pulled your phone out of the back pocket to check the campus transportation app. As you started typing in your passcode, your eyes caught on a notification from your boyfriend.

Spencer Reid, PhD: Not home until tomorrow.

Sending back a quick emoticon – because an emoji would just show up as a square on his phone – you switched to checking what time the bus was supposed to show up at your stop before a passing car caught your eye, the car slowed to a stop right in front of you. “Oh,” you said, shaking your head, “It’s illegal to idle at a bus stop!” You called out to the driver, “You can’t stop here!”

Startled, you took a step back when the driver opened their car door, gripping your phone tightly as you mentally prepared for a confrontation, but only ended up confused when a familiar mess of brown hair peeked over the roof of the vehicle, “You don’t recognize my car?”

“Of course, I recognize your car! I just didn’t think it could be your car because last you told me you were in Nebraska!” You said, outwardly complaining as he rounded the hood of the car to open the passenger door for you.

Spencer smiled at you over the car door, “I told a fib in order to reap the benefits of surprising my girlfriend at work. Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

Rolling your eyes as you sat in your seat, “Oh, I’m sure she could probably find the strength to forgive you.” You were beaming as Spencer took your book bag and placed it in the back seat.

As you buckled your seatbelt, Spencer got back behind the wheel, checking his mirrors before merging into the road, once you reached your first stop light, you noticed Spencer looking over at you, “What did you do to your arm?” He asked, making note of the gauze wrapped around your dominant forearm.

Frowning, you looked down at your arm, having previously forgotten the gauze was even there, “Chemical burn,” you answered indifferently, studying the first aid on your arm. “Not a bad one though, probably won’t even scar,” you added. “Oh, that reminds me, I need a new lab coat,” you blurted, fishing around the center console of Spencer’s car for a pen so you could scrawl a reminder on your uninjured forearm.

“How did you get a chemical burn on your arm?” Spencer asked, returning his eyes to the road when the light turned green. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached over and casually placed one hand on your denim-clad thigh.

You were no stranger to a small burn on your finger – you were fairly certain that your fingerprints were no longer a viable way of identification – but you usually got away with a thorough rinse and a unicorn band-aid. “My grad student, Leslie, mislabeled something in the lab. Another person tried to get me to report it, but Leslie cried so hard while she was helping me clean my arm that I didn’t want to get her in any sort of academic misconduct trouble. I mean, who knew that hydrochloric acid caused chemical burns anyway?”

Spencer deftly flicked the turn signal as he moved to get on the highway to his apartment, “Uh, you and I know,” he said, there was a critical tone in his voice, but it was directed toward your flippancy instead of the injury itself.

“It wasn’t super concentrated, so I’m really fine,” you insisted, telling him the same thing you had told Leslie when the incident occurred, “I’ve done worse.”

Smiling, your boyfriend shook his head, “It’s a wonder they still let you in chemistry labs.” He was referring to a burn you had given yourself a few months ago, leading to an embarrassing trip to the hospital where doctors had to debride a nasty burn to your thigh. That particular incident had led to the director of your lab gifting you an enamel pin, designed to look like a hazardous materials symbol.

You looked at him, watching intently as he exited off the highway and made it to his apartment. Not long ago, an impromptu trip to Spencer’s would’ve been an inconvenience, but now you had two drawers of his dresser as your own. He led the way up the stairs and you followed him through the door of apartment twenty-three.

Locking the door before turning all of his attention to you, he cupped your face in both of his hands before kissing both of your cheeks – right over the tender, red lines left by your lab goggles. “Promise me you’ll be more careful in the lab,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and herding you over to the couch.

As you sat down on the couch, Spencer joined you, grabbing at your hips until you gave in, seating yourself in his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. You intertwined your fingers at the back of his neck, tilting your head to the side, “We’re all done with tests anyway – there will be considerably fewer chemicals involved while I get on my knees and grovel to the federal government for funding to start a clinical trial,” you told him, considering the repercussions of pressing your lips to his.

“What kind of chemicals could you possibly need to apply for federal research grants?” Spencer asked, gently resting his hands on your waist.

Beaming, you waggled your eyebrows at him, “One, three, seven-Trimethylpurine-two, six-dione, baby.”

Realization dawned on his features as he understood, “Ah, caffeine.”

[harveywritings92]

R/N: *creating a chemical for a small chemical granade*

Soap, over their shoulder: What would happen if I ate it?

R/N: Do N O T

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: cisfem!reader Character: Shiryu Kink: #3 Spanking Prompt: #12 "No Panties" Gift Giver: @theluckychemist

Summary: You greet Shiryu upon his return to the island. Unfortunately, your short skirt and wide smile are appreciated by more pirates than just you intended target.

Content Notes: punishment, vaginal fingering, degrading pet names, spanking (duh), someone's the boss in this relationship and it ain't the reader, size difference, possible age difference

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

You stumbled a few steps into the room as Shiryu shoved you inside. Your heels clicked loudly against the stone floor, the room turning dim as he shut the door.

Gathering yourself you straighten up and turn toward him, taking a step back even though he didn’t move toward you. You tug absently at the skirt you’re wearing, he’s already grumbled about it being too short, and you’re pretty sure he’s a little angry since you greeted him in it – much to the pleasure of Teach who couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” He questions evenly. He towers over you. Everyone on this crew did, but Shiryu was the only one who loomed on purpose. He hasn’t even stepped toward you, but you can almost feel him drawing closer.

“I… I should’ve waited in here.” You admit, heart pounding in your chest. “This outfit was… just for you.” You take a step back.

You’re not truly afraid of him, but he is intimidating. Shiryu has done nothing but protect you and please you since you accepted his advances some months ago. With the Blackbeard pirates taking over the town, being under his wing made things easier. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself, but fighting back pirates when you were trying to work was exhausting.

He steps forward, going over to a comfortable leather chair that was designed for someone of his height. After he settles in, taking off his hat and coat, he seats himself and pats his leg.

You move toward him at the beckoning gesture cautiously.

“Over my knee.” He says simply. Sternly.

You swallow hard, feeling your throat go dry, but you don’t argue, and just nod. You have to step onto a stool to be high enough to do so comfortably, but there was plenty in the room to accommodate the height difference between the two of you.

You put your hips over his knee, chest against his other leg, holding on as your body shivered in anticipation. It wasn’t fear, he wasn’t nearly angry enough to do anything to leave you afraid, but you knew a detail he wasn’t aware of yet.

“Such an obedient girl.” He muses. “I’ll give you credit where it’s due. You owned up and quickly corrected your mistake and didn’t argue about this punishment.” His hand on the back of your leg makes you flinch.

He hums. “No need to fear, I won’t – Oh?” His hand had slid up your thigh and to the curve of your ass, pushing the short skirt up and over your hips. “No panties.” His hand rubs your bare ass cheek and you hold onto his other leg as you start to shiver.

His tone, and his touch, have you on edge. You don’t know yet if he’s pleased or angrier than he was before.

“Shiryu…” You nearly whimper. “Please, I meant it as… as a surprise.”

“… Around all those other men.” He growls, palm rubbing your ass in a slow circle.

You shake your head. “I wasn’t th-thinking! I just want-wanted to see you! I’m sorry!”

“You’ll certainly think better in the future.” He assures you, hand leaving you for a moment before it lands sharply on your ass.

The sting pulls a strangled sound from you before you gasp to catch your breath. You know the drill with this sort of thing, however, so quickly as you can you cry out.

“One, Sir!”

The second one lands sharp and heavy and you count it out. The weight of some of the smacks are pushing you into his thigh, but you’re aware that he could shatter you if he choose to. As it was, the sharp leading sting quickly sank into something pleasurable.

The fourth smack carried the sting of the one before it, and you knew your cheeks were already turning red. The problem was that the fifth smack raised you up enough your legs came together, and you could feel your own arousal slipping down your thighs.

“S-Six! Haaa ♥ Sir!” You cry out, nearly moaning in pleasure.

Shiryu’s finger slides between your thighs, causing you to grip his pant leg and buck, squirming against the finger that’s teasing your entire slit so easily. He rubs your leaking lips a few times as you shiver and squirm from the sensation.

“My little whore is enjoying her punishment it seems.” He says in a voice dangerous but amused. He pulls his finger away. “Very well, if you cum before this is done, then I’ll have you gagging on my cock and locked up in a chastity belt for a week.”

You grip his leg a little tighter and do your best to concentrate. His threat isn’t nearly as much of a threat as he might think it is, but you also don’t want to test if he’d keep you in a chastity belt for a whole week.

The seventh strike rattles you to your core, and you nearly forget to count. You rush the words out just before the next strike lands, and swear before you cry out the number. Shiryu rubs your tender ass for a moment, and the sensation sends pleasure rippling through you.

Along with the understanding that he’s not going to make it too easy for you to survive this punishment without feeling the full weight of his promised threat.

The ninth strike was almost a failure for you. Just as you were trying to call out the count he pushed his finger into your dripping pussy and you practically cried out from it. The heavy, wet, squelching sounds made your whole body shiver for a moment before you managed to nearly growl the count out from between grit teeth.

When he pulled his finger out you almost sighed in relief, even as he smeared it clean against your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, (Y/N).” He praises. “Don’t count anymore, just endure it.”

The first smack was heavy, just like the nine before it. After that there was less weight to the smacks, instead they were snappy. The sharp pain had no weight behind it, but the stinging sensation turned pleasurable faster. They were almost love taps, and you could barely control the building pleasure even against the hot sting of the rapid spankings.

Some part of you wanted to squirm away, but just as you were sure you couldn’t take any more the assault stops. Your skin is hot, and tingling, and the soft cool air is almost too much to bear, as though it wishes to bring you over the edge itself.

“Cum for me, little one.” He demands, finger sliding back inside you, the heel of his hand caressing your sensitive ass as he works.

It only takes a moment and you do as commanded, clutching onto his leg, moaning your pleasure into the air as your legs and body twitch beyond your control.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[vivaladicamillo]

just a dico and rake lover living in a bam and ryan lover world 💔💔

[the-californicationist]

That Fire is Repeated

AO3 Link

From an anonymous ask: fic of where instead of Price, it's reader who's been infected with sex pollen?👉👈please and thank u!

Deep in the southern jungles of Urzikstan, Captain Price is sent to help with your extraction. On your way out of the makeshift Konni laboratory, you accidentally step on a trap, and Price volunteers to save your life.

“I can’t hear her comms!” Simon yelled out over the noise of the helicopter, pointing to his headset and giving the thumbs down to Laswell.

She typed something into her datapad and showed it to him, yelling back,

“Dead zone! You’ll have to go in on foot.”

Price adjusted his vest and checked to make sure his gun was fully loaded,

“I’ll go. She’s my recruit, my responsibility.”

“Sure you’ll wanna be the big hero for her, too, huh?” Farah laughed from the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder as Price twisted his face, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from his shame. 

It was well-known that Price had a terribly strong crush on you. You had accepted his advances, but he was reluctant to take it further, realizing that fraternizing was frowned upon. So, you pined for each other from afar, and the whole base knew about it.

Laswell rolled her eyes at Farah’s comment, 

“Should we go back to basics? Captain: don’t subtract from the population,” her eyes narrowed, “Don’t add to the population…”

“Yeah, alright, Kate. Got it. Loud and clear,” Price waved her off, staring out the window and ignoring the obvious ribbing from his colleagues. 

“Go get Sparrow and let’s go the fuck home,” Laswell hollered at him, opening the door to the chopper and letting the air whoosh inside.

The wind stung his cheeks, and the tall grass blades spun and twirled like violent dancers as he made his way towards the old, dilapidated lab. You’d been sent to infiltrate secret Konni operations here, disguised as a chemist. Now that the Konni operatives had been dispatched, you secured the intel and were ready for extraction. Price was ready to have you back. These types of ops were so delicate. One wrong move would put you in danger. He was glad the worst of it was over. 

As quickly and as carefully as he could, Price made his way inside. It was a little odd that you weren’t outside waiting for the extraction, so his guard was up. In the main lab, he spotted you, standing with your bag and your weapon with your back towards him. 

“Little bird?” Price questioned under his breath, moving forward slowly, using the pet name he saved for when you two were alone. 

“Hey, Captain. Glad you made it,” you called out to him, your voice tinged with obvious sobbing and stress. 

“What is it, Spar? What’s happened?”

He made his way around the lab table and saw you. You were standing stock-still, staring down at your foot. Then, he knew what had made you cry. 

Jutting out of your pant leg, a giant syringe was stuck into your calf, empty.

Price leaned down to help you, removing the needle, panicking at the thought of losing you,

“Can you move?”

“When I do… Captain, it’s excruciating.”

“Fuck,” Price tried the comms. But, then he remembered it was a dead zone, and no one was coming to help him. He asked you, “Is it poison? How’d this happen?”

“They call it XLR8. It’s what they’ve been working on. A prototype. I was bending down to grab my bag and this was rigged to hit me. They knew I was a spy.”

“What does it do, this prototype?” You heard his voice quiver at the end of his question. 

You blushed, laughing a bit, 

“It incapacitates you, first. Removes your inhibitions, next. Then, it causes extreme vasodilation…”

“In the Queen’s bloody English, love. Please…”

“John,” you used his name, looking up into his eyes, “I may ask you to do things to me. Things that I might not usually ask for. And I want you to know that you don’t have to listen to me. I don’t want you to do anything… I don’t want to force you to do… things…”

“Birdie. Tell me what I need to know.”

“When the Konni scientists injected it into mice, they would breed… for hours. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep. One time, a researcher opened the door to the cage, and they didn’t escape. They only bred…” You looked at him in his eyes, making sure he heard you, “But, the mice who were alone in their cages and were given XLR8 got a high fever and died. Every last one of them”

“Are you… “ Price pointed down at your leg, “Do you mean to say that you’ll need someone to…”

You looked down at the ground, steeling yourself for the harsh reality of what was to come,

“When the drugs hit my system, the effects were immediate. Stage one should be almost over now.. You’ll… you’ll know it when you see stage two. But, listen to me, John. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced you to do something that you would regret. Please. I’m sure they’ll think of some other way to help me…”

“Little bird,” he caught your gaze and smiled softly at you, “I’m here for you. I’m not going to let anythin’ happen to you. I won’t lose you to this. I can’t… I care about you too much. I’m going to catch you, and we’re going to get out of here. Just fall forward into my arms, love. I know it hurts. We need to get you to the bloody medic as soon as we can.”

You nodded, and then you did as he commanded. Every movement felt like some sort of hell. You could hear yourself screaming, but it was muffled, your face buried in his chest. You were hanging, limp, against John’s body. You could feel every stinging step he took as it jostled your body. Suddenly, you heard the angry clipping of chopper blades. Then, you passed out. 

Sometime later, you awoke, still on the chopper, sitting in the jump seat way in the back. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Price was sitting in the jumpseat and you were… straddling his lap. 

You were humping him, shamelessly, right in front of Farah, Laswell, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. The helicopter was full of soldiers, and here you were, uncontrollably rocking your hips against your captain. The others tried to avert their gazes, sitting at awkward angles, trying not to watch, but that somehow made it worse. 

You cried out as if you were in pain, and Price held you closer, soothing you with his deep, rumbling voice, speaking to you right in your ear,

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, little bird. I’ve got you. Almost home. Just a few more minutes.”

“John… fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I need… oh, God.”

“I know what you need,” he kissed your neck, and he took his hand and shoved it down the front of your pants, giving you something to grind against. 

His fingers were strong, and the tips of them were thick, easily pressing through your folds for you, exciting your nerves just the way you liked.

You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. When you did, you saw Soap’s head peek around the back of his seat. Then, a gloved, skeletal hand yanked him back around to face the front. If you didn’t die from the XLR8, you’d die from embarrassment afterward, that was certain. 

“It’s okay, bird. It’s not your fault. They know that,” he tried to reassure you, but you hid your face in his neck anyway, unable to stop your wanton writhing, soaking his fingers until they slid against you unimpeded. 

You felt your hands reach for his belt, digging under his vest and all of his equipment straps. You wanted to spear your body onto his thick cock. You were sure that it would cure you. The fever made you feel too cold and too hot all at the same time. You shivered in his arms, but your brow was dotted with beads of sweat. 

He caught your wrist to stop you,

“Just a little while longer, love. Shh, shh, shh. I know…”

You sobbed into his shoulder, ashamed and needy, too weak to fight his grip. 

“Hey, look at me,” you obeyed, and he rubbed your cheek, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You shuddered, cresting over a brief, sharp orgasm, coming on him as quietly as you could, biting your cheek so you wouldn’t cry out. For a few seconds, you experienced some sort of relief, but then it was gone, and the overwhelming internal fire raged in your belly once more.

The chopper pitched, landing on the pad at your base, and everyone cleared out of the hull except for Laswell. She looked down at you, pity in her eyes, and then turned to him with concern,

“I’ll send a few supplies to your room. The medic wants to run some tests. How long is this supposed to last?”

John shrugged, petting the sweaty hair out of your face, tucking you in close to him in his arms,

“Not sure. Just trying to get her through it. Take her datapad. It’s got her notes from the lab.”

Laswell took it and stepped down from the chopper, jogging off to the med bay. 

“C’mon, love. Let me help you take that fever away, hm?”

You nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, letting him carry you from the helicopter. It seemed like the tight coil in your belly was getting more and more tense by the moment. Your orgasm had been too weak, and it was almost like you hadn’t quite completed the event. You were just stuck in between coming and not coming, waiting for someone to put you out of your misery. What you thought had been relief was really just a prelude to the main event. It was torture. 

As you lay your head on his chest, you could smell his aftershave as it mixed with his skin, a comfortingly warm scent with woodsy spices and the faint hint of tobacco from his favorite cigars. You wanted more of it, so you turned your nose into him, running your hands across the belt of his pants, trying to pry your way in..

When he arrived in the barracks, he kicked open the door to a dark room. It smelled just like him. You realized then that you were in his quarters. He lay you on his bed and set to taking off your gear. Your boots and socks slid off, and he unclipped your vest. Then, you felt his fingers on your neck, carefully inspecting your wounds. 

“Birdie…” He shook his head, obviously regretful for what you were going through. 

You whimpered, looking up at him as you moved your hand down your own pants, rubbing yourself in front of him out of a desperate need, 

“John, I don’t know how to ask you this.”

“You don’t have to. Medic’s gonna check you out, and I’ll give you whatever you want, little bird. I promise.”

“I need you, now. I don’t… I can’t… mmmngh...”

“Captain?” A woman’s voice floated into the room from the doorway. Price cracked the door and when he saw it was the medic, he let her in. 

She knelt by the bed, and took your hand,

“Hey, Sparrow. I’m just going to check your vitals, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to stare down the dark opening of her lab coat. Her voice was so sweet, and her breasts looked full and soft. Her olive skin would probably feel so warm on your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you had your hand behind her head, kissing her neck, trying your best to unbutton her blouse.

“Easy! Easy does it,” John sat himself down behind you on the bed, positioning you between his legs, and held you back, keeping you from accosting the medic. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I… oh, my God…” You writhed, trying to fight the demonic need building inside of you.

“That’s okay,” she said, “They warned me. We’re going to get you some help… Let me take your temp… Goddamnit. She’s burning up. I’m going to give her a light sedative and something to try and cut her fever, but…”

She stopped speaking, looking up at the captain, trying to be delicate, 

“You probably need to… um… begin. The sooner the better. I’ll leave these with you,” she dropped two blue pressed pills into his hand, “Just in case you, uh, need a boost.”

Price recognized the sexual enhancement drugs and put them on his side table. He waited patiently for the medic to take a small vial of your blood. He thanked her, trying not to sound like he was in a rush (even though he was), and eventually she shut the door, leaving you two in each others’ care.

John stayed where he was, but he softened his grip, kissing your neck. He reached down and unbuttoned your pants, giving your hand room to move. You rubbed your folds faster, making tight little circles around your clit, struggling to come. 

“Nnngh… fuck. Fuck, I can’t do it. I’m so close, but…” You whined, gritting your teeth and struggling against the XLR8. It was making you woozy, and you couldn’t keep your strength up in order to get yourself over the edge. 

“Show me,” he whispered, staring down at your furious masturbation, watching your hand as it worked, “Show me how you like it, little bird. Teach me.”

Your heart raced, equal parts excited and embarrassed to show him something so personal and intimate, but you did as you were told, letting him see how your fingers worked your flesh. He sighed, and you felt his cock shift against the small of your back. 

He took over for you, sliding his hand down below yours, mimicking your movements, and getting very close to perfection. 

“That’s it!” You hissed, keening for him, “That’s… oh, fuck, that’s so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t —”

Your orgasm was almost immediate. Your body locked up, every muscle squeezing you until you were frozen, rigidly convulsing as you came on his hand. Your mouth hung open in a breathless, silent scream. Then, to your horror, you felt the heavy stain of some sort of fluid soaking through your pants. At first, you thought you’d wet yourself, but then when John pulled his hand away to inspect your emission, you saw the sticky, gooey consistency shining on his fingers. 

“What… I don’t understand. What is that?”

“It looks like your come, yeah? Quite a lot of it…” He observed. Price brought it to his nose and mouth to smell it. Then, he licked his fingers tentatively, and his eyes rolled back into his head, “Mmm. Fuck. It’s sweet.”

He lifted you so easily, it was as if you weighed nothing. Propping you up on his pillows, he helped you out of your pants and boots, stripping you down. When Price saw you, dripping and pink, splayed in front of him like a gleaming prize, he stalled. Then, he looked up at you, eyes wide with glorious wonder,

“Little bird…”

“John,” you gasped, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any more time. In a flash, your thighs were hitched up toward your chest as he shoved them back, giving his mouth access to its warm, wet reward. 

The first long lick was like its own kind of drug. Your whole body sang like a bell, trembling and ringing out for him and his soft tongue. He licked you again and pulled away, confused but pleasantly so,

“Fuck, love. You taste like strawberries. That’s… fuck.”

You lost track of time as he devoured you. His whole face was shining with your stickiness, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was gasping for air, practically drowning himself, rubbing his chin and nose through your folds as he tried to writhe his tongue deeper into your core, fucking you with it to draw out more of your slickness. 

The sounds you were making seemed almost inhuman. You were convinced you had never had a true orgasm before if this is what they were supposed to feel like. Every lap of his tongue felt like its own crescendo. You were putty in his hands, figuratively and literally judging by the dampness beneath you. 

Eventually, he made his way back up your body, peeling away your shirt and bra, rustling out of his own clothes as quickly as he could, his muscular arms getting trapped in his jacket, stretching and pulling against his heavy bones for freedom.

“You alright, little bird?” He asked you softly, crawling over you and settling himself between your shivering thighs. 

You nodded,

“Yeah, that was so amazing, John. I know its selfish, but I need more. Can… can you fuck me? Please? I’m clean, I have an IUD. Please? I won’t —”

“Shh. Hush, love. I’m not leavin’ this room ‘til I’ve cured you, one way or another. C’mere.”

He pulled you to him, kissing you, covered in your come. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he was right: it was exactly like strawberries. It must have been the stimulant, you thought. Something to… entice… 

Your mind went blank as John began to feed his fat cockhead into your hole. All of the pain and the heat from the fever disappeared, and you were normal again. Well, a very horny normal, but at least you felt some relief. 

“Oh, my God!” You cried, “That’s it. That’s what I needed. Oh…”

“Yeah?” Price narrowed his eyes, studying your face, watching your reactions with rapt attention. Where you were stabilizing, he was falling apart at the seams. 

His whole body shuddered as he slid himself into you. It was shallow at first; he was too thick to fit inside of your tight pussy, no matter how wet you were. But, as he lubed himself up in your body, he squeezed deeper and deeper inside, eventually drilling down right to his base, slamming his hips into yours like a hungry machine. 

Your screams echoed in his small room, and the metal bed creaked under his enormous weight. You could feel his power through his thrusts. He was so incredibly strong, and his muscles bent and twisted just to serve your pleasure. It was hypnotizing to watch. You were focused on the straining sinew in his immense neck when another orgasm threatened to bubble over inside of you. 

It was too soon. You’d barely recovered from the first one, and as he felt your body start to contract around his shaft, he began to moan right along with you. 

“That’s it, Birdie, let it out. C’mon. Come for me… That’s it. That’s… ungh!” He coached you, talking you through it, fighting his own pleasure like the dragon it was, the heat of his breathing furling in hot bursts down your neck. 

His eyes were wrenched shut, but between his long, aching thrusts, he rambled, spilling out his words instead of himself inside of you like he wanted to. 

“Spar… don’t you know how badly I’ve wanted this?”

Your pussy was being pounded so hard you could feel your pulse slamming against your skin.

“...I’ve wanted you… wanted to feel you…”

His face was near yours, close enough that you could still smell your sweet slick on his beard. 

“...it’s so good. I never want it to stop. Feels like heaven…”

When he wasn’t speaking in that hoarse, smoldering timbre, you could see his jaw working against itself, fighting the inevitable. 

“...so damn responsive to me. Such a good girl…”

Then, his tone turned dark, burning into your face as he spoke against your cheek through gritted teeth, 

“You want more, hm?”

“Yeah…” You whispered, your voice sounding so small. 

“Harder? You want it harder, don’t you, little bird? I can tell.”

You nodded, whispering your pleading to him in wordless gasps. He smiled. You could feel it against your skin,

“Bloody hell. Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he lamented, rising up above you, wrenching his fingers around your waist, the gentleness gone from his touch, “Fuck, Birdie. You’ll make me come. You… ah!”

He brought you with him as he tumbled over the edge. You felt like you’d been hit with a flashbang. You couldn’t hear, and your vision went white. When you begged your lungs to breathe, you couldn’t take in the air. All you could feel — the only thing your body would allow you to feel — was each silky throb of his cock as it pumped his come inside of you. You could feel it as it burst from him, and then as it melted down your walls, flowing across his fleshy head. It was lava-hot, and you knew nothing except that you needed more. 

Price collapsed on top of you, his heavy, furry body sweaty and panting, gasping for air himself. He seemed spent, but you weren’t done. 

You flipped him, planting him on his back, enjoying the shocked look on his face, his eyes wide and uncertain. He couldn’t speak; there wasn’t enough time. But, as you began to rock back and forth on his softening rod, he cried out with something between pain and bliss. 

“Oh, fuck, love… wait! I’m… oh, shite…” 

“I’m… so sorry, John. I can’t stop…” You ground your swollen pussy down to his base, fucking him raw and wild, feeling his come slipping out of you in foamy smears. 

He nodded, hiding his eyes behind his palm, struggling to get his breathing under control,

“It’s alright, Birdie. It’s alright. Take what you need.”

As you rode him, he fully softened in you, and you cried out, trying everything you could to bring him back. Then, you watched as he fumbled across the end table, reaching for the blue pills the medic had left behind. He took one, and stared up at you,

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs, and with very little struggle, situated you across his face, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, forcing you to put your weight on his jaw. He began to eat you out, licking long circles around your messy hole at first, and then he thrust his long tongue inside of you, rubbing his nose deep within your wet folds. 

You screamed for him then, trying to battle your insecurities and failing. It was overwhelming. The pleasure just built and built inside of you, mounting up and then… nothing. It remained there at its peak, a tightened coil, ready to bust. 

“John! John, I can’t… Help me, please.”

With all of his strength, he lifted you off of him, shoving you on all fours, situating himself behind you. 

All of his movements were rabid and unwieldy. He was struggling, trying to overcome his soporific pleasure to accommodate you. Hungry for you even though he’d recently been sated. 

Your chaos quieted for a moment when you felt his fingers prying your lips apart between your legs, slipping into you like a cork, sinking down to his knuckles into a perfect fit. 

“Oh, Sparrow. So fuckin’ soft. So sweet.” 

As he praised you, he ate you, pulling out more and more of your stickiness onto his hand, lapping you up with his tongue. You were coming unwound, and it felt amazing. It was as if he was pulling pulsing orgasms from your body on a long silk ribbon, one after the other, soft and slick, neverending. 

Then, finally, you felt his head tapping its way into your wet hole once more. Fucking you from behind seemed to be your commander’s preference. It was either that or he had become beyond overstimulated. His noises were a cross between whimpers and growls. He kissed his way up your back, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck and shoulder, grunting like an animal as he buried himself into you. 

“You’re so big. I feel so full,” you whispered to him, glancing over your shoulder as he knelt over you like a feral hound, bucking into you shamelessly. 

“Feels good, little bird? ‘M not hurtin’ you, am I?” 

“No, John. You’re perfect,” you found his jaw as he kissed your neck, nuzzling his face with your own, rubbing against him like a cat. 

“Gonna come for me, love? Squeezin’ the fuck out of my cock.”

“I can’t help it,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks. You were so overwhelmed, your body was processing every sensation, fraying your nerves. He wiped your temple with his hand, 

“I know, Sparrow. I know. Let it out, love. C’mon. I can take it.”

“Nghah!” You screamed, trying to relax into the blinding pleasure, feeling your legs start to tremble from it.

“Mmm,” Price groaned deeply, sitting back on his knees as he felt you spill over the edge. Your sticky come coated his cock and the dense hair at his base, matting the dark fur, “Tha’s it, baby. Fuck, so wet.”

You sobbed through the orgasm as it wrecked your body. John gathered you up in his arms, taking the sheet with him, clutching you to his chest messily, still humping himself into you as gently as he could, but unable to quell his own lurid desire. 

“Lay down, Birdie,” your captain whispered, pulling the sheet away and pushing you prone into his mattress, “Try to breathe for me. Tha’s it.”

You tried to do as he commanded. You wanted to be good for him, but your breath kept hitching in your throat. You needed more, and you didn’t know how to get it. You writhed below him, feeling his cock slipping in and out of you, the wetness from your body pooling beneath you. 

“John, I’m still so hot. Feels like I’m losing my mind,” you looked at him over your shoulder, and you had to admit he didn’t look much better. He was spent, fucking you on auto-pilot at this point, letting nature take its own path. He was nothing more than base instincts at this point, and you could tell he was having trouble keeping himself tied down. 

He wanted to come again, you could feel it in how rigid his cock had become, helped by the pills. Something inside of you wanted to force his come from him, to make him explode in you again, filling you up. So, you pushed your hips back, arching your spine to allow more of his cock inside of your pussy, teasing him with your swollen hole. 

“Oh, fuck. Sparrow… don’t…”

“Does it feel good, John?” You asked, not following his orders for once, “Do I… make you feel good?”

“Holy fuck,” he spat, his voice dark and animalistic, unable to tear his eyes from where your bodies were joined together.  

You twisted your hips back and forth, effectively jerking him off with your drooling sheath, listening to his deep whining as you tormented him, pushing him to the brink but not fucking him fast enough to toss him over. 

“Little bird… Please…” John whimpered, overstimulated and eager to come.

“Tell me,” you teased him, not recognizing your own voice, “Tell me how you like it.”

“I fuckin’ love it. Just like that, Birdie. So damn good. Keep movin’ your hips like that, pretty girl. Gonna make me come again.”

You could feel his eyes watching you fuck him. He used his hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, giving him a bird’s eye view of both of your holes. You could feel the cool air rush across them, exciting you and making you shiver from the sensation. 

“So damn pretty,” Price crooned, whispering almost to himself, petting your stretched skin with his thumbs, smearing your wetness all over you.

You felt him grab your hair, right at the nape of your neck, forcing your back to arch, pulling you up to him, 

“You want me to come in you, little bird? You want my fuckin’ come? Hm? Tell me!”

“Nghh… Yes,” you hissed. His grip was so restricting, and you felt the air try to escape your throat, “Come. In. Me.”

“Sparrow!” Price shouted, releasing your hair to hold you across your belly, wrapping your body in his arms, ramming himself into you as deeply as he could, letting his cock spill into you once again. 

You were full of him. John was everywhere. He was wet and dripping within you, and as he fell to the bed with you, his body covered yours fully, wrapping you beneath him. You shifted a bit, convincing him to roll onto his side, kissing his neck and face, whispering sweet nothings to him as he caught his breath. 

“So good, John… You are so good to me,” you let your lips sink into his warm, panting mouth, letting your lips slide together. 

“Mmm,” he sighed, “Still hard. The medic was right about those pills.”

“I’m so sorry,” you straddled him again, humping against his still-rigid shaft, “I still need you, John. Please?”

“Sure, little bird. Ah! Oh, fuck, I’m sensitive. Easy… Ngh!”

“I’ll go slow,” you leaned forward to kiss him, capturing his long moan in your mouth. 

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and then a slit of light as it creaked open. A skeletal gloved hand reached in with a stuffed bag and dropped it just inside the room before shutting it tightly again. 

Price removed you gently, watching you pout, and he explained,

“Laswell’s care package.”

“Come back, John,” you pulled his hand toward you as he opened the bag with the other.

He started laughing, letting you guide his cock back into you while he was standing at the edge of the bed. You watched as he pulled a couple of water bottles out of the bag and set them on the end table, still chuckling to himself. 

“Hey,” you pet your fingers through the hair on his belly as you writhed against him, “What’s funny?”

“Strawberries,” he smiled as he pulled a small box of the fruit from the bag, his eyes twinkling in the low light, “You want one, little bird?”

You nodded, but then felt the sudden emptiness of him removing his cock from you again. Then, with a devilish grin, you watched him dip the tip of the bright red fruit into your pussy, twirling it around in your juices, coating it with your thick stickiness, and then sucking it into his mouth, eating half of it and letting it drip down his chin. 

He brought it to your mouth, at the same time thrusting himself all the way inside of you, making you gasp,

“Open wide, love.”

[ham1lton]

mysterious girl.

pairing: lewis hamilton x chemist!reader.

faceclaim: jasmine tookes.

summary: lewis has just released that he’s just gotten married and the whole world is scrambling to find out who his secret wife is.

warnings: no warnings! just lewis’ personal life being speculated by random internet peeps.

author’s note: i did a bit of research on nobel prizes but if i got anything wrong. i apologise. i hope you enjoy !! 😘💕. also requests are currently still open.

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 20,303 others.

yourbffuser: from sleepless nights in the college library to being next to each other for the wedding and watching you being nominated for a nobel prize?! i’ve never been prouder of my best friend. go best friend !!! 😘

user1: i love seeing black women in stem!!

user2: i did a powerpoint on y/n for class and introduced her to my entire class!!

-> yourbffuser: omg i’m gonna show her this!!

-> yourusername: thank you so much! this is so incredibly sweet. your powerpoint was so informative and highlighted all the accomplishments of mine. i didn’t even know i had that many. i hope you got an a and if you didn’t, i’ll write a letter of complaint to your teacher!!

user3: lewis in the likes??

-> user4: omg… is yourbffsname lewis’ wife?

-> user6: they have been spotted together at the same restaurants and holidaying at the same place….

-> user5: did we crack the code??

-> lewishamilton: no you didn’t 🌱🫶🏾 try again!

-> user7: TRY AGAIN IS CRAZY 😭😭😭😭

liked by vogue, yourusername and 2,727,829 others.

lewishamilton: the cat’s out of the bag. cheeky selfie w/ mum before the ceremony, my wife serenading me with whitney houston and photos from the honeymoon where we laughed at the trending tweets. happy with the missus ♡.

(and yes, roscoe was the flower dog).

georgerussell63: the ceremony was beautiful! thanks for letting me be there.

user1: help. he said he was laughing at the tl being in shambles he’s sick. he threw a bone into a pack of hungry dogs and didn’t expect us to fight.

user2: she looks so beautiful!! gorgeous, kind and smart. she’s the whole package 😍💕

user3: now why did i hear from the streets that he invited nico?? and he turned up??

-> user4: don’t disappoint me.

zendaya: it was a gorgeous ceremony with gorgeous people!! glad to have been there :)

user6: need pictures asap of flower dog roscoe.

bonus:

[nvuy]

doctor, doctor — veritas ratio

summary. you’re the worst person ever, distract him from his work, beat him at chess, and yet doctor ratio still can’t seem to hate your presence as much as he lets on.

notes. “nvuy please update your fics” NO.

my favourite person ever informed me that when owlbert lists all of ratio’s degrees, chemistry is not one of them, so i thought that was funny. but anyway i always lowkey forget ratio exists but then he appears in game and i go Good Lord and then go about my day. that man’s arms do something to me.

warnings. suggestive content, one intense make out session, you’re a freak LMAO, ratio thinks you’re a freak too, this is lowkey crack, i wrote this tipsy, gn reader but you do wear lipgloss.

“Hi, Doctor.”

Veritas’ fingers slid against the screen like nails on a chalkboard. A headache was already starting to form behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment before he unwillingly opened them again.

“Yes. Good evening to you.”

Keep the pleasantries. Don’t yell. Don’t throw a punch. Don’t slam another book on anyone else’s head.

You sat down in the seat beside him with a purple soda can in your hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

Veritas cleared his throat. “I’m working.” He glanced up at the top of his screen. “And, judging by the time, you should be working as well.”

You weren’t even listening, choosing instead to pick up a stray notebook that he’d left on the desk. The page was filled with scribble and stupid math symbols—actually, that was not scribble. That was just his handwriting.

Gross. You grimaced at the page before you turned it. The next page, and the next, creased and scarred with harsh pen markings, looked undoubtedly the same.

“Work is for losers,” was all you remarked. You obnoxiously sipped at your drink.

Ratio scoffed. “How you even landed a position working for Madame Herta is beyond me. You are clearly a liability.”

You snorted. “I got hired because I’m sexy and smart.” You were picking at your nails, painted a deep purple like his hair. “You’re only here because Miss Asta needed help. After her problem is solved, you can go back to moping about how you don’t have a chemistry degree.”

You watched his jaw visibly tighten. His teeth gnashed together, and you swore you could hear them grinding behind his lips.

“It is a work in progress,” was all he said.

“Yap, yap.” You made a talking gesture with your hands. “I’m the professional here. That’s why Miss Asta made me lead chemist.”

Such a shame your ego overshadowed such a pretty face.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to return to his notebook.

“I want to play chess.”

“I’m busy.”

You blew a raspberry. You punched him playfully in the shoulder. You almost hurt your knuckles bopping his bicep. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

His glanced up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack. He raised an eyebrow in a challenging gesture, as if daring you to repeat yourself.

You only stared at him expectantly.

“One game,” he rushed out, face reddening in frustration. The look he gave you could’ve killed, but you knew him better than that. His strangely jacked physique wasn’t built to maim, and if he wanted to smack you with his tablet, he would’ve done so already. “And if I win, you will leave me alone.”

“Mmm, okay.” You shrugged. “And if I win, I get a kiss.” You tapped your cheek twice.

Veritas reeled back. Then, taken aback, he spluttered, “that’s all?”

You took another sip of your drink.

Then, you blinked. “Yep.”

Ratio, too, reciprocated, blinking wildly as if he hadn’t even processed what had come out of your mouth.

You grinned at him, eyes crinkling below your lashes as he eyed you down like he was viewing a sample through a microscope.

Then, he sighed. “Fine.” He tapped away on his screen. One of his floating gadgets projected a holographic chessboard onto his desk. “I suppose somebody has to dull that ego of yours.”

You leaned back in your seat and waved him off lightly. “You can go first.”

The chessboard flipped, and the white pieces faced him.

*ೃ༄

“Hey, does this thing have speech detection?” You leaned closer to the board. “Knight to B4.”

As expected, the small porcelain knight upon the board moved forward into its newly assigned position.

Ratio scoffed, clearly irritated. His fingers tapped idly against the desk. “You are so frustratingly lazy. It’s a miracle you get your work done, and such a shame it impedes your potential brilliance.”

You only made another talking motion with your hands. As he thought long and hard about his next move, you yawned. He took everything so seriously.

No wonder he was so jacked. He was constantly tense. It probably counted as a workout.

“You think I’m brilliant?” you asked with a smile.

“I think you have selective hearing.” Finally, he moved one of his pieces forward. “But, yes. Miss Asta speaks highly of you.”

“Aww. I’ll give her a smooch later.” That was a relief to hear, actually. Sometimes you worried if she’d boot you out of your position because of your tardiness. It was good that she still wanted you working in the station, despite lagging behind on reports and important meetings.

When you glanced up from the board after telling a pawn to move forward one space, Ratio’s eyes caught yours before he briskly looked down at the hologram once more.

Ratio was trying to read the board. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just what are you doing?”

“Winning.”

“You are not winning.”

“Sure I am.” You leaned back in the seat once more. “Checkmate.”

Veritas’ eyes snapped up to gawp at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Checkmate,” you repeated. “I know I’m distracting. I have that effect on loser nerds with big egos.”

Veritas was staring at the board again. He was trying to piece together your previous moves, as the holographic board began to play in reverse. He was no cheat, no, never, and you didn’t expect him to do it as you were watching either, but it was clear as day.

He lost.

Your tongue carded along the rim of the soda can. “L-O-L.”

“This doesn’t even make sense,” Veritas mumbled, fingers rubbing circles into his temples. “You didn’t even have a plausible strategy.”

“Yeah, I did.” You placed a defensive hand over your heart. “You just don’t know it, because I have such a great poker face.”

“Chess doesn’t warrant a poker face.”

“Well, then, if you’re not willing to know my genius strategy–”

“No.” Veritas glared at you. “You will tell me.”

“Sure. I’m more worried about my reward, though.”

The look he gave you made you howl with laughter. It was a twist of his lips into something unsavoury as if he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar. His brows knitted together and those unfairly long dark lashes casted a jagged shadow over his cheeks.

The chess board disappeared with a small noise and the screen returned to normal.

You leaned forward, batting your own lashes at him.

Veritas, after displaying a shaky grimace on his lips, met you halfway and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek.

You looked offended when he pulled back.

You whined. “What was that?”

“Your reward,” he argued.

“You just brushed your lips on me. Do you kiss everyone like that?” You were quite literally sulking, more so to get on his nerves.

It was working.

You swore you noticed a vein twinge on his temple. “I don’t just kiss anyone, thank you. Especially not over a game of chess.”

“You’re not getting my genius strategy, then.”

“Fine.”

This time, when his lips went for your cheek again, you turned your head.

Veritas let out an embarrassing noise that you’d never forget.

When he tried to pull away, clearly flustered and radiating so hot you were convinced he’d combust right there in his chair, you locked a hand in his hair.

Flustered for a moment, he then returned your enthusiasm ten fold, large hands curling around your waist and keeping the excited jittering of your legs still.

“Somebody will see,” he mumbled against your lips quietly.

To address his concerns, you dipped down lower in your seat behind the wall of his desk. Anyone that was watching would look away if they knew what was good for them.

Pulling away from his lips proved difficult. You caught the taste of his evening coffee, as well as the scent of cashmeran, and something that smelled faintly of chestnut and the smoky smell of a nice warm fireplace.

“You smell nice,” you whispered. Your voice was slightly hoarse. “What’re you wearing?”

The grin you had stretched on your face said it all.

Veritas snarled against your lips. “A physics degree.”

His lips hit your teeth when you grinned. “Can’t taste better than a chemistry degree.”

“You are horrible.”

Your hand crept along the waistband of his pants, feeling along the ribbons and the sleek expensive material. It was like cotton, but somehow even softer against your fingers, as if the thread count was bordering on six-hundred.

He reeled back when he finally processed the feeling of your fingertips slipping below his clothes. “Watch yourself.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” He made no effort to remove your hands, so a finger then hooked beneath the border of the hole over his chest. “Come ‘ere, Doctor.”

The light in your eyes was almost as intimidating as when you pressed your lips back into his, this time firmer, as if you were trying to mould your skin to his.

His skin was surprisingly warm for how cold he behaved. His scent was addicting. Freshly printed books and a warm winter’s night.

It tore a low and pleasant groan from your throat.

Surprisingly, he did not push away when your lips slipped from his mouth and traced the line of his jaw.

Instead, he sighed defeatedly and angled his jaw for you. You hummed, clearly content.

“Enjoying yourself?” he mused.

“Mhm.” You wondered whether he’d let you suck a bruise beneath his ear. “You’re soft. For a man.”

Veritas scoffed at that. He would insist that you were softer, but he instead bit his tongue. Of course he was soft. He took care of his skin, and he didn’t waste his life away drinking that filth you called soda.

He usually hated that artificial grape flavour, but he supposed the taste of your lips helped quell the awful amount of sugar still resting on your tongue.

He stiffened beneath you. He hadn’t even realised you had crawled into his lap. “Are you leaving marks?”

“Yep.” Your lips had dipped down to the base of his neck to stain the thin stretch of skin there.

“Oh, you–!” His eyes squeezed shut when your teeth carded along his jugular in warning.

The poor man looked two seconds away from a heart attack. His pupils almost turned to slits. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to push you away or draw you closer. It was a mix of heat and blur that made his vision swirl with colour.

He felt unreasonably dizzy. He was grateful he was still sitting at his desk, for he was sure his knees would have given out beneath him otherwise.

Your lips pulled back for a moment. Sticky. He could smell a tinge of kiwi fruit from the gloss smeared over your lips. He was sure it was lathered all over his jaw like thick paste. The remaining hour of his shift would be a mix of rushing the rest of his report, and trying to scrub your makeup from his face.

Part of him wanted the stains to stay there, as unprofessional the thought was.

His silent brooding while your thighs warmed his were interrupted by approaching heels. Black kitten heels, to be exact, with a dark pinkish plum soles. He recognised her footsteps from miles away.

His heart stopped.

“Um… Doctor Ratio? I’m just receiving word that– oh my stars!”

Too late.

Veritas sprang from his seat, shoving you back into your own chair, much to your chagrin. Your hand fell from beneath the material of his shirt.

The damage had already been done, however.

Poor Lead Astronomer Asta stood frozen, face red, holding a clipboard with way too many pink highlighted paragraphs on the paper.

Veritas awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the sticky gloss off his lips. “The report will be with you in an hour.”

Asta merely blinked at him. Her cheeks were brighter than her hair.

Her eyes then flitted towards you. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

You waved. “Hey, queen.”

Then, she nodded once in a greeting, squeaked an, “okay, thanks,” to the doctor and then rushed away, still hot in the face.

You could see the uneven rise and fall of Veritas’ chest. You were sure his heart was racing beneath his skin; yours was exactly the same, maybe arguably even quicker.

“Terrific.” Veritas turned his head to ridicule you. Scary for a dude with lipgloss smeared all over his face. “You’ve traumatised the poor girl.”

He heard you sigh. “I was just getting started.” You slouched in your chair, defeated. You checked your watch, noticing the giant seven tick over. “I’m hungry.”

“Eat, then. It’s dinner time.” He sat back down in his chair after he was sure he’d cleaned his face of your makeup.

“I was having dinner.” You finished the last of your soda and tapped at the can absentmindedly with your nails. “And was just getting to dessert.”

“You have an awful tongue.” He waved you off with his hands, fed up. “Now, shoo. I’m busy.”

“You’re so boring. What do you do for fun? Read?” He opened his mouth to answer, but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself even further. “Don’t answer that.”

Veritas rolled his eyes.

Instead, he chose to ignore you and pull the data back up onto his screen. His handwriting is still the most horrific thing you’ve ever seen, but it’s almost fascinating watching him write like that.

It’s just a line that only he can understand. Like his own nerd language.

You found it sort of hot.

Your eyes darted over to the bathroom door. “Hey, Doctor… What about–”

His eyes flared, and his grip on his pen grew tighter. He almost split a hole into the paper. "We are not having a rendezvous in the bathroom, nor will I be coming home with you.”

"Aww."

"But, for what's its worth, I commend your bravery in asking such a bizarre thing."

Ooh, praise. Lovely. "Eh." You clicked your tongue and leaned forward to kiss the side of his hair. “Worth a try.”

When you pull away, he does not look up, but his cheeks are tinged a lovely pink.

[cherryandsugar]

Blame

Pairing: Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

WC: 2,313

Warnings: set in Act 3 (minor spoilers), reader is referred to as Tav exactly twice, reader is smaller than Karlach, POV changes, major character injury, blood, mentions of death, angst with a happy ending :)

Summary: A grievous injury leaves Tav incapacitated, and as the party struggles to heal her, Astarion blames himself for her pain.

~~~

Blood, smoke, and ash coat your throat as your breath heaves. The battle around you rages on, your companions facing off against the Banite chemists of Felogyr’s Fireworks. A stray firebolt had ignited the nearby smokepowder, setting off a chain reaction that shook the building and singed the very air. The blast hadn’t taken you down, nor had it eliminated all your foes.

The clashing of Lae’zel’s blades and Karlach’s war cry fills your ears. Hidden somewhere in the rubble, Astarion picks off enemies one by one with well timed sneak attacks. And you? You stand in the center of it all, ducking and dodging as two of the heavily armored Banites take turns swinging their weapons at you.

You retaliate as best as you can, but your strikes seem to bounce off their armor harmlessly. They advance on you, forcing you to back away, further from your friends. One, wielding a mace, raises his weapon to strike and catches your arm. The crushing weight of his blow has you scrambling backwards, taking your eyes off your foes for a brief moment to check behind you.

In that split second, an arrow flies over your head and burrows itself into the throat of the man who struck you. He chokes on his own blood for a moment, before crumbling to the ground. Dead.

As you face your remaining foe, you adjust your grip on your short sword to favor your injured arm and make a mental note to thank Astarion for having your back when this is over. 

No longer on the defensive, you swing your sword upward, aiming for the Banite’s neck. He deflects with his longsword, before swiping down at your abdomen. His blade brushes against your leather armor before he reels back to swing again. Before he can bring his arms down, he freezes, wobbling on unsteady feet before joining his comrade on the floor, Karlach’s battle ax sticking out of his back. 

She rushes over from where she’d thrown her weapon, the battle seemingly over, to pry it from the corpse before she stops in front of you.

“You alright, soldier?” her brows crease as she asks.

You gasp, still catching your breath as adrenaline courses through you, “Yeah. Thanks,” you respond with a grateful smile.

“You sure? That doesn’t look—“ she’s cut off as Astarion rushes over from behind you.

“Darling, where are you hurt?” his voice is rushed. He grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him, crimson eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain.

You smile at his concern, always looking out for you, “I’m fine, love. Are you alright?” you ask as you raise your hand to cup his cheek, your breath calming as the rush of battle fades. But Astarion does not look calm. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set in a grim frown as his eyes continue their search.

He ignores your question.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, I can smell it,” he casts his eyes downward, continuing his search. His eyes widen as they take you in, any color in his pale face drains. You follow his line of sight. You see it before you feel it. Blood.

At once, the adrenaline high you’d been riding vanishes. The leather of your armor, just over your abdomen has been shredded, blood oozes from beneath it, soaking your underclothes and dripping out onto the floor. You can only imagine what your flesh looks like beneath the mess. Your head spins and your vision blurs before the pain rushes to greet you, the force of it knocking your knees out from under you.

As you collapse, your three companions jump into action. Astarion, with wide eyes and frantic movements grabs you by the arms and gently lowers you to the floor, settling your head on his lap as he kneels beside you. Karlach digs through the pack, searching for anything that might help you as Lae’zel rushes to stabilize your wound. 

You writhe in agony as she applies a cruel pressure to your stomach, gasping for air as Astarion reaches to hold your hand. You squeeze as the pain shoots through you, burning and searing hotter than any fire. His face hovers over yours, a blurry mess of white and red before you squeeze your eyes shut against the pain.

“Hey, hey. Focus on me, right here love,” he tries desperately to keep your attention as he brushes your hair away from your eyes. As if he can sense you nodding off, he looks up, “Karlach, we need a potion, a spell— something.”

She shuffles around behind him, practically dumping all of your supplies out before shouting, “We only have one, we need to get her back to camp.” She sounds panicked, passing Astarion the lone potion of healing.

He curses under his breath, turning back to you. You blink slowly, mumbling deliriously through your pain, “Sorry… Star, love you,” He shushes you as he lifts your head to pour the potion down your throat, tender in his panic. You swallow greedily, looking back up to him, focusing on his eyes. Those deep scarlet eyes which usually hold so much love are now filled with fear.

“Pretty,” you sigh, before darkness creeps along the edge of your vision and finally engulfs you.

…

Astarion is stunned for a moment.

“Tav?” he whispers, nudging your shoulder. When you don’t respond he turns around, shouting this time, “Karlach!”

“On it, Fangs,” she resolves, abandoning the pile of loot she’d scattered in her mad search for a healing potion. She kneels next to your immobile form, gently lifting you from under your knees and back, carefully positioning your head to rest on her shoulder. 

Lae’zel backs away from your body, releasing the pressure she kept on your wound with a hiss, “Tsk’va! We must hurry, she’s lost too much blood.”

Astarion stares blankly at the puddle you’ve left behind– far too big for the amount of time you spent laying there as Karlach makes toward the stairs, disappearing around the corner.  The only thing running through his mind is you. Your gasps of pain, your slowing heartbeat, the light in your eyes. 

Before he can dive too deep into despair, Lae’zel is shaking him by the shoulders, “Snap out of it! You’re useless here, we must follow Karlach and get her back safely. Come!” she orders as she stands to leave. Her command awakens something within him, something accustomed to following orders. He stands, and dashes to catch up with Karlach and Lae’zel, both of whom had already made their way out to the city streets. 

Karlach was jogging as quickly as she could without jostling you too much, and Lae’zel took a defensive position close behind her, ready to strike should someone dare to intercept them as they made their way to the Elfsong. He follows close behind, tears gathering in his eyes and blood rushing in his ears, and he realizes it’s your blood pumping through him.

He’d fed on you last night, and now you’d been hurt. Maybe if he had been able to control himself, if he wasn’t such a horrific, bloodsucking monster, you would have fought better, moved faster… This was his fault.

The only person he’d ever loved, on death’s door because of him. He didn’t notice when the tears began to fall, but once they started there was no stopping them. Lae’zel glanced over at him as the group passed the Baldur’s Mouth and cursed, “Chk! Astarion, run ahead. Tell Shadowheart to get ready. Now!”

Another command. He rushed ahead, almost instinctively, to obey, running as fast as his legs would carry him. When he finally climbed the stairs and burst through the doors he made a beeline for Shadowheart’s bunk. She was reading when he barged in on her. She glanced up, dropping the book when she took in his appearance: blood splattered on his hands and face, eyes wild, and panting from his sprint.

“Tav. Hurt,” he gasped, “No more potions.”

A steely expression overtook her features and she gave a curt nod, understanding what was needed. She led the way back to their common area as Lae’zel slammed the doors open, making way for Karlach to bring you in.

His breath hitched. You looked so fragile, so small in Karlach’s arms. The shaky rise and fall of your chest was his only comfort as he listened for your heartbeat. Slow, but still beating.

Karlach and Shadowheart kneel down, right there in the doorway to get to work, unwilling to waste precious moments moving you to a bed. The others gather nearby, worry marring their faces as they look on. As Shadowheart begins her healing incantations Gale places a gentle hand on Astarion’s shoulder.

“Come on, my friend. Staring won’t help her now. Why don’t you get cleaned up so you can care for her properly when she wakes?”

Astarion knows he is trying to distract him, trying to remove him from the situation should something go wrong, but he can’t find the energy to resist. He nods his head absentmindedly and allows Gale to lead him away.

…

It’s dark when you wake, and it takes a moment for you to assess your surroundings. Your head pounds, a splitting headache causing you to groan, the sound catching on your dry throat. Before you can sit up, a hand tightens its already-present grip on your own. You look to your side and see the disheveled form of your love.

“Star?” you croak, “What happened?” He swallows thickly, before taking a deep breath and moving his seat closer to your bedside. 

“You almost died,” his voice breaks on the final word, you can hear the tears in his voice, but you wait for him to continue, “Bastard nearly split you open, it took everything Shadowheart had to keep you alive.” And you faintly feel what remains of the wound that nearly ended you. It’s a dull ache, nowhere near as debilitating as before.

Your breath catches, “Gods,” you whisper, “The others? Are they alright?”

He quells your rising panic before it can take root, “They’re fine, love. Don’t worry about them, worry about yourself for once. How do you feel?”

‘My head hurts…” you whisper. He lets go of your hand for a moment, turning in the dark to retrieve something. When he faces you again, his hand cradles the back of your neck as the other raises a glass of water to your lips.

“Drink darling, this will help.”

The water soothes your sore throat as it passes your lips. When you finish, Astarion sets the glass on your bedside table and takes your hand back into his own, “Shadowheart will be back in the morning once she’s recovered, and Gale is brewing more healing potions than we’ll ever need. This will never happen again.” His hand squeezes your own with his promise.

You nod at his declaration, as if the sheer power of his will could prevent you from falling wounded.

“How long have I been asleep?” you venture.

“Just a few hours,” he whispers, reaching to brush his hand over your forehead. Whether it was to clear any hair from your eyes or simply to touch you as much as possible– you couldn’t tell. 

“Will you lay with me?” 

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, as if he was trying to cover his relief with that familiar self-assured persona, but couldn’t quite mask it. Carefully, he helped you shift over on the bed to make room for him. He crawled under the covers to join you, guiding you to rest your head on his chest. His arm wrapped firmly, yet gently, around your waist. You grasped at his shirt to ground yourself in the moment. You are here, you are safe.

His other hand came up to cover your own on his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your hand softly, and you sighed into him as you shuffled ever closer. His cool temperature soothed your lingering aches as your body heat sunk into him.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you whispered into the dark. His hold around you tightened for but a moment at your admission.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he hushed back, “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, “I should have given you more cover fire, you were outnumbered. I shouldn’t have fed from you the night before a battle. I should have had a bloody potion to save you… It’s my fault you got hurt,” he confessed.

“Oh, my love,” you breathed, “It’s not your fault. It could never be your fault. It was just bad luck, please don’t do this to yourself,” you clutched his shirt as his breath hitched beneath you.

“Astarion listen to me,” your voice was stern, yet soft, “No one had healing supplies, it was not your responsibility alone. And I feed you because I love you and can’t stand the thought of you going hungry. It’s my decision, my choice, and my fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for today.”

You felt him nod above you, silently agreeing with your conviction. He took a moment to compose himself, the day’s events overwhelming him at your insistent tone.

“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning down to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. You sighed in relief, melting into his embrace. “Now get some sleep darling, you’re much too assertive for the day you’ve had.”

You huff a soft laugh, glad to see a sliver of his charm shine through. But he’s right, your outburst did little to stave off the ache in your bones. You settle against Astarion, content to sleep in his hold, knowing that whatever the next day brings he will be right there beside you.

---

Author's Notes: So I've never actually published a fic before. I've been reblogging/lurking from this page for like two years. I've been writing since I was young, but I never finish anything. Who knows, maybe I'll keep going. Let me know what you thought (critique greatly appreciated) and if you made it this far thank you so much I hope you enjoyed!!! :)

[kkuzushi]

“ 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!albedo x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: handjob, sensory deprivation; blindfolding & bondage, sensitive birthmark, fingering (giving), overstimulation, (sort of) public ‘sex’, no pronouns for reader

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.10k

✦ 𝗻otes: I’ve been missing this pretty boy so much, I just wanna turn him into a moaning mess. TT

Snowflakes fall gently to the ground, slowly covering the mountain with soft snow. The chilly atmosphere was more bearable now, mixed with the crackling sound of the bonfire behind you. The warmth of the fire relaxed your being, exhaustion wearing off from your body.

The stillness of the moment is accompanied with the heavy breathing of a blonde alchemist. The elegant heaving sparked your thoughts, how could someone be so beautiful just by the way their body shudders with every stroke of your hand?

“a-ah..! not so fastm-ngH! ♡” Albedo whimpered, voice cracking slightly as the speed of your hand on his cock surprised him. Despite his pleas of slowing down, his hips bucks onto your palm, wanting to receive more contact.

His head tilts back, if it wasn’t for the blindfold, you’d see the expression he has right now. The delicate appearance of his face mixed with his eyes rolling, oh it was arousing just to think about.

Alas, you have to control the temptation—depriving Albedo of sight to surprise him with every touch you give him. To add to his platter, his wrists are tied behind his back with red ropes, restricting him from breaking free of your grasp.

With his head tilted back, his pale neck was exposed, showing the four pointed star birthmark embedded to his skin. It was a wonderful sight; an eye-catching one at that.

Your head leaned down, lips making contact with his neck, directly on his birthmark. "guhAh~?!" a surprised moan left the chemist’s mouth, losing his sense of sight really leveled up the thrill of your actions.

His neck was showered with kisses, some bites here and there to mark his skin—all of it made Albedo squirm and whimper, his fingers curling inwards till his knuckles turned white.

"If you c-continue.. I'll– mmHNGH! ♡ ♡" His words were cut off as soon as he came on his work desk, making a mess on your palm. Albedo's body trembled with every cum that spilled out of him, whimpering as he tried to suppress his noises.

As he takes his time to calm down, you wipe your hand with a nearby towel before continuing with what you had in mind.

"Let's move on to phase two, shall we?" You asked rhetorically, pushing him down to the table gently, his back arching as if on command. Your hands reached down, caressing the supple skin of his ass.

Albedo laid half his body on the work desk, still breathing quite heavily after his release. The caresses on his rear was comforting to say the least, despite the fact that he can't really know your intentions for the next phase of the experiment.

"‘bedo," you cooed his name, "how many fingers am I holding?" a smile on your lips, it was unseeable but he could hear it directly from your tone.

The question confused him though, he was wearing a blindfold, how would he know?

"What exactly do you mean? I can't se– nghAH–!"

"How many fingers?"

"T-two.."

Two fingers were inserted in his puffy hole, it was tight and wet. You took your time playing around him, eliciting gasps out of his pretty mouth. His ass stays up in the air, slowly going back and forth into your fingers, squelching sounds coming out of it.

Your fingers reach deeper within his walls, causing a breathy whine out of him. A sudden thrust, hitting his prostate, the whine turns to a louder moan. His back arching as your finger curls inwards, his mouth hangs open as you continue ramming the squishy spot.

The alchemist's head throws back as he starts salivating on his desk, legs trembling as he tries to stay sane from the amount of sheer pleasure he's getting from your fingers alone.

Another finger was added, abusing his wet hole before he let out a soft cry, "I'm.. mngh–! gonna cum..! ♡" Cock twitching while ropes of cum shoots out, back arching sharply with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His entire body flinched as his orgasm lasted for a minute or two, finding the trouble of calming down.

A mere touch on his body causes him to flinch, he’s so sensitive that a slight brush of your fingertips could make him whimper. You grab his left thigh, lifting it up and placing it on the desk, “We’re getting to the end of this experiment,” you hummed.

The anticipation makes him weak, with one leg lifted up, you can see his cock. He was still hard, despite cumming twice already. He feels your hand once more, stroking his tip, emitting a surprised “gAH–!” out of him. As if that wasn’t enough, your fingers entered his hole again.

“W-Wait..! mmNgh hA-Ahh..! Too shenshitiveee!! ♡ ♡” Albedo bites his lower lip, trying to bottle up his moans yet it was futile. Everything felt too good, the stroking on his tip mixed with his hole getting fingered? It was all too much. The alchemist could barely contain himself, his mind was through overdrive with the pleasure you’re giving him.

He was no longer being quiet, his body was almost thrashing as he couldn’t restrain himself. If he wasn’t tied up right now, he’d be clawing the table. hard.

“a-ah! ah! t-too muchhhffghh–it’s too muchggAhH! ♡” The alchemist continued to babble until it turned into incoherent noises along with moans he can’t suppress any longer. His thoughts were fogged up, only thinking about how you’re stroking him with greater pace, three fingers hitting his prostate. He was being overstimulated to his core.

There was no surprise if his voice turned hoarse the next morning, all that matters is he’s enjoying his time, not that he could think of anything else anyway. “ohmmm– can’t anymorhgg..! chuminggghh–!! ♡ ♡ ♡”

The sluttiest moan came out of Albedo, his cock releasing again on your palm, slowly dripping down the floor. You took your fingers out of his hole to hold his waist, supporting his trembling body from falling down the desk. His back stayed arched, mouth hanging open as he continued to voice out his release. Loud pants came out of the alchemist, feeling the exhaustion hitting his body after three orgasms.

Once his noise dies down, you slowly remove the blindfold on his eyes, revealing the stream of tears now spilling to his cheeks. His eyes were glossy, daze and exhaustion mixed in his expression. “Did you enjoy that experiment?” you murmured yet he gave no reply.

His breath hitched as he gave a slight nod, unable to move too much. The way Albedo acts during his afterglow was amusing, you giggled and kissed his cheek, “Then we can conclude this experiment a success.”

[fauustic]

Hello! I hope you are having an excellent day! Soo I saw you asked for Miguel requests so.. only if it's possible and if you could, may I request some Miguel O'Hara dating hcs?? Please and thank you! ^^

you are so sweet! thank you for being for my first request, anon!!

Dating Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. angst. miguel's complicated, but he loves you more than anything.

warnings: insecurity, possessiveness, brief/subtle obsession? he's totally devoted to you, but in truth he just absolutely adores you. again, my spanish isn't the best so i had aid using a translator!

word count: 1745

You thought Miguel was infatuated before as he snatched any chance he could be with you? The moment he officially became your boyfriend, he couldn’t go one moment without reminding you of his affections.

Miguel is intense, eager to express how much he loves you after so long of keeping it contained. He can’t get enough of you, as his lips finally brush against yours– it takes him so much control to not black out and have his way with you.

It's not that he has a high sex-drive, he’s just so reliant on physical affection for reassurance. Miguel will take every chance to ghost his lips over your skin, whether it be between the juncture of your neck and shoulder or treating your hands as if they were made of gold. He felt as if it was his purpose to make you feel cared for, as his teeth grazed your knuckles.

His trust had been broken many times before you stepped in his life, which shocked him with fear at the idea of getting hurt again as he tried his best to open up about himself. But once you obtain his trust, show him that your intentions of being with him were nothing less than pure, the loyalty he has for you rivals anything you've experienced before. 

Though, due to the insecurities Miguel tries to keep to himself, some questions he may throw at you in the dead of night after returning back home late were heavy. He'd slip between your hold with a heavy sigh, skin still damp from the shower he took moments prior. You would ask him what's wrong, telling him he could talk about anything– and that's when the doubts and hurt rose to the surface.

"Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend, cariño?" Miguel would ask, voice broken and full of worry as if he's in physical pain at the idea that he's not doing enough for you. Not keeping you happy, or loved. Before you had the chance to wash away his worries, the exhaustion fogging his brain would make him ramble more, unearth his mysterious thoughts that he'd kept tucked away when the sun was shining. It was always a learning experience for you, and it made your relationship even stronger as Miguel learned to be more open and you learned how to reassure him that he was amazing by just being himself.

On nights like that, you'd drown him in kisses and swipe away the stray tears that may have fallen against his skin.

As much as Miguel loved dousing you in affection, he couldn't help but trip over himself like a lovesick puppy when you'd pass by a kiss his nose without a moment's notice, or slip your arm around his own to keep yourself from losing one another in the busy streets of Nueva York.

His demeanour was soft when it came to you because you were a safe space he craved for so long. And when that space is threatened, he can't help but show a part of himself that he won't ever be able to contain.

Miguel's jealous. Very much so.

He wasn't used to feeling such a way when the bouts of jealousy would flow into his veins and short-circuit his brain. Even before the two of you were officially together and you both shared the same space at work (you being a lab assistant at the time and him being a chemist), his scarlet gaze unconsciously scouted every move another individual made as an effort to be more than friends with you.

A seductive laugh from someone who leaned a little too close for his comfort or the whisper Miguel picked up on about a "bar a couple blocks away, we need to get drinks sometimes." Oh, it made him see red.

You never knew it, but your reserved, polite dismissal of intimate advances saved multiple people from returning to their stations with a burning glare or even a broken nose.

The jealousy and possessiveness came hand in hand.

So after a night of you possibly testing his patience unintentionally, he'd play off the excessive bite marks and hickies as heat of the moment the next morning. But you even knew how he felt about you, and the repetitive chanting of "You're mine, mi conejito. Mine, you hear me?" Another bite. "I ever see someone on top of you like that, taking advantage of your kindness. Los mataré." He'd sputter with his spit and your blood intertwining like the most delicious taste he's ever been blessed upon. He'd generously share the taste with you.

Gifts such as jewellery was common, but never anything too expensive or flashy, you warned him. You were more than willing to adorn the things he gifted with you in mind, but at the beginning of you two dating he had gone overboard with an engraved diamond necklace that had everyone's head spinning.

Miguel loved knowing that, a little fang smirk as he hummed to himself with his ego inflating like a balloon. You popped it easily, establishing the boundary of toning it down– but he couldn't help but forget sometimes. He'd beg for your forgiveness as he promised how he knew the rules, but the "ring he passed by on his way home was just, so you he couldn't pass up." Usually this excuse dived into a plethora of compliments, and relating the piece of jewellery to the idea that it has your favorite flower or color. You couldn't help but cave, the little argument long forgotten when he'd slip the expensive metal on you himself. Always ending with his lips to the gift and your skin in one kiss, a content expression in his gaze.

When he finally was comfortable enough to reveal his secret to you, his other life he desperately kept under the wraps, the confession was scarier than anything he's ever done in his entire life. Miguel faced criminals every sundown, putting his life at danger for his own morals. He's been genetically mutated, a painful process which he's still trying to accept. He's lost so many people in his life, Miguel would lose himself if you left too.

But as you accepted the truth, you soon accepted everything that came with it.

His teeth, the fangs he would muster up every and any excuse for, would be freely showcased now in every cackle and smile he had to offer. His obsession with biting you strengthened tenfold. You thought the amount of marks you had beforehand when he got jealous was too many? He introduced you to a whole new reality.

Of course, with the cat out of the bag, Miguel would show all the things he deemed ugly about his transformation with a guilty stance and a downward gaze. He'd get mad at himself for not controlling his retractable claws when getting too into whatever he was doing with you, he'd grow distressed at how you'd react when his surroundings grew too overwhelming because of his different, more advanced senses. 

It wasn't until you finally caught Miguel when he slipped into your shared apartment where you drilled it into his head, lovingly, that he shouldn't be ashamed to be himself around you. That's what you're there for, to be his biggest supporter. By that night, he would be bent over on the toilet seat in the small space of your shared bathroom, hissing when alcohol came in contact with his wounds and purring when a massage relieved his tension. Stories became common between the two of you, shared within the safety of bathroom walls and fluffy towels. Miguel would recall almost every detail of a specific mission or an on-the-whim job. Sometimes, he could feel the anxiety in your soul, but he'd reassure you with a promise and a sweet kiss. Suddenly, Miguel became very good at lullabies.

Miguel was needy, in a way where he couldn't stop himself from asking for another kiss when you'd already given him fifty. He also would hound to give you one more kiss when you refused, which made him pout in a way he'd never show anyone else.

Pet names became like a second language as Miguel sputtered almost all of them under the sun, except the ones he obviously found distasteful. "ángel, cariño," were no doubt something he called you often, but once the both of you grew more comfortable in your relationship he soon began calling you things that reminded him of you; "Mi conejito, mi lucero del alba." You would ask him why you reminded him of a bunny, and with a cheeky laugh he'd say because he's the "big bad wolf" in the silliest way possible. Yet, a more serious answer came to the term of endearment "my morning star." 

Miguel began calling you that due to his relief of seeing the morning sky peek through the pitch black, lighting up stars before drowning them out. You are the morning star he finds and catches every time the late night bleeds into early day, reminding him that the danger is over until the next night. You were his protector, as his scars met cold kisses and blood found the warm press of a washcloth. You kept him hopeful.

Miguel was a complicated boyfriend, but his heart bled for you. If you found yourself overwhelmed and needed a break or a split altogether– of course he'd accept your wishes. Was he truly the man of honor he tried to believe he was if he couldn't let a single person step out of his life for their own happiness?

It hurt him badly, and despite the swirling thoughts of bringing you back and keeping you to himself– he never allowed himself to cave. Miguel tried to play the hero, and despite knowing that most would view him as a monster– you wouldn't want that for him. You wanted him to be happy more than anyone ever had, you just couldn't take his complexity. And that's okay, Miguel knew that.  It's unlikely your relationship would ever take such a heartbreaking path.

You two are together still, happy and settled into your own routine. Miguel, being able to find a balance within his chaotic mind and you were able to find a purpose for someone you loved.

Miguel needed you as much, if not more than you needed him. He was absolutely enthralled with you, devoted until his last breath.

[khaylin27]

The Alchemy

pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader (past relationship)

series: the tortured poets department

synopsis: the alchemy is a term coined in the old days before chemist but back then the aim was to produce gold from other elements by mixing certain chemicals. knowing that she is now with the man of her dreams; she came out of the dark in which she has stayed in for a very long time and found the person in which there was 'no denying the alchemy' that if they were together, there's gold, which to her means love.

warnings: literally none because it's all fluff

author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU'VE GIVEN THIS SERIES 🥹😭🩶 also i had a different collage for this but i didn't like it so here's a new one

This happens once every few lifetimes These chemicals hit me like white wine

Marriage happens every few lifetimes, but not for you. You once thought you were going to marry Carlos. Looking back now, you're extremely grateful that you didn't marry Carlos last year. The 'chemicals' of love that you had with Carlos had an intoxicating effect similar to white wine.

I circled you on a map I haven't come around in so long But I'm coming back so strong

After the Australian Grand Prix, you and Oscar decided to spontaneously get married here since all of the important people in your life are here in his home country. The wedding ceremony was being held at the beach that Oscar's parents had private access to.

As you're walking down the aisle with your father, you start tearing up seeing Oscar wait for you at the alter. Everything you've always wanted is finally happening.

Once you reach the alter, your father gives your hand to Oscar. "Take care of my daughter." Your father smiles as tears form in his eyes.

"Forever and always." Oscar says to your father and takes your hand from him. Oscar walks you up the alter and you both look at Zak. Zak was officiating the wedding ceremony.

"The bride and groom have decided to say their vows to each other." Zak looks at you telling you to go first.

"Oscar Jack Piastri. I can't believe we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other." You smile in disbelief that you're actually getting married. "I remember when we first met, we had a shot of tequila together cheering to new beginnings for both of us. That night Lando ended up wasted while I was a little bit tipsy. You drove us back to our hotel on an empty Las Vegas Strip. The song 'Downtown Lights' by the Blue Nile started playing in your McLaren and we found that we both loved this song. We sang it loudly while Lando was passed out drunk in the back seat. I didn't know it at that time but it was going to be alright because I found the love of my life." Oscar wipes the tears falling from his face while you continue to speak.

"That week was the first time coming back to the paddock in so long. I remember breaking down in Lando's room because of something an ex said about my papaya family and I. You were so worried about me even though our relationship was barely building. I remember you told me 'it's time to crack these locks from him and start throwing rocks at that past relationship.' After that night I circled you on the map of my heart and came back so strong." You finish your set of vows and the Oscar speaks his.

Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

"Y/N Marie Norris. If you're shocked that we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other. Well honey, I'll do you one better. I'm surprised I'm marrying a MILF." Everyone including you two laughed at the joke Oscar made about you being older. "But in all seriousness, I'm so happy I'm getting to marry you. I remember when you told me that night in Abu Dhabi that you loved me. I was the happiest man alive because I started to love you too." Tears start dripping from your face as you recall the night in Abu Dhabi.

"I know you have been through the slammer in your past relationship, but the universe knew your heart was always reserved for me. There was no reason to fight to alchemy because you're the one for me."

Once Oscar finishes his vows, Zak continues with the ceremony. You two put your rings on each other and Zake announces you two as Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

yourinstagram thank you to the man that dumped me, i found the man the universe reserved for me 💍🤍✨

oscarpiastri i love my milf wife 😏

yourinstagram LOVE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GET ME PREGNANT BEFORE YOU CALL ME THAT landonorris you're basically a milf @/yourinstagram yourinstagram i'm only 26 😭 landonorris you're basically 30 at this point sister, you can't deny it. please give me a niece/nephew soon 🙏 leo can't be my only nephew, he needs a cousin charlesleclerc i agree with this. @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri please have a child soon so leo can have a play mate. alexandrasaintmleux preferably a human one so i can convince charles to give me one too @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri i'll start working on it soon 🫡

user1 OSCAR'S COMMENT IS SO UNHINGE I LOVE IT HAHAHA

user2 i love that lando is playing along with it too HAHAHA they were always meant to be family 🥹 user3 i love that alexandra and charles are playing along too user4 maybe baby piastri might be coming soon 👀

oscarpiastri honestly, who are we to fight to alchemy? mr. and mrs. piastri 💍

yourinstagram the love of my life 🥺🤍✨

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logansargeant so glad you found the girl of your american dreams

liked by author and yourinstagram

landonorris STOP RUBBING OFF ON MY MAN HE'S AUSTRALIAN yourinstagram excuse me @/landonorris he's legally mine now step aside

zbrownceo congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍🧡

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yourinstagram thank you zak for officiating the wedding. this wouldn't have happened without you 🥹

mclaren the papayas are now married 🥹🧡 congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍 now we need papaya babies

racerbia please we need a papaya baby around the paddock @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 🥹👶🧡 yourinstagram we're working on it @/mclaren @/racerbia 🫡 user1 BABY PAPAYA IS IN THE WORKS!!!

f1news A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN: After 4 months of knowing each other, Oscar Piastri and Y/N Norris, Piastri's teammate's sister, decided to tie the knot. This is definitely better than the disaster of a wedding Norris had with Ferrari driver, Carlos Sainz.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri!

user1 the way she went from thinking she lost the love of her life to then finding the love of her life on the team where she truly belonged at 🥹🧡

user2 CARLOS BETTER BE CRYING AT WHAT COULD'VE BEEN

user3 papaya love 🥺🧡

****

I haven't come around in so long But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

After your wedding and honeymoon, you shortly found out that you were 10 weeks pregnant. You didn't notice you were pregnant at first with all the traveling you do until you took a break on your honeymoon. At the end of the trip, you felt like you had a stomach bug but it wasn't. When you went to the doctor to check what was wrong, she calmed you down by telling you that you were pregnant.

You've never seen Oscar so happy in your life other than your wedding day; you were shock on the other hand. At the doctor visit you asked your doctor when she thought the baby was conceived and she said January 22. That was the night when you made love for the first time.

"I still can't believe I'm pregnant," you exclaim as you two were relaxing on the couch. Oscar puts his hands on your stomach and starts rubbing it. "I don't think I can go to the races anymore."

"I know honey, it's okay." Oscar kisses your lips softly. "I know you'll support your favorite guys no matter what."

"Actually you're my favorite, Lando is ..." As you were about to continue you started to remember the comment Lando put on your wedding post. "Lando is going to be so happy that he's getting a niece or nephew soon."

"I understood the assignment Lando, Charles, and Alexandra told me to do." You laugh together recalling how they all wanted you two to start having a child as soon as possible.

****

For your 27th birthday, you decided to celebrate in Miami where Lando and Oscar were racing at. Even though Oscar wasn't on the podium that day, you were so happy for Lando. Finally Lando got his first ever win in F1.

Once Lando got away from the crowd and back into his private room in the garage, you decided to congratulate him. "Congrats little bro. It's been a long time coming." You hug Lando tightly but then he pulls away feeling your 15 week baby bump.

"Y/N are you pregnant?" Lando asks still on his high of happiness, you nod yes and Lando gets more excited. "YES THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

"That's why she hasn't been coming to the races because we wanna make sure the baby is safe." Oscar explains to a very happy Lando.

"My doctor finally approved me to travel to certain countries. I'm making a comeback to where I belong." You smile as Lando hugs you one more time.

****

The next race you went to was Emilia Romagna Grand Prix, you were currently 18 weeks pregnant. You decided to stay in Oscar's private room since you wanted to ditch the crowds.

Once the race was over and the crowds went home, Oscar, Lando, and Charles with Alexandra came into Oscar's private room to see you. You had messaged Alexandra earlier telling her you wanted to catch up with her and meet baby Leo.

"Hey Y/N ..." Alexandra stops talking after seeing your growing baby bump. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!" Charles finally comes in with baby Leo in his hands.

"You understood the assignment." Charles smiles at Oscar and gives him a side hug. "Congrats my friend."

Your celebration of happiness was interrupted by a Spanish man knocking on your door, "Lando where are you?"

Lando opens the door wide to let the Spanish driver in, "What's up Carlos?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on getting 2nd. It was one hell of a fight." He smiles at Lando until he looks around and is confused what's going on. "Why are you guys here?" Asking Charles and Alexandra.

Alexandra, happy for your bundle of joy says, "Y/N is pregnant. Isn't it exciting?"

"It is," you smile at Carlos with your pregnancy glow radiating off you. "Oscar was so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby girl. As soon as we told Lando about the gender, him and Oscar were online shopping on the couch together." You look back at Alexandra telling her about your pregnancy.

"My niece needs to have the best of the best. Oscar and I were looking at the McLaren merch to see if the factory can make baby versions of it." Carlos didn't care what Lando was saying because all of his attention was on you. Oscar's hands were wrapped around you and your midsection. "Carlos are you listening?"

"Yeah," Carlos coughs. "Congrats on your pregnancy Y/N and Oscar." Carlos says and leaves the McLaren room.

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads Beer sticking to the floor Cheers chanted, cause they said There was no chance, trying to be The greatest in the league Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

It was the end of the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles had won the race and Oscar was in second place. As soon as Oscar parked his car and ran out to you so he can hug and kiss. All cameras were on you two as this was the first time you were showing your baby bump to the public. Before Oscar went up to the podium, he kneeled down and kiss your baby bump.

The rest of the McLaren plus Lando, lifted Oscar away from you so that he can get to the podium. There Oscar and Charles got their trophies while you and Alexandra were smiling happily at them. Once the national anthems were played, the drivers got to spray each other with champagne.

There's no chance to be the greatest in league due to Max's dominance in F1, but you knew Oscar was on a high right now in life. From getting married, to soon having a baby girl, and now getting his first podium of the season. Life was just beautiful.

These blokes warm the benches We been on a winning streak He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E"

Once Charles was done with his post race interview, the interviewer starts talking to Oscar. "Congrats Oscar on your first podium of the season and becoming a father soon. It's amazing how these two happened weeks apart."

"Thank you for the congratulations. From getting married at my home country, to finding out we'll be having a baby girl, to now getting my first podium of the season. I'm truly on a high with life right now." Oscar smiles at the camera knowing that you're watching the post race interview with Lando.

"Right now McLaren is in 3rd place for constructor's standings compared to last year's standings at 6th place. Tell me what you and Lando are doing for the team." The interviewer asks.

"Well Lando has been on a winning streak getting podiums after China but to be honest we're not doing anything different. It's all my wife's doing. I joke with her that she's like heroin but this time with an 'E' at the end." Everyone except for Carlos in the room laughs at Oscar's little joke.

"And soon you're going to be having a baby girl." Charles adds to the conversation. "You'll have two lucky charms on track." They both smile at the interviewer before they move on to Carlos' interview.

This happens once every few lifetimes

yourinstagram this happens once every few lifetimes 🌊 ✨

tagged oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri thank god for the alchemy or else our love would've never created this ✨

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taylorswift congrats mama can't wait to meet her

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user1 mother swift approves of oscar and y/n using the alchemy lyrics 🥹

user2 MOTHER IS ACTUALLY BECOMING A MOTHER AHHHHH

mclaren BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON 🥺👶🧡✨

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baby papaya coming soon 🧡

tagged yourinstagram

mclaren baby papaya is already so loved by the mclaren family 🥺🧡

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racerbia yay! i get to be a tita aunt to a little papaya 🧡

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landonorris IM CALLING DIBS ON BEING THE GOD FATHER

yourinstagram i already picked a god father and it isnt you landonorris WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT ISN'T ME? charlesleclerc it's me and alex landonorris WHAT!! @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri say sike 😭 oscarpiastri she's messing around with you of course your the god father landonorris thank god 😅 charlesleclerc have another one already so i can be the god father to that one yourinstagram LET ME HAVE MY BABY FIRST

user1 not lando and charles fighting over who's gonna be the god father 🤣

user2 i love how they’re calling the baby "baby papaya" instead of "baby piastri" 🥺

f1news BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON: After Oscar's first podium of the season, the couple has announced that they are expecting their first bundle of joy weeks after getting married. The driver had made it know that Y/N Piastri, his wife and teammate's sister, was expecting after running to her before he went on the podium.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri on your bundle of joy!

user1 OSCAR MOVING IN THE FAST LANE WHILE CARLOS IS GETTING HIS HEART PUNCTURED LIKE HIS WHEEL 🤣

user2 wonder how carlos is feeling after seeing his ex fiance go from getting married to now being pregnant in a span of a few weeks

user3 who cares because he missed his shot of having this in his life

user4 did you see that carlos was about to cry while oscar was talking about y/n and the baby? 😭

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

next chapter

[stray-kaz]

Memento Mori : a Kaz Brekker x f!reader oneshot

A/N: A request! Thank you for this idea!

Summary: Reader is poisoned by a rival gang leader hoping to force Kaz to his knees by taking you down. Kaz is afraid and murderous, a fatal combination.

Reader’s nickname, because of her profession, is Bee. (And it’s just easier sometimes to allow use of some kind of name instead of being constantly vague).

Memento mori: remember you must die.

Warnings: Violence, blood, near death. Poisoning. Kaz near breaking point.

Inej flew up the stairs in the Slat to Kaz’s quiet office, Jesper tearing after her, coattails flying out behind him. Matthias waited at the bottom of the flight, your limp, still form in his arms. Nina stood next to him, sweat beading on her forehead as she pressed both hands hard down against your heart.

“I am not a healer, I am not a healer, I am not a healer” she kept muttering.

“You’re all she has” Matthias reminded her gently. “Just keep going.”

Kaz looked up from the ledger he was filling in, irritation written all over his features, when Inej and Jesper burst in, panting. They had run all the way from the bottom of the Barrel.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“It’s Bee” Jesper managed to gasp out. “Talyss stung back.”

Kaz stood with such force his chair skidded away and toppled over. He grabbed his cane from its position leaning against his desk and pushed between Jesper and Inej, making his way down the stairs faster than they’d seen before.

He didn’t make a misstep and he didn’t stumble or fall, but when he saw you, Kaz wondered briefly if this was what death felt like. His hands shivered inside his gloves as he raised a hand to remove an errant curl from your forehead. Nina stared; it was the tenderest thing she had ever seen him do. He loved you.

“My room” Kaz rasped, and stepped aside so that Matthias could carry you upstairs, Nina edging along the banister so she could keep your heart going.

Inej was just finishing preparing Kaz’s bed when you were laid down gently on top of it. She covered up to your waist with a heavy blanket and Nina sank down beside you, her skirts rustling around her.

Kaz hovered like a ghost in the doorway of his own bedroom, watching your face, wan and lax. Your eyes rolled beneath their lids, and just as he was about to bite his tongue, come closer and hold your hand, Wylan skidded into the room and did just that. His knees slammed onto the wooden floorboards and, bright eyes wild, fluffy hair in disarray. He squeezed your hand and you whimpered, still unconscious.

Kaz took a threatening step into the room, but Jesper moved to block him, shaking his head firmly. Kaz glared at him, but for once, Jesper didn’t flinch.

“He’s her friend” he said quietly.

It was true, and Kaz knew it. Wylan was his chemist, bombmaker, demo man. And you were his poison maker, his sting, and the love of his abominable life. You worked with Wylan most days and were more now like brother and sister. He loved you, too.

Wylan looked up at Jesper then, an idea sparking in his eyes. 

“You can take the poison” he said, looking suddenly a little feverish himself.

Jesper glanced uneasily around the room as he suddenly felt all eyes on him. He rocked back on his heels, met Kaz’s implacable gaze.

“I’ve never done it” he beseeched, spreading his hands out wide. “This is what killed my mother, Kaz.”

He felt a tug on his hand and glanced down at Wylan.

“You wouldn’t need to take all of it, Jesper. She practices with poisons every day, taking small amounts to build up immunity, always with an antidote to hand. Tonight, you are the antidote. She just needs enough gone for her system to start fighting on its own” he told him.

Jesper looked at Kaz again; he said nothing. Jesper sighed quietly and gently nudged Inej out of the way so he could sit opposite Nina and clasp your other hand. He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling his way along the channels of your veins, almost able to taste the metals in your blood.  Fine dark veins rose on the back of your hand and your eyes flew open to stare at Jesper. You tried to pull your hand away, but he held fast, swallowing hard against the pain.

Kaz’s jaw clenched so tight he thought he felt a tooth crack when your first cry rent the air. Tears spilled over your lashes and onto your cheeks, and you tried again and again to pull away from Jesper, but he was stronger than you and could sense the end of it.

Wylan held tightly to your other hand and Matthias stood sentinel behind him, a stony set to his jaw, though his eyes were worried. Kaz had never seen you cry tears of pain. He had never heard the animal sounds wailing out of you, howling at the walls and the window. He had never seen you break.

He tightened his grip on his cane. He was going to find Talyss and his band of thugs, beat him nearly to his grave and then pour his poison down his throat to send him the rest of the way.

As he turned to leave, he felt a hand lightly brush his sleeve and looked to see Nina. He raised his eyebrows impatiently, waiting.

“Bee is strong enough” Nina said steadily. “There is hope for her, Kaz.”

He merely shook off her hand and spoke over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Hope is dangerous, Nina.”

As Dirtyhands made his way to the bottom of the Barrel, gutter dwellers avoided eye contact and leapt out of his way, edging back into the shadows. He heard the whispers as he passed, cold fury and determination disguising his limp. There were those nearby him who knew why he was there and those who had no idea and were terrified to see him. Either way, both types of people hid their faces and did their best to remain undetected.

The door to Talyss Novak’s converted warehouse was locked, which didn’t surprise or deter Kaz. Normally, he’d go quiet and careful, but tonight he didn’t care for quiet or careful. He didn’t reach for his lockpicks, he simply hefted his cane in both hands and swung it at the door handle. It crunched under the weight of the crow’s head and the inner lock clattered onto the floor on the other side.

Kaz pushed the door out of his way with the toes of one shoe and stepped across the dark threshold, cane still gripped tightly in one fist. His other hand had slipped into his pocket, gloved fingers tightening slightly around the vial of poison he had picked up from the workshop you shared with Wylan along the way. He had no idea if it was the same poison or what it did, but judging by the thick red “!!!” on the white label, it would hurt.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he twisted out from under it, wrenching slightly but not caring. He swung the cane like a truncheon and felt something give wetly under his strength. There was a strangled scream and then they all came out of nowhere, trying their best to take down the bastard of the Barrel. But Kaz would not be taken anywhere tonight. He could smell blood, and he wanted it all, the sounds of your pain still ringing in his ears.

When there were bodies heaped around his feet, some still and noiseless, some groaning pitifully, he reached down and grabbed the coat collar of the most alive one. He moved in nice and close, face blood stained and dripping.

“Your boss” he hissed, teeth bared. “Now.”

A weak hand pointed towards a twisting stair shaped shadow and Kaz dropped him back to the hard concrete floor and stepped away, the men already forgotten.

The staircase was quiet and he could hear the soft sound of blood on his glove slipping on his heavy cane. He reached the top and moved silently along the landing, again reaching for the poison in his trouser pocket. A door at the furthest end of the hallway stood ajar. His instincts screamed that the worst of Novak’s men would be behind that door, but he could not bring himself to care. They would all die.

As he approached the dark side of the door, he heard his name spoken.

“Brekker.”

The door swung open and a single lone man appeared, backlit by the interior. With a flick of his thumb, Kaz released the tiny vial stopper and circled finger and thumb around the glass neck.

“How’s your girlfriend? Still breathing? Or dead as a dormouse?”

Kaz walked forward slowly, clenching his teeth against the pain of hiding his limp. Peripheral room checks told him he was alone with Talyss. The man was a maniac, or stupid. Kaz was betting on the latter.

“Did you really think you could take me down by removing my sting? Novak, I don’t need anyone. You made a mistake thinking that I do.”

“Then why’re you here, Dirtyhands?”

“To make you pay for that mistake.”

Kaz decided to temporarily forgo use of his cane; instead he struck with his other hand, shoving the vial with its contents into Novak’s mouth, swallowing hard against the bitter bile that rose in his throat as his gloved hand forced the man’s jaw up and shut and he heard the splintering of glass plink against his teeth. 

Novak screamed through closed lids, Kaz’s hand tightening even harder. Thirty seconds dripped past and Novak finally wrenched himself away, opening his mouth to spit glass and a damp pinkish mist. He coughed, choking, and Kaz realised enough glass had been inhaled to perforate his lungs. Talyss Novak was drowning in his own blood, before the poison even did its work.

Kaz helped him along a little; he lifted his cane and lightly prodded the older man in the centre of his chest with the solid flat end. It didn’t take much prodding before he was flat on his back on the cold rough concrete, rasping blood soaked air in through piecemeal lungs.

Kaz stepped closer and leaned over him, watching until his eyes started to stare and his chest stopped spasming. Then he turned and walked out the way he came, blood and fear pounding in his ears.

When Kaz finally staggered back in through the doorway of his bedroom in the Slat, he saw you sitting up in his bed, leaning heavily against Jesper’s chest but rosy cheeked, damp hair sticking to your forehead. Your eyes were opioid bright, glossy and damp looking, but they focused on him with the ferocity he was used to, and something loosened inside his chest. He opened his mouth, and what came out surprised all of them, but most of all him.

“Please.”

Nina held you up while Jesper eased out from behind you, then plumped several pillows up behind your back and shoulders. Inej briefly touched your shoulder and Wylan blew you a kiss. Nina leaned hard on Matthias as they walked out of the room, followed by the other three.

Alone finally, Kaz shed his cane and coat and almost collapsed onto the bed next to you. He retained his gloves, which you understood; in your current state, sweating and clammy, the touch of your skin on his would remind him too much of Jordie. But he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you down onto his chest, and held on as tightly as he thought you could cope with. 

You sighed.

“Is the problem dealt with?” you asked quietly, your voice sounding uncomfortable and hoarse.

Kaz scoffed a chuckle and nodded.

“Yes. The problem is dealt with. No more stinging the stinger.”

“Good. ‘Cause it pretty much sucks.”

Kaz tipped your chin up slightly so he could see your eyes, his expression serious.

“You will improve your immunity” he said, a statement and not a question. “I do not want to do that again.”

What he meant was: I will not survive your near death again. If you die, I will also.

You gazed back at him and nodded.

“I will” you promised. “Never again, Kaz.”

He nodded back, leaned his head on the wall of pillows and closed his eyes, settled for now with the knowledge of you safe in his arms.

Tagging: @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r​ 

[bby-deerling]

counting coins: law x reader

can be read as platonic, very self indulgent (i collect coins and am an unemployed chemist and simply wish law would take me to sea with him) wc 1.3k

While you had heard whispers that the Heart Pirates were spending some time on your island, the last person you expected to see on your trip to the local coin shop was Trafalgar Law.  You had seen his bounty poster plenty of times before—his goofy bucket hat and cocky smirk were plastered on just about every public surface in town—but something about the Surgeon of Death seemed far less intimidating in the flesh as he precisely ran his tattooed fingers through the stacks of coins sealed in cardboard holders, occasionally pulling one out to examine it. 

Trying not to stare, you started making your way towards the opposite side of the store to parse through coins of your own.  However, it soon became clear that if you wanted to hunt through the store’s supply of antique commemorative silver dollars, you would have to breach the tall, tanned man’s personal space.

Quietly slipping into the space between him and the wall, you began searching in vain for your target—a coin from a specific year and mint that was struck erroneously with high relief on the eyes.  Turning up empty, you observe the surgeon settling on a coin of his own: a different misprint coin that you already had in your collection that made the figure on the head of the coin look like he had long rabbit-like teeth.  Being nosy, you looked at the label on the cardboard casing surround the coin; the grading was iffy enough to justify haggling, and the price was far too high.

“You better not pay that much for that.” you whispered.  He tried to hide the fact that he was slightly startled, but you were too close together to miss the shudder in his shoulders.

“Wasn’t planning on it.  I’ll find it somewhere else.” he replied, taking the opportunity to look you over, eyes softening slightly once he realizes you’re likely not a threat, and then widening as you slip the coin out from between his fingers.

“Let me handle it.” you whispered, taking it up to the front of the store and flashing a large smile to the older gentlemen behind the counter.

“I’m interested in this coin, but I just wanted to make sure it was labeled correctly!  It’s marked AU, but the details in the hair aren’t there to justify it.  Even calling it Extra Fine might be a stretch…” you said, pointing at the page in your pocket-sized coin grading book.

Law grits his teeth and prepares to cut his losses and slink out the door as one of the men begins to laugh boisterously, before being taken aback by the man’s next words.

“Are you trying to rip the poor girl off?” he asks his coworker, causing the man you were speaking with originally to flush red with embarrassment.  “Sorry about the bad label sweetheart, it’s yours for 500 berries.”  You beam and hand over the berries, profusely thanking them in the process while Law tries to keep his jaw from dropping on the floor.  He knew damn well that you had to have nitpicked the coin to hell in order to call it Extra Fine, let alone snag it for a third of its usual asking price.  Law expects you to smirk at him as you pass by and exit the store, but the smile you give him is innocent and genuine.  He waits a few moments after you leave before going after you and is relieved to find you hadn’t run off and were waiting on a bench outside for him.  As he approaches you, you make a peace sign at him, catching him slightly off guard.

“Here you go!” you exclaim standing up and, placing the coin in his palm.  He reaches in his pocket to attempt to pay you back but you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, the price I paid for that was borderline thievery.” you say.

“I’m impressed.” Law replies, still offering you the berries despite your protests.  Your cheeks turn pink as you continue to refuse payment, saying you were simply happy to help him out since you already had one in your collection.  Law pauses for a moment, gazing at you intensely, causing a sheepish grin to break out on your face.

“I heard there’s a bookstore with a café inside down the street.  Let me buy you a drink and we’ll call it even.”

“I’d love that, I need to pick up something new to read anyways.”

Law smirks as you both begin to walk towards the café and you ramble about a novel you’ve just finished, admiring the dusting of pink on your cheeks.

“You on the hunt for anything in particular?” you ask after ordering your drink, trying to mentally guess what types of books the pirate captain enjoys most before he responds.

“Organic chemistry textbooks.  I need to brush up so I can replenish the medicine stock on my submarine.”  Something behind your eyes lights up at the mention of the subject.

“Don’t waste your beri, I’ve got a ton at home!  I’m more of a spectroscopist myself, but I studied organic synthesis for a few years…” you said, explaining your studies to Law as he listened intently.

“It’s just a bit difficult to find a job around here; there’s no real industry built up, and I can’t afford to sail anywhere else, so I’ve been selling my paintings to scrape by.” you finished, voice taking a slight downturn at the mention of your current career state.

“How much biochemistry experience do you have?” he asks you, sipping on his drink.

“The basics, I need to brush up on some of the more complicated metabolic pathways though.” you reply.

“Experience making bulk quantities of solution?”

“Tons.”

“How are you in small, dark spaces?”

“I seek them out.”

“For weeks at a time?”

“I’d be fine as long as I’m not completely alone.”

Law examines you for a moment, looking for any signs on your face that you were misrepresenting your own abilities, but found none.

“Trust me, you’ll wish you were alone after a few days.” he joked dryly.  He loved his crew dearly, but he wanted to make sure you were adequately warned about life on the Polar Tang before asking you the question that lingered on the tip of his tongue.  Law gulps down the rest of his coffee before speaking again.

“If you’re interested, I’d like to invite you to join my crew.  I need a chemist to help me out and relieve some of my workload.  The hours are long, the conditions are abysmal, and the sea is dangerous.  The pay is good at some times and horrible at others, but you’ll always have three square meals.  You’d spend most of your time either working with me or alone in the lab, but there’s twenty of us in total on the ship; you can meet them first before deciding if that’s what you’d like.”

You were flattered, and a bit taken aback by the offer.  Piracy had never been on your radar, but the opportunity to travel the world and learn a ridiculous amount of medicinal chemistry in a hands-on environment was calling to you like a siren’s song.

“I’ll have to buy some water-based oil paints.  Traditional ones give off too many fumes to use in a submarine.” you say with a smile, and you notice Law relaxes just the tiniest bit.  “I’m very interested, but I would like to meet the crew first, just to be sure.”

Law writes down the name of the bar and tells you to pack your things and meet them that night, and assures you if you were to change your mind there would be no hard feelings.  However, he couldn’t hide the relief he felt and the smile that crept across his face later that night when you fit in so well that Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo plead you to come along, leading the rest of the crew in a chant of “Please stay! Please stay! Please stay!”, followed by a cheer when you agree.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Pesky Period Pains

Prompt: Cramping Pain

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: you had managed to stave off periods but you could only do that for so long. But its very hard to hide things in the compound especially from your girlfriends.

TW: pain medicine, blood, period, cramps, bleeding on the bed (idk if that a warning or not lol), non-sexual nudity, Reader has their clothes removed (not in a bad way though don’t worry … you’ll see), hiding injuries / sickness, slight angst,

A/n whats this? A fic without vomiting for once? Crazy.

Curled up in bed the day had been going well until you realised you took to long to get more of your birth control. Your doctor had put you on birth control in your early teens before you became and avenger, your cramps being too painful for you to function and resulting in you missing a-lot of school. But you ran out last week and your ADHD had been kicking your ass lately so you forgot about the much needed trip to the chemist. Thinking you could just go tomorrow as its not like your period would appear over night. wrong.

Nat and Wanda were training in the gym like they did every Tuesday while you slept in. But when you realised with the first pang of pain in your midsection that it was a little too late for the birth control to stave off the period pains, you groaned. stuffing your face back into your pillow, before swallowing the urge to scream in frustration. you got up and threw on a pad before getting dressed quickly. you were craving chocolate. you could survive the cramps until after breakfast, and you couldn’t take painkillers on an empty stomach.

you had just finished drowning your pancakes in chocolate syrup and were not throwing back the tablets and some water when your girlfriends arrived. Nat smiled widely and came over to kiss you and hug you. “Detka,” you groaned, “your all gross and sweaty.” nat squeezed you in the hug chuckling before planting a kiss on your forehead. Wanda didn’t seem as happy. she sensed your discomfort before she even made it into the door. to be honest she sensed it from the gym, feigning exhaustion in favour of ending training early to check on you.

“what were you doing before we got here?” Wanda asked, hands crossed over her chest.

“making pancakes.” you shrugged, hiding a grimace as it jostled your midsection.

“i saw you put something in your mouth, Y/n don’t lie to me.” she was more concerned than angry but it did come across that way to you.

“i. was. eating. my. pancakes. Wanda.” you grit out, glad it seemed more like annoyance than the fact another cramp had hir rather hard.

“whatever.” Wanda dismissed angrily walking to get herself some pancakes. Nat frowned, normally Wanda was really sweet with you, only ever stern if you were being stubborn. she shrugged at you and followed Wanda to get some breakfast, only having had her pre workout shake so far. you didn’t wait for them, quickly finishing your pancakes and going to take a shower.

the girls frowned at your empty place when they returned and Wanda sighed. “somethings up with her nat i can sense it.”

meanwhile you stepped under the warm water, watching the red circle the drain and letting the heat relax your muscles. when another cramp hit you rested your head on your arm which steadied you against the wall. you didn’t want to risk leaving blood in your shared bathroom knowing nat was see it with her spy training, she noticed everything. Wanda would just freakout if she knew you were bleeding but didn’t know where from. And most importantly you didn’t want to bother them with your problems, feeling you were being a bit too needy lately having been sick the week before last.

you had come back to your old room, the one you stayed in before moving it with your girls. it was still your space. your gaming computer was still here, your switch and all your drawing stuff and tablet. your posters of Percy Jackson and your girlfriends still adorned the walls and the rainbow lights still worked above your desk. the bed had black sheets and you even still had some of your clothes in here. your many sketchbooks sat on the floating shelf by the desk and your blue couch and fluffy red blanket were still in the corner. the 84inch tv, courtesy of tony was mounted on the wall opposite the bed and you had painted a mural of the city scape on the far wall. it was as much your home as the room across the hall. your girls often found you in here during the day either drawing or gaming.

but you hadnt showered in here since moving to sleep over the hall. nat heard the running water as she went past, assuming you had done it so she could shower after her training this morning, she shrugged it off. unusual but not insane.

once you turned the water off you carefully towel dried yourself trying to avoid getting blood on the fluffy towel. getting dressed in fluffy pants and your oversized red hoodie nat had bought you at Disneyland, the one with the big picture of Mickey mouse on the front, you went and laid on the bed. after mindlessly scrolling through Netflix and putting on a random movie you snuggled up. after a few minutes the exhaustion of your body rebuilding an organ wiped you out and you fell asleep.

Wanda carefully opened the door to your room. frowning at yhe sight of you curled up asleep in the middle of the day. this was unlike you. the tv had an action movie playing and the sound of gunfire should have woken you up, but you slept on. Wanda turned out the lights and muted the tv before going to talk to nat.

“I’m telling you nat something’s off, shes been acting weird all day.”

“I’m sure shes fine, shes a big girl wands.” nat sighed drying her hair with a towel.

“i don’t know, you know how it is when shes hurt, she wont tell us even if shes bleeding out on the floor.” Wanda huffed pacing and running her hands through her hair.

“why don’t we go cuddle up to her in bed and we’ll talk to her when shes up again?”

“ok” Wanda sighed in defeat.

after carefully lifting the sheets and sliding in either-side of you nat took the tv remote frowning at the cheesy action movie.

“you cant even shoot arrows like that in real life.” she grumbled putting on something that Wanda would like. a sit com.

still asleep you curled up around Wanda’s leg as she lent against the headboard and ran her hands through your hair.

“she looks so fragile when she sleeps natty.” Wanda cooed

“thats because its hard to be a cocky asshole when your sleeping.” nat teased. but it wasn’t fun without your sharp come backs to quip against her.

“naaattt leave her alone shes cute when she sleeps.” looking down at you she noticed a grimace on your face when you held onto her leg tighter. thinking you were having a nightmare she went to wake you. unbeknownst to her it was just the medicine having worn off and the painfully cramps coming back full force. before Wanda could gently wake you, you shot up, blinking rapidly before feeling the wetness of the bed and shooting off the bathroom to change clothes. Wanda and nat frowned at each-other, you hadn’t even noticed them. nat hopped up and knocked on the door.

“y/n/n? can i come in?” she asked. you froze. what were they doing here.

“Y/n/n?” nat asked again.

“natty… um you should come here.” Wanda quietly said from the bed. she had pulled back the sheets to find a wet bloodstain on the sheets. Nat’s eyes widened almost comically.

“y/n let us in right now.” she banged her fists on the door. just as she swung to knock the door down you opened it, her foot stopping mid air as she tried not to kick you or fall over. at the sight of your bloody clothes she jumped into action. extending your arms with her hands she searched your body before stopping and looking you dead in the eyes.

“strip.” she said. you balked.

“what?”

“you heard me. strip. or i’ll have Wanda use her wiggly woos to do it for me.”

“natty-“

“No.”

“wands-“

“I’m with nat on this one sweetheart. we need to know your ok.” Wanda cooed softly having walked in behind nat.

“I’m fi-“

“if you were going to say your fine we found your blood on the sheets. so we know your not.”

before you were able to reply you were hit with a rather painful cramp that made you double over in an attempt to stop the pain. you groaned loudly and both your girls sprung into action. they knew you didn’t get periods so that couldn’t be it. but the last mission was weeks ago and you hadn’t left the compound without them since. so how did you get hurt? Nat was at your side in an instance. “y/n/n baby where does it hurt?” she ran a hand down your back up and down your spine. you merely groaned in response still hunched over.

“wands I’m gonna need you to-“

“don’t worry it got it.” she replied. before you could think you felt the cold air hit as you were suddenly without clothes. Nat’s eyes grew wide as she saw the red between your legs. you felt tears slide down your cheeks as the girls understood. they had seen you naked before so it didn’t bother you plus you knew you were safe with your girlfriends.

“oh sweetheart.” Wanda cooed, picking you up. “did you get your period love?”

more tears fell as she carried you bridal style to the bath. with a wave of her wrist there was warm water in the tub and her clothes were also gone. gently she hopped in placing you curled up in her lap. nat removed her clothes to show toned muscle and slipped in beside her. it was a big tub, tony was not one to spare expenses much to peppers dismay when she first brought home Morgan to find a car already with custom plates with Morgan’s name on it in the garage.

“tony what the hell is this?” she had asked pointing to the car, Morgan’s carseat in her hand.

“well its called planning my dear wife.”

“planning is writing it out on paper not buying it 16 years early.”

Wanda chuckled at the memory before focusing back on your. she carded a hand though your hair and you whined softly.

“gonna made the water dirty.” you whined “and i ruined my hoodie.” you sniffled “the one you and natty bought me from disneyland.” you cried. nat rubbed a circle on your back knowing this was the work of pesky hormones but doing nothing to invalidate your feelings. Wanda smiled down at you.

“why are you smiling.” you sobbed.

“oh sweetheart do you forget i have magic sometimes.” Wanda cooed

“oh.” you hiccuped.

“its already clean and folded on the bed which has fresh sheets.” she started kissing you all over your face, tasting the salty tears. “and natty and I will buy you ten more if we need to. anything for our sweet girl.”

“even the goofy one?” you smiled looking up with teary eyes.

nat chuckled. they were so whipped for you. “anything you can ever dream of of my love.” nat cooed. “and whatever we can buy with the new black master-card i have from tony.”

“how-“ you were going to ask how but another cramp hit and tears flooded your eyes as blood swirled in the bathwater.

“oh sweetheart don’t cry.” Wanda cooed seeing the water was making you upset she waved her hand and the blood disappeared from the water.

“honey i wouldn’t care if the bath was 100% blood as long as your ok. i would do anything for you.”

“we.” nat corrected “we would do anything for you.” Wanda rubbed circles over your stomach and her fingers glowed a soft red hue in the bath water as she took away some of the pain for you. you sighed in relief at her magic touch.

“and to answer your question, all it took was a little blackmail.” you laughed at her smirk.

“come one love lets get you washed up.”

when Wanda had finished scrubbing your body clean for you, you were too tired to do it yourself. nat dried you with a towel and slipped you back into your comfy and now, thanks to Wanda, clean clothes.

curling up in bed with nat, Wanda returned with food for all of you and a mountain of all different kinds of chocolate and popcorn.

“I vote we have a movie day today.” Wanda proposed. nat smiled at you and brushed the hair from your face, “id love that” she agreed “ what about you Y/n/n?”

“only if i get lots of hugs.” you mumbled in an embarrassed way that made the redheads hearts skip a beat.

“alright then.” wand climbed in beside you and put down the tray of food. “you get first pick Y/n/n” Wanda grinned and nat passed you the remote.

“here you go” you took it and placed a chocolate in your mouth. going to reach for another Wanda lightly slapped your hand away.

“food first.” she chided softly. you pouted and picked a movie. after the first 20 minutes or so you hd finished lunch and were happily curled in the arms of your girls munching chocolate. maybe you should get your period more often you thought. then another cramp hit making you keen softly. never-mind you thought. Wanda ran her magic fingers over you lower back and the pain stopped. you knew then and there your girls would always be there. you were never going to be alone again.

MASTERLIST

[astonmartinii]

hiii i was wondering if u could one where the reader is a scientist with lewis??

p.s ur amazing!!!!

raw chemistry | lewis hamilton instagram au

pairing: scientist!reader x lewis hamilton

in which a mercedes driver has unbelievable chemistry with a chemist

yourusername

liked by yourbff and 2,089 others

yourusername: the two sides of the (work? staff-bonding?) trip

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yourbff so fucking jealous of you

yourusername gotta make up for all those hours somehow

yourbff2 only you would find the cheesy chips at the monaco grand prix

mercedesamgf1

liked by georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 883,067 others

tagged: lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1: yet another win for lewis in monaco ✨

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user23 mega, mega shift from hamilton today

lewishamilton couldn't do it without everyone in the garage and back at the factory!

user64 this man is uncapable of not slaying

georgerussell63 huge shift 💪

user55 so so clear of the entire grid

f1gossipgirl

liked by user33, f1stan88 and 404 others

f1gossipgirl: lewis hamilton finally off the market? the world champion was spotted getting up close and personal with a mystery girl who is potentially in the second slide? do we think it'll last or is it just a post win romp?

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user90 we just taking pics of random people and creating drama now?

user35 my parasocial relationship in crisis but also am happy for lewis i'm going insane

user11 monaco does something to people i swear

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lewishamilton and 4,189 others

yourusername: back to the office 🧬

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yourbff smart and pretty - leave something for the rest of us

yourusername says you

lewishamilton you must be barium and beryllium cause you're a total babe?

yourusername i'm blushing ☺️ (did you google this?)

lewishamilton you're welcome ;) (yes i did)

user34 HELLO WHAT IS THIS ???

lewishamilton added to their story

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lewishamilton and 5,609 others

yourusername: happy people, happy times

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yourbff an invite to anything at this point would be nice

yourusername you complained the whole time last time

yourbff you people are the most insufferable (affectionate) people to third wheel

lewishamilton 🏄‍♀️ 🏄‍♂️

yourusername best teacher ever

mercedesamgf1

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 603,451 others

mercedesamgf1: lewis and george are having fun this summer break ☀️

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user44 ADMIN JUST EXPOSED LEWIS AND HIS GF??

user58 so is admin losing their job ? i'll miss you xx

user89 f1 twitter is about to go into melt down

this post has been deleted

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 10,781 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: you could say we have chemistry ;)

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lewishamilton who is using cheesy science puns now ?

yourusername are you an element cause i'd like to periodically bang you on a table

lewishamilton time and a place

georgerussell63 THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THIS COMMENT SECTION

alex_albon COVER YOUR EYES GEORGE

user33 i actually can't this relationship is so cute

user30 was originally scared about this relationship but if we get all this lewis content from it i can't be angry

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,209,877 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: forget hydrogen, you're my number one element xx

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yourusername is this our thing now? if so, you make me hotter than sulfur hydroxide mixed with ethyl acetate.

lewishamilton okay i actually don't know what that means but i love you xx

yourusername i love you too xx

user50 lewis trying to use science pick up lines is taking me out actually

sebastianvettel congratulations you guys !!

lewishamilton thanks seb

yourusername thank you sebastian, i've heard about your impressive bee garden - will need to visit soon x

mercedesamgf1 mum and dad

user77 admin kept their job?

mercedesamgf1

liked by pierregasly, georgerussell63 and 1,112,099 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1: new paddock mum and dad just dropped *insert a science pun here*

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yourusername i'm the solution to all of the grid kid problems

lewishamilton not your best, love

yourusername you're hardly helping

lewishamilton i'm not the scientist here

landonorris mum and dad please stop fighting

yourusername see lewis why won't you think of the children

lewishamilton they're not children, i've heard about the things they get up too

alex_albon no we've factually never done anythign ever

georgerussell63 i second this

note: hope this was the kinda thing you were thinking, sorry for how long it took, life got unexpectedly busy out of nowhere. also, i barely passed gcse science so i hope it makes sense lol xx