#getting sick and tired of it real quick

[anarchistdictator]

i hate refreshing my page and having to see my dumb little post from like, 5 days ago. and now when i refresh it i’ll have to see this stupid post too

like it completely just reduces all other posts on my followed to atoms

[yueebby]

keep dreaming! – gojo satoru

synopsis. down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he basically has a wet dream of you, you wear tinted lip balm, your first kiss w him (??), suguru plays devil’s advocate

notes. remember spring days!au but can be read alone. anyways, enjoy!! I am writing this while sick (yikes). also of course this wouldn’t be canon compliant if i had not included satoru and suguru’s dynamic! I tried my best to apply their interactions during the basketball match + while theyre leaving jujutsu tech as much as i can.

“satoru…” you murmur, looking up at him shyly. the two of you find yourselves alone in the classroom. a greedy smile plays on his lips, and you struggle to formulate words as your eyes travel from his cerulean ones to his lips. satoru can barely contain his excitement, the anticipation radiates from him like an electric charge.

“say it, [name]. tell me what you want.” he whispers back at you seductively, his eyes are spellbound onto yours. you whine before grabbing the collar of his uniform and pulling him onto you. your lips are soft, so soft. you were made for him, he’s sure, as your lips mold together. as a matter of fact, your lips are so soft that they feel eerily like his pillow–

"get up! we’re late to our mission!" suguru hits the top of satoru’s head with the spare pillow on his bed. the white haired boy immediately activates his innate technique to block his best friend’s attacks.

it was going to be a long day.

“it’s unlike you to wake up so late.” suguru’s hands pause over the shoji door of the classroom. his concern for gojo was more important than the imminent lecture they were going to receive from yaga for their tardiness. “plus you totally sucked today.”

their mission had taken an unexpected turn for the worse when the pair had found themselves stuck in an incomplete domain. the narrow escape was only possible as a result of suguru’s quick thinking with rainbow dragon.

the bandaid on satoru’s cheek is a silent testament to the mission gone wrong.

“i’ve just been tired.” satoru mumbles quietly, heat rising to his cheeks as the memory of the dream flashes in his mind. he was too deep in thought to counter his friend’s insult.

something was definitely wrong. suguru raises his eyebrows, “and it has nothing to do with the fact that i caught you making out with your pillow?”

“i– what?” the heat has spread from his cheeks to all over his face. he hopes his sunglasses cover the blush that was blossoming on his face. suguru lets out a breath of relief. satoru’s blush meant that the matter at hand was only trivial…

“don’t tell me you were dreaming of [name],” his best friend smiles knowingly. satoru groans. suguru definitely knew, he was just playing with him at this point.

their conversation is cut short when the doors slide open by themselves to reveal a certain brown haired girl with a distasteful look on her face.

“satoru is having wet dreams of [name]?” shoko remarks quietly, making sure her comment is only heard by the two males. “i would act surprised, but it’s not like you’re above it.”

“just who do you think i am?” satoru looks down at his friend.  

“a real pervert.” shoko simply replied before quickly making her way back to the desk next to yours. 

satoru’s eyes follow her and make their way onto you. like a fly making its way into a honey trap, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. too busy burning the image of you absorbed in your textbook, he absorbs every little detail from the way your soft lips slightly part to mouth the words of the book to the way your leg bounces underneath the table. were you using a new lip balm? there was a subtle shade difference from your usual choice. gojo makes a mental note to ask you for the exact brand for… personal reasons.

in his trance, satoru fails to notice yaga’s scolding. he had also failed to notice how suguru had already made his way into a desk.

“satoru since you seem so eager to continue standing, i assume you volunteer to solve this equation.” yaga angrily taps the blackboard with a worn out price of chalk. 

satoru stiffens up, not because of yaga’s wrath, but because your attention has shifted from the textbook to him. you blink up at him, the image dangerously similar to his dream. satoru gulps, eyes quickly flitting to the equation messily written on the board. 

at least math equations don’t make him feel like his heart is beating out of his chest.

it didn’t take a genius to notice how quiet satoru has been today. as if he were in his own world, you notice.

“i fear that i may have been giving satoru too much attention lately,” you mutter to your two other friends, mind running laps trying to recall all of the intimate moments you have spent with the white haired fiend— all of which could be characterized as highly inappropriate. 

“you always do,” suguru lazily rests his chin on the palm of his hand on the desk across from you. after yaga’s lecture, the seats had been rearranged appropriately so that the four of you could enjoy lunch together. “lay some of your love on us too.” he gestures his chopsticks to himself and shoko who were sitting side by side.

one could argue that the subtle smirk playing on suguru’s lips were a lot more dangerous than satoru’s. you’re afraid that suguru has started a game that will only end with your downfall.

the silver tongued boy seemed to catch satoru’s attention with his comment.

“ha– mad that you don’t pull? get your own girl,” satoru speaks up for the first time, glaring at his best friend through half lidded eyes from above his dark glasses. the half eaten melonpan in his hand was long forgotten.

“last i checked, [name] wasn’t your girl,” suguru places his chopsticks back down on his bento box. 

you could’ve sworn you saw an irk mark appear on the side of gojo’s face. 

shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold, sips on her juicebox silently. your eyes anxiously flit between the two boys.

“if you’re still mad about that mission, step outside. it’s not like i’m the one savin’ our asses every time.” satoru grits his teeth. 

the loud sound of suguru’s chair screeching on the wooden floor reverberates in the mostly empty room, “you and your uncouth mouth,” he accuses satoru.

shoko flees the scene. smart girl. 

you were about to follow her, but suguru holds out a hand for you to stop,

“i’m just about done anyway. please, don’t cut your meal early on my account,” he looks down at you and your full bento box. the black haired boy leaves no room for discussion when he turns his back to leave the classroom. 

when the shoji doors are slammed shut by suguru, your head whips to satoru who resumes eating his strawberry melonpan. 

“what was that? you’ve been acting strange, satoru– what happened on that mission?”

“don’ worry ‘bout it,” you barely make out the words coming out of his mouth that is full as he munches on the pink bread. 

you scoff, “you can’t just expect me to ignore the argument you just had with suguru. and that ugly bandaid on your face?” you point at the skin-colored bandage haphazardly placed on his face. upon further inspection, you also notice the growing eyebags on his face. it was truly peculiar to see any blemish on satoru’s perfect face.

he pouts, “are you calling me ugly?” satoru doesn't take pleasure in upsetting you, but the gradual way you leaned closer to him sparked an unexpected thrill within him.

“no, i’m worried about you. you’re being weird, satoru.” he was far from ugly.

as your back faces the window, the outside light casts an otherworldly glow around you.

“well, aren’t you an angel?” he tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, completely enamored.

“you never stop, do you? you’ve been completely out of it all day!” your scrutinizing gaze zeroes in on gojo who was mindlessly nodding with a dazed out smile on his face. “and judging by the way you’re all bandaged up, suguru was probably right! i mean you totally got roughed up. the great gojo satoru, wounded.” 

satoru blushes at your angry face. he’d say something indecent, but he fears that it would only scare you away. if only you knew that the reason he was all messed up was because of you.

“it's partially your fault, y'know.” cerulean eyes blink at you sheepishly before being replaced by a newfound mischievous look.

he doesn’t miss the way your anger shifts into confusion.

"excuse me?"

satoru continues, “if it weren't for you appearing in my dream i wouldn't have been distracted by that incomplete domain.” he points to the bandage cut just below his right eye.

“dreaming of me now, gojo?" you raise an eyebrow. the uncomfortable heat that was starting to rise onto your face at the new revelation that gojo dreams about you is ignored.

satoru looks away, "can you really blame a guy?"

you huff, ignoring his comment, “i think yaga has a first aid kit somewhere in the closet.” you make your way to check out the forgotten door in the back of the classroom. 

the cool sterility of medical supplies contrasts with the charged atmosphere left behind in the classroom.

when you do come back with the kit, your heart races, praying he won't notice the hitch in your breath as your fingers delicately tend to the nearly healed scratch beneath his cheek. satoru's ability to evoke strange emotions within you is undeniable.

silence envelops the classroom, broken only by satoru's deep breaths. you're so close that you can almost feel the warm gusts of air from his breath on your face.

"your body healed remarkably fast. i'm not surprised," you softly observe, your focus on the task at hand. satoru smiles, his eyes fixed on your concentrated features.

"yeah? well, i have an excellent nurse," he remarks, tapping the freshly placed bandaid on his cheek. "though it seems she missed one of my injuries."

you furrow your eyebrows. satoru points to his expectant lips, a playful pout on his face.

"no," you plainly state.

"aw, c'mon. kiss it better? i almost died today," he pleads, his eyes silently begging. you shake your head, unaware that it was your fault he nearly lost his head during the mission.

"you really want a kiss?" you repeat, catching on to his persistent request.

he nods fervently, his excitement palpable. was that even a question

you think he was pretty insane– requesting kisses from a fellow peer.

“satoru..” you murmur, leaning closer to him. his eyes were twinkling with excitement. the two of you were all alone, left with nothing but each other. this scene was all too familiar. 

the sides of his lips quirk up into a smirk while he watches your eyes travel all around his face. satoru has been fantasizing about this moment since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“[name],” he says, his voice softer than ever, a privilege reserved for those closest to him—especially you.

just a few more inches and your lips will meet… just a few…

slap!

satoru blinks in shock while you giggle at his confusion. he attempts to ask what just happened, but his mouth is sealed. his hand rises to find a bandaid now on his lips.

“you’re cuter when you shut up.”

 you seal your words with a soft kiss placed on his bandaged mouth.

...

gojo satoru explodes, his voice muffled by an adhesive barrier.

“m.rrry.. m.. mph..mph!”

extra: 

all conflicts were resolved by evening when you had strategically set up a mario kart tournament.

right after you (indirectly) kissed gojo, you fled the scene, leaving a flustered satoru all hot and bothered. you ended up screaming into your pillow.. the same pillow that satoru was laying on not too long ago.

[pochipop]

＃LOVE AND DEEPSPACE !! ♡ — HOW I CRAVE YOU IN THE MORNIN' (RAFAYEL X READER).

#. synopsis! — rafayel doesn't really like mornings, but heaven knows he likes you .

#. characters! — rafayel.

#. warnings! — none .

#. word count! — 1.3k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Rafayel has never been a morning person. He likes to watch the occasional sunrise if he wakes naturally to catch it, but heaven knows he’s loath to pull himself out of bed before he feels good and ready. You, on the other hand, don’t tend to have the luxury of sleeping in until whenever you please. The life of a Deepspace Hunter often requires early starts, and now that you’ve woven your life so tightly between the threads of Rafayel’s, he’s seldom excluded from the harsh ring of your alarm coercing you out of bed, out of your dreams of sweet nothings, and into the real world (which is often much less pretty.)

You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that Rafayel is already pouting at the mere thought of your departure, and your suspicions are confirmed when he snakes his arms around your waist, groaning.

“Baby,” he mutters, “don’t go, the bed gets so cold when you leave.”

You sigh.

“Have to,” you murmur, still half asleep. “Work.”

“Call in sick.”

“I’m not sick,” you answer, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You know my work is important for more reasons than one, Rafayel.”

“I do know,” he sighs, though it’s clear he’s less than happy about agreeing.

In fairness, you’re not particularly happy about this either. You love your job, worked hard to get it and climb the ranks within it, but man, sometimes you wish it were possible to pay the bills with currency earned cuddling in bed with the man nuzzling into your neck like a kitten. 

“Then don’t ask me to call in sick,” you laugh, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his warm temple.

He groans again, though you know he appreciates the affection.

Gently and with great reluctance, you pull yourself from Rafayel’s embrace, though you can’t help but take a moment to marvel at the way early morning rays of light filter through the curtains, playing on his delicate features. His eyes like marbled sunsets lazily find their way to you, still heavy with sleep, peering up at you in a mixture of love and discontent.

“You’re a menace to my sleeping schedule,” he grumbles playfully.

“Consider it payback for all the nights you’ve kept me up too late,” you answer jokingly, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ll have you know, keeping you up at night is a vital part of our relationship,” he pouts, but there’s an unmistakable glint of mischeviousness in his tired gaze.

You giggle, knowing he’s joking (at least in part.)

“I’ll make it up to you,” you move closer, cupping his cheeks in your hands and leaning down to peck his lips. “Promise.”

“You better,” he mutters.

“Don’t I always?” You inquire, fingers feathering through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges in a semi-rare moment of complete sincerity from the man who often goes through the world half-wittingly. “You do.”

You smile, soft and warm, leaning in for another lingering kiss, savoring the warmth and familiarity of Rafayel’s touch. His arms reach up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he’s hesitant to let go.

“Be safe, okay?” He says.

“Always,” you nod.

Before, you might have mistaken his concern for a lack of trust in your abilities, but you’re well past the point of pointless misunderstandings. Rafayel may be an artist, and he might spin his words like golden threads from time to time, making you read between the lines, but your sincerest assessment of the moment tells you he’s said exactly what he means. He wants you to be safe, wants you to come home in one piece, and you let him steal another quick kiss before standing upright.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you add, hoping it might soften the blow of your departure.

His playful pout returns.

“You seem to doubt the depth of my ability to lament over your absence,” he states.

“I don’t doubt it at all, but I’d rather you find more enjoyable ways to spend your day,” you laugh.

He sighs dramatically.

“Bring back something interesting from your adventure,” he suggests, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe something I can crush up, turn into paint.”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you used an oddly sourced item for pigment?” You ask incredilously.

Rafayel rolls his eyes.

“Need I remind you that that’s precisely how we met?” He counters.

“Still,” you sigh, “I’d much prefer you not be endangered by your paint. Stick with oils and acrylics for a while. For my peace of mind.”

“Is that concern I detect from you, my little hunter?” Rafayel grins.

“Of course it is,” you reply honestly. “You might be pretentious and obnoxious, but I love you. I’d never want you in harm’s way.”

His teasing smirk softens to a genuine smile at your sincerity, and he stands, taking a moment to stretch before reaching out to caress the curve of your jaw with the top of his index finger.

“Obnoxious and pretentious, huh?” He chuckles lightly. “Thank you for the glowing evaluation of my character, darling. But, because I do happen to love you as well, I’ll let that little dig slide, —and I’ll do my very best to stick to safe and traditional mediums, at least for the time being, just for you.”

You can’t help but smile at Rafayel’s good-natured reply. His gentle touch lingers on your jaw, and you lean into it, relishing in the softness of his affection.

“Very much so appreciated,” you answer amusedly. “I’ll consider it a personal victory if we can avoid any and all paint-related Wanderer incidents for the forseeable future.”

Rafayel gives a curt nod.

“A noble goal, my dearest hunter,” he says. “Now go forth and fell any pesky Wanderers intent on disturbing the peace of our humble city of high-class electronic developments, bringing back tales of wonder and triumph.”

Heaven knows he has to be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met, but you couldn’t imagine him being any other way.

You play along and give him a mock salute.

“Yes sir, at once.”

Rafayel stifles a laugh, clearly pleased by your participation in his theatrics. He thinks for a moment that this life he lives with you is nothing short of fantastical, —the kind of comfort he only dreamed of just years ago, and now here you are before him, like some kind of angel he’s terrified he might wake up to find was a figment of his deepest desires all along. But his worries are quenched by the way your lips slot so perfectly against his own as he leans in, kissing you sweetly.

“May the cosmic forces be ever in your favor, my love. Return not only with tales of triumph, but also interstellar souvenirs for my viewing pleasure and artistic inspirations if you happen to stumble across any. Preferably ones that will not curse our modest seaside home.”

You laugh, and it makes his heart stutter.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for cosmic trinkets,” you assure.

You’re thrumming by the time Rafayel pulls you in again, pressing you closer to his chest. There’s nothing he has to say to fill the silence, and you let your eyes close for a moment, awash in the silent exchange of understanding so deep it could rival the cosmos. Beyond all the playful banter and the theatrical mannerisms, there’s love here, and that’s really all you could ask for. Worries about your safety, concern over Rafayel’s tendency to attract bad omens, —they dissipate in the face of this connection that buzzes like a live wire.

As you finally pull away, you meet his gaze and find nothing but softness there, replacing all the prior amusement and tiredness from before.

“Return safely, my angel. Our oceanside abode awaits your triumphant arrival,” he takes your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “And so do I.”

[fixing-bad-posts]

[Image description: A long tumblr text-post, edited blackout-poetry style. Resulting text is below.]

---

Okay not to be that person but I'm getting really sick and tired of hearing/seeing people be mean, so stop.

And yes, labels can be fluid and contradict each other sometimes <3

Bi lesbian is a valid sexuality

No hate on my dash.

Edit: Adding on real quick, nb people can be lesbians If you identify as a lesbian.

[bi-panic-at-the-disco]

>:(((

[justsomeunsurefancat]

MAGICAL GIRL TRANSFORMATIONS DON'T HAPPEN IN REAL TIME YOU FREAKING IDIOTS.

I am so sick and tired of people asking "So THe viLlaIns JusT wAIt For THeM tO FiNiSH????" or trying to come up with a super complex answer as to how it works, when there's there's the simple (and very logical) explanation that they're actually super quick. Do you think that when we get super long flashbacks the characters just stand there staring at nothing until the flashback ends??? NO OF COURSE NOT. THAT'S STUPID.

The sequence is there to represents how it feels to transform and look pretty. AND I'M TIRED OF SEEING PEOPLE NOT REALIZE THIS. DID YOU NEVER WATCHED POWER RANGERS AS KIDS???

PD: If you're not aware, Israel has been commiting an active genocide on Gaza/Palestine for around 4 months now, they've killed thousands of innocents including babies under 1 year old. This is not a new thing either, Israel has been terrorizing the Palestinian people for over 7 decades now!! You can find lots of information on how to help just looking it up or going to #palestine here on tumblr

Any help, as small is it is, counts. So please, even if there's just ONE way you can help, do it. Wheter it's donating a little, signing pettitions, marching, boycotting etc.

From the River to Sea, Palestine Will be Free🇵🇸🍉

[rowanswriting]

ROOOOWWWWWWW

REQUESTS ARE OPEN YOU SAY???

Self indulgent because I’m that bitch.

Maybe shy/ditsy reader (cause I love her) who is like so innocent and quiet out in public and in private is the neediest horniest depraved little slut for her man (obvs can be gender neutral) with either Steve or Eddie, or steddie x reader whatever your heart desires.

I HOPE THIS ISNT A SHIT REQUEST ITS TWO AM AND IM TIRED

- hellfiremunsonn (Lillie) 🩷

Freak Like Me - E.M.

thank you so much for the request lovey! I hope this is everything you envisioned! @hellfiremunsonn ily! 🫶🏽

Word count- 1.3K

Warnings - pussy slapping, dirty talk, p in v sex, female masturbation (Eddie helps), Eddie teases you, if I miss something please tell me and I’ll be sure to add it here!

-feel free to reblog & interact it’s much appreciated thank you all for reading! I really hope you enjoy this! 18+ only!

“Where you going sugar?” Eddie’s husky voice says from behind you. One of his ringed hands coming up to grip on your shoulder. You feel your knees go weak, trying your best to remain standing as you look around at all his friends. They’re all watching you as you turn to look at Eddie. “Back to the van… if that’s okay, Sir.” You mumble out. A few of his friends chuckle as you hide your face, flushing from embarrassment. He nods, leaning forward and kissing your cheek softly before handing you the keys. “It’s all yours baby be there soon.” You listened as Eddie continued talking about some dnd campaign, the sound of his voice drowning out behind you.

He’d made a spectacle of you all night long, teasing you in front of everyone. He knew exactly what it did to you, you’d almost not agreed to come out tonight because you knew this would happen. Eddie loves teasing you, and his friends love it even more, watching you babble when he asks you a question because only a minute before he had said something incredibly dirty. The wide smirk on his face causes you to stutter as you squeeze your legs together, praying that no one will be able to see. They do. This time you decide not to stick around to hear the remarks they’d make.

You slowly open the door to his van, hopping up inside and slamming yourself back onto his seat. The uncomfortableness of your panties sticking to you is too much to handle, so you lift your hips, sliding them down your legs before throwing them in the back seat. All you can think of when you slip your fingers down to flip up your skirt is Eddie’s voice, the way he mocks you, laughs at you, the sweet nothings he’ll whisper to you once he has you all to himself. “Fuck.” You whimper out, your fingers lightly grazing against your clit.

You shuffle around a bit angling yourself so when Eddie opens the door he’ll have a perfect view of what belongs to him. To his friends, you’re shy and reserved, innocent even. Eddie knew the real truth about you and you were none of those things. Your eyes close as you get lost in the moment, you bite your lip hard enough that you’re sure it’ll bleed as you circle your fingers around your clit, the sensations running throughout your body as you moan quietly. “Please Eddie.” You cry out, sliding down against the passenger door.

“Well ain’t this a pretty picture.” Your eyes snap back open as a sick smile breaks out across your face. “Knew you wouldn’t keep me waiting long.” You say, giggling as Eddie climbs up into the drivers seat. He’s quick with the door, slamming it before turning to look back at you. Your fingers are still working over yourself, only going faster now that he’s watching. You go to stop but he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down. “Oh please honey, don’t stop because of me. Let me see how desperate you are.”

You nod, your eyes half open from the pleasure as Eddie pushes two of your own fingers inside yourself. You groan at the feeling, it’s messy but you couldn’t love it more. The sounds of wet squelching and your moans fill up the van as Eddie’s eyes burn with lust. They’re latched onto where the both of you are moving together. “This is so good, but I really need you Ed’s please.” You beg. He shakes his head, holding your hand down, rocking your fingers in and out slowly. “I didn’t say you could stop babydoll.” He whispers as you buck your hips up, grabbing at his wrist with the hand that isn’t buried deep inside you.

Eddie leans back, sitting on his knees as he watches you. He pulls his hand away slowly and makes you do all the work as he palms himself lazily over his pants. “I wish they could see you now baby, absolutely pathetic and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet.” He says, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head as a loud moan rips its way from your throat. “Fuck. Please.” You whine, your heartbeat speeding up as the tight cord winding itself in your stomach threatens to break. A bead of sweat makes its way down the side of your face as you buck your hips up again, meeting the thrusts of your own fingers.

You sit up a little, your body trembling as you watch Eddie slowly unbuckle his belt. You trail your eyes up to his face where he’s biting his lip, his eyes staring into yours as you continue to pleasure yourself. He laughs a little when he sees tears on the corners of your eyes. “Aww darlin’ you’re so ready aren’t you? Go ahead, let me see you cum, give me a show baby.” It takes you no more than a small thrust of your fingers before you’re letting go. Your wetness spreads all over yourself and down onto Eddie’s seat as he watches. You can hear him talking you through it but the blood rushing behind your ears keeps you from hearing what he’s actually saying.

He gives you no time to recover, you hear something rush past you into the back of the van before Eddie’s on you like a wild animal. He slowly strokes himself a few times, rubbing the head of his cock right against your clit as you squirm underneath him crying and begging for him to fuck you already. He stops teasing only to reach down and slap your pussy, once, twice, three times. You yelp and just as you go to sit up to scold him he thrusts into you, practically knocking the wind out of your lungs. “Y’gonna scream for me sugar? Let all my friends hear how much of a slut you really are for me?”

“F-uckkk Eddie please!” You scream out, the slapping of Eddie’s skin against yours growing louder as he thrusts harder than before. He reaches under your ass to pull you up some, angling you just right so with every thrust his cock rubs up against your g-spot. “That’s it sugar, it’s okay I got you, let go. Cum on this dick and let everyone hear who makes you feel this good.” Your body trembles beneath him, your stomach flips at his dirty words as you look down and watch him sliding in and out of you. The drag of his cock, enough to make you feel like you’re on another planet entirely as you finally give up. Your eyes roll back as your mouth babbles on, Eddie grips onto your hips, his blunt nails digging into your skin as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. His deep moans blend with yours creating a delicious melody as he fills you up.

You hear him laugh as you both come down from your high, he slowly pulls out of you leaving you empty and sore as you open your eyes to look up at him. “What’s so funny?” You say, your voice rough from how loud you were being, he smiles at you before leaning down to kiss your forehead, moving some of the hair that’s stuck to it away. “Oh, s’nothin. Just thinking how funny it is that you’re a freak, and they have no idea.” You bite your lip before giggling, slapping his arm slightly as you sit up to fix your clothes. You don’t bother with finding your panties as you watch Eddie reach into the back of the van, grabbing his pants. “Well, next time maybe we’ll have to give them a real show, Eddie.” You whisper, running your tongue up the side of his ear, his cock throbs at your words, a low moan slipping from his lips.

tag list- @voyeurmunson @vecslut @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @josephquinnsfreckles

[cowboyspence]

Baby Reid? Baby Reid!

Summary: Spencer finds out that you're pregnant

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Word count: 342 (I at least think so)

Disclaimer: This the the first fan fiction I ever wrote + english is not my native language + I have no idea how tumblr works to be honest lol

.

.

.

You and Spencer have been married for 2 months now after dating for more than 4 years. Your marriage couldn't possibly be any better. You barely ever argued but lately something has changed.

You've been acting different. Spencer noticed. The team noticed. Everyone noticed.

You were constantly mad at Spencer for no reason at all. You barely ate. And you were tired all the time. Is she sick? Spencer asks himself. Maybe it was his fault, he thought. That he did something wrong and now you're upset. But despite of his eidetic memory, he couldn't remember anything he could've done to upset you. So he decided to just look up your symptoms to find out what you might have.

He typed your symptoms into his computer at work.The results shocked him...Pregnancy symptoms was the first thing that came up.

Could that be possible? Could that explain why you've been acting this way? When did this happen? he questioned himself. What a dumb question...Your wedding night 2 months ago. A night full of passion and love and most importantly right now....without any contraception.

After minutes of just staring at his computer screen, he decided to just ask you. If it just was this easy Spencer thought.But he knew that it's the best and only thing he could do in this situation. He walked over to your desk, that is not far away from his own.

"Y/N, can we talk real quick?" your husband asked. "Sure, what's up, love?" you replied.Spencer blushed at the nickname, even though you've been calling him love ever since you two started dating. This was probably the nicest you've been to him in days. "I'm just gonna ask you, because I know that you hate when I don't get to the point and umm..." "Spence, breath" you answered, as an attempt to calm him down. "Are you pregnant?", he suddenly blurted out. "Umm..." you couldn't even form proper words. That was everything he needed to answer his question:

You were in fact pregnant.

[ddejavvu]

Hi!!!

Imagine hotch x reader where the reader is pregnant and hotch isn’t there when she goes into labor but Derek is (she left her wallet at the bau or something while visiting Hotch and Derek came over to drop it off to her… or something like that)

I’m imagining the interaction between Derek and Hotch once he finally gets to the hospital 😭😭

You've watched Derek walk into active shootings, and run an unsub off the road by crashing his car into theirs, but you've never seen him quite as scared as he is now that your water has broken.

"Oh shit," His eyes widen and he presses his back flat to the wall of the kitchenette, eyeing the stain on your work pants, "Uh, that's- we have to go now, don't we?"

"Now," You plead, panic seizing you as well, no matter how much you try repressing it. You know a stressful labor won't be good for your daughter, but there's no way it's going to go smoothly now that Aaron isn't here.

"Okay. Okay, I gotcha," Derek promises, with more confidence than you're sure he truly possesses. He reaches out to help you from your chair, supporting most of your weight with a hand around your shoulders and the other cupped under your belly. Walking is more of an awkward shuffle than his typical long strides, but he helps you over to Hotch's office where your husband's hospital bag is kept. Derek slings the diaper bag over his shoulder and tries getting you back on your feet after you've reclined against the armrest of Aaron's couch, but you struggle to move properly.

"Okay, uh- okay. I'm gonna carry you, alright?" Derek looks into your eyes for permission, but you'd be doomed if you denied, "Okay, c'mere, just- yeah, wrap your arms around my neck, Y/N. That's it," You do as you're told, and Derek scoops you up bridal style. You're constantly impressed by his muscles, but now more than ever.

"Okay, mama. Let's get you to the car, then we'll go to the hospital. We'll turn the sirens on," Derek promises, moving as fast as he can with you in his arms and the bag balanced on his shoulders, "Cut through traffic."

"Thank you, Derek," You groan, face pressed into his shoulder as your first wave of contractions begins flowing over you. It's an aching you've never felt before, and you try not to sob knowing that they'll only get worse with time.

"No need, no need." He assures you, and he's surprisingly fast to get you into the car. True to his word, he turns the sirens on, but your groans and moans of pain might be louder than the piercing wails that clear the road for you.

"Okay," Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you hear the squeal of tires against the road as Derek pulls into the parking lot, "Okay, we're gonna get you in there, okay? Then I'll call Hotch, you just do your thing."

An attendant is already rushing out to meet you and you squeeze Derek's arm one final time, a pained smile on your face as he watches the nurses help you into a wheelchair.

"Thank you," You repeat, "Derek, thank you. I love you."

"Love you too," He grins, relaxed now that he knows you're finally in proper hands, "Now go have us another BAU baby!"

--

Aaron storms into the waiting room a mere twenty minutes after Derek calls him, and he was supposed to be conducting a prison interview, so Derek doesn't want to think about how he'd managed to get here that fast.

"My wife," Hotch demands, as if Derek thinks he might be here to read to sick children, "Where's Y/N?"

"Delivery room 4," Derek stands to show him the window attached to your room, blinds drawn and painful groans coming from within, "Hurry, man, they said it's going real fast."

"Thank you." Aaron stops to grab Derek's forearms, squeezing them and nodding once, "Thank you, Morgan."

"Get in there," Derek grins, the last bit of stress that had been squeezing at his chest alleviated now that Aaron is here to witness the birth of his daughter, "Go on, Hotch."

Aaron doesn't need more coaxing than that.

He's allowed a quick entry when he introduces himself to the nurse, and you're already being fed ice chips that last mere seconds between your clenched teeth.

"Honey," Aaron rushes forward, and you reach out for his desperately. Your grip is nearly bruising on his hand but he couldn't care less, and leans in to kiss your sweat-lined forehead.

"What can I do?" He asks, standing even after the nurse offers him a chair. You nod to it, and that's his cue to sit.

"Nothing." You nearly sob, overtaken by pain Aaron wishes he could fix for you, "Just- just promise me- aah!"

"You're okay," Aaron jumps into action, squeezing your hand so that you squeeze his even harder, pressing his free hand against your teeth through your cheeks so that you don't crack a tooth by clenching your jaw so tight. You let him force your mouth open but it only makes your cries of pain louder, and when they subside you open your eyes to find him staring worriedly down at you.

"I want the baby to have Morgan as a middle name," You finish your thought, "I- I know we decided on Mia for her first, but- but-"

"Mia Morgan Hotchner," Aaron nods, smiling at the way the name rolls off of his tongue, "I think that's perfect, honey."

[boneblushed]

Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

[milksnake-tea]

━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.” 

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time. 

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 1

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: A lot of back story explaining the 2021 season so far!

Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF

"So when we talk about the Norris twins, obviously due to Y/N being female it has pushed her career back further than her brothers, where she is debuting into McLaren alongside her brother we will be able to see a real test of talent"

"Yes i think it will be really interesting to see them both in the same team competing against one another while still driving for that same team. They have very similar driving styles and I can imagine them helping one another out when it comes to pole positions and keeping both of them within the top ten for points" Jenso replies to Nico.

This was from an interview at the start of the 2021 season, just before your first race in Bahrain. When Zac Brown reached out to you, you were more than happy to take up the offer. Being able to not only race alongside your brother once again but by being his team mate as well had you so excited for the season.

Bahrain went really well, Lando being in his 3rd year of Formula 1 and within the same team now felt comfortable in his car, and it had the pace this year and he came P4, you had some difficulties where you weren't fully used to the difference in the F1 car, compared too your old F2 but still managed to wrangle 6 points for the team in P7.

Imola came after a larger break where you and Lando got to travel home for a few weeks before and check on everything in the MTC before travelling to Italy. Lando got a podium in P3 and like the interview had said, he kept enough of a time gap to help you defend of the two Ferrari's behind you. You came P4. To say that Charles wasn't happy with this, as you knocked him down a place was an understatement.

Portugal was the week after and you travelled straight there, sightseeing with your brother, Daniel, Carlos and Charles. You would often leave them in bars and clubs and find yourself in cafe's and museums. Portugal wasn't as good as a race as you could have hoped, but even with car issues you still managed to get points in P9, while your brother came P5.

After this race, where you went straight to Spain, you started to get home sick. Only having your brother by your side as your parents and other siblings couldn't come out for the last few races due to their own busy schedules. Spain was an incredible race for you making you feel better for the next week ahead. You came P4 managing to overtake Charles on the last lap, which again heavily annoyed him, and very nearly catching up to the Mercedes in P3 while you left your brother in the dust in P8.

There was another break after this race, you and Lando both went home you saw Max and his girlfriend who you'd missed dearly and your family, then Charles had invited you and Lando to come spend some time on his yacht in Monaco with his younger brother who you knew of from the F2 garage when he'd been invited to come watch.

You had been nervous for the race in Monaco, it was a difficult track and so far, you hadn't been in a position where you hadnt gained the team points. However Monaco was clearly not your race, from the mixture of your nerves and car issues you came P12, while you brother stood on the podium, in P3.

The next week in Azerbaijan went so much better, with Max, and both Mercedes not having pace, you'd managed some effortless overtakes and insanely quick pit stops. You'd had a second pit stop and was on fresher tires that your brother so you were behind him, you were flying and going much quicker than him but your engineer didn't want you to go for the overtake.

You did anyway against their advice, pushing until you were behind Charles Leclerc's Ferrari, you went for a cheap move that you knew was safe but would have him fuming in interviews afterwards until you were up alongside Pierre Gasly, you were P4 and he was P3, driving alongside him you couldn't tell who went over the checked flag until you heard from your radio engineer that this was your first podium win.

You cried... of course you did. But this was the start of a rocky patch for you and Lando, he was fuming at you the minute you got out of your car. You were asked not to go for the overtake but you did anyway. He was yelling in your face angrily, taking away the beaming smile.

Lando hadn't realized you'd got your first podium, he was just angry that you'd bumped him down a place. You looked upset on your podium, a sad smile as you raised you trophy, stood up there with Sergio and Sebastian. They'd both given you a hug trying to cheer you up having seen on the TV what happened with you and Lando.

"Well done on your win Y/N" a voice startled you as you turned to your side seeing Max Verstappen stood there congratulating you.

"Thank you. I'm sorry about the DNF, France will be better next weekend for you I'm sure" you smile, a light blush held on his face.

"I'm also sorry about how your brother reacted. I've been in this sport for 6 years now and as a word of advise sometimes you have to go against what your team ask of you, you gained more points for the team today than you would have if you did stay put behind your brother. So take it as not only as a win for you but a win for McLaren as well" he smiles before pulling you into a comforting hug. His words had really hit you, nobody had said that to you today, but then again Seb and Checo probably didn't here the opposing radios yet as they'd been on the podium with you.

"Thank you, i really needed to here that Max" you smile genuinely.

"Hey, that overtake was so risky!" a voice shouts over, and thundering footsteps stand behind you.

"Huh?" you'd asked looking over your shoulder, Max's gaze following yours.

"Charles, leave her alone!" Max says with pointed eyes at the Ferrari golden boy coming close to you.

"No, she needs to stop doing overtakes like that at the last minute. They are dangerous and have no thought behind them, you even put your own brother at risk today because she can't listen to her own team" he yells his exaggerated hand gestures going everywhere.

"Her overtakes today was phenomenal. She just got her first podium, her brother has already spoiled that don't make it worse by being a prick" Max says, but Charles is fuming and too far gone that the stuff coming out his mouth is there from pure anger.

"She shouldn't have even had that win today! It's not fair, she shouldn't even have that seat!" he exclaims, Max gasps and you look down.

"Charles!" he exclaims, but before you can hear anything else you are out the door running towards the McLaren motorhome. You packed up your stuff saying quick apologies to the engineers who would take anything you left behind. You didn't have a car here so you walked from the track to the hotel, a few people spotted you but thankfully didn't interrupt seeing the tears streaking down your face. They must have seen both Charles and Lando yelling at you today.

You booked a flight to London for that night, you had your bags packed and sent to the airport before you had Seb offer to drive you to the airport.

"Thank you Seb, I really appreciate it" you smile, looking down at your phone. It rung with Lando's icon popping up. You pressed decline and put your phone on do not disturb.

"It's okay. I saw the videos of Lando and Charles with you surfacing. I'm sorry" he admits, rubbing your shoulder, as you turned to look away from him so he couldn't see the tears coming down your face.

In no time you were at the airport, you'd thanked Seb who promised he'd see you in France and asked you to let him know when you were safe and home.

You sat in the airport alone, your covid mask on, but you knew people still recognized you as you went through security and waited for the plane where they would take pictures of you. Some even came up asking for pictures or signing their merch, but where it was so late there wasn't too many that it alarmed you or security.

When you landed in the UK, your dad was right there pulling you into a hug, cussing his son out saying how he should have been there to celebrate the win. You cried to him, telling him about how shit you felt after what Lando and Charles had said.

"Lets go home" he says rubbing your shoulders.

As you both walk into the house, you can overhear you mum and younger sister on the phone to someone.

"No mum, I just want to know if she's home safe" you hear your twin's voice across the phone.

"Look hunny, your dad's gone to the airport but I don't know if he's got her yet. She's upset though Lando" you hear your mum reply.

"I know, and I know its my fault, i didn't realize she got the team more points because she overtook Charles and Pierre. I didn't get to apologize because she left right after the race"

"Because you were?" his mother pushes and he groans.

"Mum"

"No Lando where were you"

"At the club"

"Yes you were at the club, celebrating while your sister was packing her bags in her hotel room crying her eyes out because she gets her first win in F1, and her brother cant even congratulate her and watch her podium with the rest of their team? She'll see you in France but for now she needs some time alone" you mother rants at him.

"Arghhh that boy Flo, can you believe him. When i next see him, i swear to god!" she exclaims and you and your dad finally make yourself known.

"Hey guys!" you try to smile, but it doesn't reach across your face like they are used to. Flo immediately runs up to you pulling you into a hug. You started to cry into her again, before Cisca, your mother and father all join in the hug.

"Come, we'll order your fave tonight as a treat okay?" your mum guides as she sits you down at the table.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover

[literaila]

"i don''t wanna get you sick"

from either reader or peter (sorry if you've already written a fic like this)

where’d you get your medical degree

tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings: the ask says it all.

a/n: in lieu of sick season. and because of many illnesses (such as writers block, and insanity) which are preventing me from writing anything serious

*

“no,” you whine, pushing him away. “don’t touch me.”

peter is looking down at you with an incredulous look on his face. his hair is loose and his eyes are close, and he’s unbelievably pretty. like you have to blink a few times, just to make him appear normal—and a little less blurry.

you think he’s smiling too, but you can’t really see it. you might be dreaming.

“is there any particular reason why not, bub?”

his hands near you again, cold fingertips on your jaw, around your head. you groan and move your face away from them—even though it feels wonderful.

“i don’t know where those hands have been.”

peter snorts. “trust me,” he says, tilting your head back to him, “you do.”

your stomach turns, and suddenly his hands are a saving grace, so you grab both, holding them to your cheeks.

“change your mind?”

“cold,” you sigh, leaning as close as you can get to him.

“you’re burning, love, and not the elvis kind.”

you shake your head, eyes closed. “not funny,” you mutter.

“can you look at me real quick?”

you moan and close your eyes even tighter. “i’m tired, peter. come back when we’re open.”

“just let me see those pretty eyes and then you can sleep. i’ll even get you some comfier clothes. and some water.”

you move your legs around, feeling the stiff polymer pants you wore today, assuming that you wouldn’t be halfway to death by 3pm.

“how bout some ice cream?” you ask, opening one eye.

it is not lost on you that peter is trying to flirt with you. or that he’s frowning.

“your pupils are big,” he says, concisely. “did you get drugged?”

you giggle, moving away from him, his fingertips suddenly ticklish. “yes, from my computer,” you grin at him, closing your eyes again. “at my office job.”

“okay, stoner, what medicine did you take?”

you frown. “none.”

peter is frowning back. you can feel it. but you’re not going to open your eyes, just in case he’s suddenly brushed his hair or something. put on mascara. who knows what lengths peter would go to surprise you.

“wait,” you hold a finger up. “whatever’s in my bag, i think. i took it at work.”

peter sighs, patting your leg before he moves about the room, looking for a purse you must have lost.

you actually can’t really remember how you got home in the first place.

“if your fever gets any worse, we’re going to the doctor.” peter says this from across the room, and you’re pretty sure he’s not even talking to you. “here. this is just acetaminophen. how long ago?”

your face is pushed into the pillow beside you. it smells like peter, so you keep it there.

“loopy, can you just answer this one question?”

“the pillow is speaking to me.”

peter puts a hand on your back. “i am so sure you’re on drugs,” he says, almost adoringly. “the pillow is telling you that you need to clean up. trust me, we’re close. let’s get you into pajamas and then i’ll find you some stuff.”

you don’t move. maybe you didn’t hear him.

“bub,” he says, a bit louder, sterner. “c’mon, it’ll only take a sec.”

“not moving.” your voice is muffled. “ever.”

“how am i supposed to kiss you, then?”

you turn and peek out at him, lip curling at the mention. and then you cough. “you cant kiss me. i’m sick.”

“it’s disappointing that you think that would deter me.”

“if you’re sick how are you supposed to take care of me?”

“i’ll always take care of my baby,” he swears, leaning into you. if you were of right mind you might realize he wants a kiss. you might realize what you want.

but you only nod approvingly, and then smush your face back into his pillow.

peter groans. his hand moves to the back of your head, and he massages your scalp for a moment. “i know those clothes aren’t comfortable,” he pulls at your tight blouse, the one you wear when you want to feel good about yourself and you don’t mind neglecting to breathe. “even though it looks good on you. you’re sweating through it.”

your muffled voice returns: “do i smell?”

it’s a miracle that peter can understand anything you’re saying. “just like you,” he sniffs, “and maybe a bit like coffee? did you spill something on yourself?”

you don’t move. just hum into the pillow, hacking up a lung into it.

peter shakes his head. “i’m gonna need to wash that. up, baby. a shower would help your sinuses, but we’ll change if you’re tired.”

“baby,” you giggle to yourself.

“yes, baby, because you have de-aged significantly in the past hour. do i have to carry you to the closet?” his voice is teasing, but you’re not really sure that you can hear anything.

you finally turn, sitting up so you can look at peter. “am i being difficult?” you ask him, worriedly. your skin has shifted colors, and your voice is more like rock on rock. but you still frown at peter. “i’m sorry. you don’t have to do anything. i can change.”

but as you say it you double over in a coughing fit, and while you can feel peters hand on your back, you’re almost worried he’s already left.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers when you’re silent again, swallowing. “i like taking care of you. though, i’m not loving that cough. do you need some water?”

you look at him, checking his eyes for something that you’d never be able to recognize in this state. and finally you nod, silent.

peter kisses your forehead and leaves for the kitchen.

you sit there, trying to keep your back perfectly straight. even through the overwhelming urge to lay back down in the bed and suffocate in the blankets.

you really just want to smell that pillow some more.

your head is pounding, and you try to remember if you even took that medicine in the first place. how long you’ve been sitting there. if peter even took your temperature in the first place.

but peter is back before you figure it out. “here,” he hands you a glass of water, watching you with narrowed eyes. “drink all of it.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

he glares at you and you smile, sipping on the water.

he smiles back, sitting down next to you and feeling all over your face with his hands. “what’s the status report?”

“still sick, but my mental capacity is coming back.”

“oh good,” peter says, leaning back but not letting go of you. “i was worried when you didn’t laugh at my elvis joke.”

you snort and lean right back into him, your head against his chest. he smells a lot better than cheap cotton.

“sorry ‘bout your pillow,” you cough out, leaning away from him suddenly so you don’t spit in his face.

“it’s fine. i enjoy a little snot with my sleep.”

“gross, peter.”

he grins down at you, kissing the top of your head again, because he is beyond adorable. then he sombers, still staring, carefully evaluating you. “do you want some more medicine? i think we’ve got some cold stuff in the cupboard.”

“the sleepy kind?”

“probably. take some of that. do you want to shower?”

“not really,” you say, letting him hold your head up. “i’m a little dizzy.”

peter frowns at you. “i’d make sure you don’t fall,” he offers.

“that’s okay,” and then you, once again, hack up some mucus in front of his face and sigh pathetically into your own hands.

“how about some tea? for your throat?” his hand moves yours away, brushing the hair out of your face.

“peter, it’s okay.”

you kiss his hand and push it away.

“the teas okay?” he frowns. “as in yes?”

“i’m okay,” you repeat, shaking your head at him. “you don’t have to do anything else. i’m fine.”

“you’re sick,” he corrects.

“i’m a big girl. i just need a nap. i’m probably not even sick.”

you emphasizes this point by choking down a cough, making your eyes water.

peter raises a brow.

you smile, tightly. “i’m just gonna go change now—“ you stand up, and then fall back down. your head spins as you feel peters hands wrap around your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your temple.

“just let me help,” he whispers, into you. “i’m not busy.”

“you had a long day.”

“i just want to cuddle with you anyway. i can take a few extra steps—like making you tea and getting you medicine.”

you shake your head. “i can do it.”

“i miss high you,” peter sighs. “c’mon, bub, stop being stubborn.”

you frown. “you’re the stubborn one. go swing and save someone else,” you tell him. “i just need a nap.”

“then i’m napping with you.”

you tilt your head back, groaning, and regretting it immediately when there’s a sharp stab in the front of your eyes.

peter kisses your now exposed neck, moving his hand so it keeps your head still. “you probably need to go to the doctor.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

peter scoffs. “you’ve got a fever of 103 degrees. i’m not dramatic.”

“i think i missed the era where you got your medical degree.”

peter scowls at you, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and making sure you can see his conviction to never ever let this go. “it’s called webmd. it’s a wonderful place.”

“peter,” you whine, trying to push him away.

“baby,” he whines back, but smiles as he picks you up, like a literal baby, making sure not to jostle your head. “pajamas. what do you want to wear? and what’s the verdict on the tea?”

you sigh and lean your head into his neck. you don’t appreciate this, but it’s hurting to keep your eyes open. you cough into him, muffling yourself from the world. “can i wear your shirt?” you say, softly.

peter smiles like he’s won the lottery. you can feel it against your head. “yup,” he pops, “but it’ll cost you.”

“what?” you ask, sniffling.

“a kiss.”

he pecks your cheek, then your nose, and carries you away.

*

[midnightcinderella]

People who would suffer at NRC

Each dorm has at least one of these students and god help them. This is very self-indulgent and each trait applies to me. If you relate, then rip to the both of us.

No proof-reading, we rawdog this shit. Word count: ~1300 Notes: no gendered pronouns for reader. mentions of ADHD, depression, and anxiety. mentions of illness. no romantic relationships

Heartslabyul

People with ADHD. Rip to us fr.

You'd forget at least a handful of rules a day, but it's really not your fault. Riddle better get off your case istg.

The ones who are more devoted to remaining productive make big colorful signs all over the damn place.

In their own rooms would be stuff like a box that says "keys and wallet go here" or a sign by the door with a checklist of what they need before they go, like homework or textbooks.

There are signs in common areas, too. They'll say stuff like curfew times or reminders of jobs that need to be done around the dorm.

There's always backlash if Riddle tries to take them down for being an eyesore because not only do they help ADHD students remember what needs to be done but students without ADHD, too. No sane person is gonna be thinking about feeding flamingos 24/7.

Savanaclaw

People with asthma. Place is dusty as shit. And hot. And humid at times.

I'm surprised the beastman students haven't taken any measure to seal off the inside of the dorm to prevent and from getting in. Guess everyone doesn't mind inhaling dust straight into their lungs.

Not to mention regular exercise is a dorm-wide tradition. Shoutout to my fellow mile walkers <3

If you have asthma and a dander/dust allergy, I'd just drop out tbh.

People who easily overheat/sweat. Double rip to us.

Get ready to go back and forth with your dormmates about smelling bad after sweating. It's a common occurrence. Someone sasses you, you sass back, and you're friends again 3 minutes later.

Everyone will think you're dying when you're dripping sweat after some stretches outside. No, you're not tired, you're just hot.

Octavinelle

People who are bad at math/bad with money. Listen.

The dorm isn't full of people who are as business minded as Azul, but there are students that offer accounting help for a fee. Negotiate that fee for the love of god.

Thankfully, you won't be scammed out of house and home because:

(1) it's generally frowned upon to scam people within Octavinelle; you don't hurt one of your own. It's about loyalty.

(2) someone is likely to take pity on you and will throw you a bone, telling you about a huge sale or where to find good job opportunities.

People who are gullible. Once again, double rip.

And once again, thank the lucky stars that loyalty is such a big thing here so you might be tricked into doing someone's job for them like mopping the Lounge, but nothing that would hurt you too badly.

If a study partner tries to feed you false information for shiggles, that'll get shut down real quick by another student. If your grades go down, then the whole dorm goes with you.

Good thing that doesn't happen often, and Azul offers his study guides for a highly discounted price to his own.

Scarabia

People who don't do well with sudden changes in temperature. Man, listen.

Hellishly hot during the day and even more hellishly cold at night. Dante would be thrilled.

God forbid you have any athletic activities close to sunset because you'll have to shower off that sweat quick before you freeze to death.

If anyone has a problem with the sound of the hairdryer after sundown, they're just gonna have to deal with it or risk catching your inevitable cold.

Speaking of, if sudden changes in temperature make you sick, double rip. I know your pain.

Kalim may not be able to come see you in person, but if he finds out you're sick, he'll send meds and some warm food. If that food was made by Jamil, then you owe him one.

You don't wanna owe him one.

If you need to leave your room after sundown, you're going to do it wrapped up with a blanket over your head. If someone mistakes you for a ghoul, that's their own problem.

Pomefiore

People with depression. Listen. Someone without depression could find it hard to keep such a strict regimen day in and day out; do not expect too much out of us.

If you think that means you're getting out of it, though, you'd be wrong.

Group accountability is a thing here. If you need help sticking to your routine, you're getting it. You can't refuse.

You're all going to be beautiful together, goddammit.

If that chronic fatigue be hittin ya, you might get a pass for a few steps of your routine. But if a particularly caring dormmate decides you have to do the full routine and straight up does it for you, lol.

Depending on how you view that sort of help, it might be really nice. Or maybe a little humiliating.

The dorm kitchen is only going to have healthy ready-made snacks. So if it's a day where you can't cook or go all the way to the cafeteria, that is what you're working with. Either that or you crawl your way over the the Shop for a candy bar.

Ignihyde

People who struggle with technology. Yes there are young people who aren't great with technology. We exist. Mind your business.

No matter how many classes you take teaching you how to use MagExcel, it never sticks for long. Even if you pass the exams, all your knowledge leaves to go buy milk by the time the week is over.

You're gonna need to interrupt people's gaming sessions to ask for help. It may annoy them, but you're doing it anyway because you refuse the reinvent the wheel 12 times.

People who prefer paper over screens. Call me old fashioned but staring at screens all day Hurts My Eyes.

You'd get physical copies of your textbooks if you could, but those free pdfs your classmates pass around are too tempting to pass up. They're free, for god's sake.

You also might be limited to board games on game nights. They're not bad, but there's not a whole lot you can do with them. You're a wiz at Cards Against Reality tho.

Every so often Ignihyde has a dorm-wide game night where everyone sits around in the common room with their headphones in, playing their own games. Together.

Though the board game players are in the next room. Oddly enough, they're the rowdiest of the bunch, and it sounds like they have the most fun by the way they're yelling and cheering.

You have seen some nerd fights start over a game of Ichi.

Diasomnia

People who have anxiety. One, Lilia is a menace. Two, your housewarden is the Malleus Draconia. Meep.

Whether it's Lilia or Malleus you run into, it feels like your heart will explode at any time.

Not to mention it's so dark in and outside of the building for no good reason. What's a fella gotta do to get some fucking sunlight in here? You're sick of worrying about what could be behind every corner.

You once wondered if Malleus needed a UV/heat lamp, but knew better than to ask. That doesn't mean you're not curious, though.

People who dislike loud sounds. I don't think I have to explain this one.

At first you thought that staying near Silver meant that you'd be staying away from Sebek, but that wasn't the case and you were at a loss as to what to do.

Then you tried going in the other direction whenever you saw Malleus, but all that did was send Sebek after you personally, asking very loudly why you did not want to be around Lord Malleus.

At one point, you got sick of his shit and muzzled him via magic. Then Malleus showed up and you were all oh shit. But then all he did was chuckle about how you were getting along so well. You took that to mean he wouldn't ever stop you from muzzling Sebek.

You were right.

[starvity]

heyy! you can totally ignore this is ur not comfy but i’m sick (and delusional) rn so how would zb1 react to reader having a nose bleed when they’re hiding their sickness 🫶

anyways i love all your work so farrr <33

— ☆ zb1 reacting to you getting a nose bleed

gn!reader x zb1 (ot9)

genre: slight angst, fluff // warnings: BLOOD obviously, arguments/yelling, tears uhuh. reader is sick and tired...

author’s note: get well soon anon :(( i am once again writing angst today what is happening!!! thank you for requesting though hehe and let me call jebewon real quick and tell them to take care of you!!! (★ω★)/ [requested♡]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ jiwoong

he would totally panic but only internally. in reality, he will try to act composed to take care of you and your nose bleed. will get you some tissues and a warm towel to wipe the blood stains off your nose. once he made sure the nose bleed had stopped, his panic mode will comeback and he's going to ask you thousands of questions!! if you tell him that it's not the first time that it has happened this week he will obviously lecture you and force you to cuddle with him until you get better. "didn't i tell you to stay in bed?" jiwoong asks. "i'm just going to open the door, calm down." you chuckle, trying to get behind your boyfriend who was standing in front of the door, blocking it. a sudden smile breaks the serious look on his face. he lifts you up and throws you on the bed. "i'll be your legs for this week so stay here, will you?"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ hao

very confused when you were casually talking on the couch and he notices the blood dripping from your nose. probably like :O for a few seconds before you kindly ask him to get you some tissues. trips and bumps into furniture a few times on his way to the bathroom because he's confused and panicked. however, when you tell him you've been kinda sick but you were hiding it from him, prepare yourself to get yelled at lmao. of course, not to the point to make you cry but i see him just screaming some incoherent sentences (definitely curses in chinese under his breath lol) about how you need to take your health seriously. in the end, he will softly kiss you and make a promise to never hide anything from the other again :]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ hanbin

leader mode activated!!!! as soon as he noticed your nose was bleeding, he tells you not to panic as he gets a tissue from his bag. he softly places it on your face and explains to you what's happening. you might think he's the calmest one but his eyes can't lie!! he's looking at you with such a concerned face when you tell him your health hasn't been the best lately. you chuckle, letting him know that he doesn't need to worry. he sighs and takes your hands in his, asking you to please tell him when you're sick so he can help you with chores, work, etc. throughout the week, when you get up to cook, clean or even go out instead of resting, he will call your name sternly and point to the bed with a small nod, indicating you to go lie down before he does it himself.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ matthew

super confused n°2. when he notices you rushing to the bathroom from your desk, he doesn't really question it. but when he goes to wash his hands and sees the blood-stained tissues in the trashcan, he knew something wasn't right. matthew comes up from behind you, who was super focused writing on your laptop, and wraps his arms around your torso. he starts pressing some kisses along your jawline, suggesting you to take a break. when you don't seem to move at his words, he turns your chair around and cups your cheeks with his hands. upon seeing the tired look on your face, he asks if you've been sick lately. when you tell him you were but didn't want to tell him, he takes you in his arms and carries you to the bed. you end up talking a bit (mainly matthew ranting about how much he loves you and how you should take care of yourself) before falling asleep.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ taerae

takes it extremely seriously. your nose starts bleeding again and you sigh, grabbing another tissue. the box was almost empty with the amount of times it had happened this week. you reassure taerae that you were used to it as his eyes widen. he cannot believe you've been hiding the fact that you were sick from him and worse, that you lied; saying you were fine whenever he asked you how you were doing. i wouldn't even be surprised if a small argument occured because i feel like taerae would base his relationships on trust and you hiding something from him will definitely hurt him a little. probably gives you the silent treatment for 3 hours (cause he's just dramatic like that) before coming back to your shared room to check up on you. when he discovers that you still haven't taken a break he throws a blanket on your face and drags you to the bed (on the floor, if he has to). wouldn't talk for a good 20 minutes before sighing and telling you to never hide anything from him again. he also apologizes for the small fight and kisses your face over and over again <3

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ricky

like every friday, ricky was taking you on a date. you had fallen sick at the beginning of the week and you kinda wish you could’ve staid home today. but since it was the only day you two could really hang out, you didn't want to cancel your plans. you were sitting on the bed, waiting for ricky who takes forever to get ready. your head starts spinning so you briefly close your eyes in hope that the feeling will go away. you hear him softly call your name, asking your opinion on which tie would suit him better. and you know how they get nose bleeds when they see someone attractive in anime? well today, ricky thought that it could also happen in real life. he starts to laugh, saying how your body can't handle his charm, in a teasing voice. when you tell him it's because you've been sick though, his smile drops immediately. he can't really hide the embarrassing blush on his ears as he apologizes for this bad "joke" (he was completely serious). "then let's stay inside today, yeah?" he suggests, opening his arms for a hug.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ gyuvin

another dramatic one omg... i also see him being kinda terrified of blood so he will probably throw you some tissues from a distance, his face turned away from you and his eyes shut. you can't help but laugh at his behaviour while he screams that it's not something to joke about and that he will call his mom to drop you off at the hospital. "i've just been feeling kinda sick, don't worry about it", you confess but he suddenly grabs your face, shaking it slightly "why didn't you tell me!?", he screams. gyuvin abruptly stops his action, his face growing dark again when he thinks about the possibility of another nose bleed happening from shaking you like this. later, you end up watching a movie together, finally allowing yourself to rest. you can't help but giggle every 5 minutes when you turn your head just to see gyuvin staring at you with big eyes "are you REALLY sure you're okay??". please kiss him and tell him you're alright for the nth time today because my man is STRESSED.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ gunwook

see, gunwook is super attentive so i don't think it would be so easy to hide the fact that you were sick. you noticed how he would check up on you more often, and how he would offer to do the chores for you (even though he would always whine when he had to do them). when you kept telling him that you were alright, he tried to appear less concerned but so many questions were still running at the back of his mind. his assumptions were finally revealed to be true as a drop of blood lands on your sheet while you were studying together. you try to hide your face from him, quickly grabbing a tissue to clean the blood. "let me see." he cups your cheeks, obliging you to look at him. you had never seen him so serious and if you were being honest, the unusual frown on his face was scaring you a little. you spoke first, admitting that you've been sick and apologizing for not letting him know. gunwook shushes you with a peck on your forehead as he sees your eyes water. you spend the entire night talking about your concerns, holding and comforting each other. <3

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yujin

doesn't really make it a big deal. or at least that's how it looks like. yujin has been observing how hard you've working and how you would look a bit more tired than usual. you would reply late to his texts, ignore his calls because you were "sleeping", tell him that you can't meet up because you're busy...again... he was once again having trouble falling asleep tonight as many thoughts were clouding his mind. he had even asked his mom and his friends about how to bring the subject up with you. looking at the time on the clock, he gets up and decides to walk to your house, not knowing if you would even be awake to let him in. you open the door, a tissue stuffed into your nostril and awkwardly greet yujin. he stares at you blankly before letting himself in and closing the door behind him. without a word, he hugs you "you're stupid", his voice sounds weak. you apologize, rubbing his back as you hear his sobs, he must have been so worried to see you like this. "promise me to never overwork yourself again when you're sick", he pulls away and dries his tears. "i promise", you murmurs and interlocks pinkies.

[misshugs]

Feverish || Sam Golbach x Reader

You start getting a really bad fever. the problem about it is not the fever itself, it's the horny feeling that you always seem to get whenever you're sick.

contains: fluff into SMUT +18, soft!Sam, sick!Reader, Sam caring for reader, oral (m), unprotected sex, cursing, pet names, cuddles, no mention of Y/n

a/n: surprise update!

word count: 2k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Everything was moving. Your vision was playing tricks on you as you saw your ceiling moving around. You felt your body heavy, confused as to what was happening.

You can't remember the last time you got sick, even more so having this bad of a fever.

You felt cold, but your body was burning up.

It was around 3 in the evening and you haven't gotten out of bed yet, sweating all over your bed as your pants were the only thing you could think about. Hugging the sheets tightly as you felt yourself shivering.

Sam was supposed to come to your house today. He's been texting, trying to ask if you needed anything before he gets there, but to no use. You left your phone on the kitchen counter last night, and you felt too tired to try and look for it.

Not only tired, but turned on for some reason. Your body felt extremely needy and you were too delusional at the time to really think about anything else.

Minutes later, there was Sam at your door, knocking. Since you didn't respond, he decided to take the spare key you hid just in case. You didn't even notice the door opening when he suddenly asked your name.

Opening your eyes and looking at the door, you saw him hurriedly walking closer to you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He asked, touching your exposed shoulder from the oversize you wore to sleep. "You're burning up."

You softly blinked while looking at him, "Angel...?" You said, having some white dots blind your vision, making him look mystical in your eyes. You tried touching him. "You're an.. angel?" You touched his cheek, only for him to hold your hand down.

"Close, I'm your boyfriend." He smiled, kissing your warm hand. "Baby, you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, looking around. "Where's your phone?"

"Dunno... C'mere." You tried to push him closer to you with the little to no strength you had. "Cuddles."

"Hold up, let me find you some medicine real quick." He said, walking away. You whine, wanting him close to you. Trying to reach out, you end up falling from the bed, now whining at the ache in your body.

He quickly turns back after hearing you. "Oh, god. Are you okay?? Did you get hurt?" Worry in his voice as he picks you up bridal style. You reassure him you were fine. "Be careful, okay?" He kisses your cheek and tries to set you back down on the bed, but you've trapped him now.

"No." You pout, holding him by the neck with your new found strength, not wanting to let go.

"Baby." He laughs at how clingy you suddenly got. He sighs, "Alright, c'mere." He positions your legs around his waist, holding you by the ass. You quickly adjust yourself, getting comfortable as you rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him right.

He softly rubs your back while walking out of the room. Wasting no time, he quickly looks for some medicine and some clean towels to at least try and cool down your fever.

Even though your eyelids felt heavy, you made sure you were able to kiss his neck while he was doing whatever he was doing. It made him laugh at the touch.

"At least you seem to be having fun. You're sweating like crazy though..." He whispers, feeling the sweat drip down your back.

Looking back at the kitchen, he noticed it was extremely dry and clean. "Have you eaten anything?" He asks, knowing that you don't usually leave the kitchen this clean until it's the end of the day since, quoting yourself, 'why clean twice if you'll use them again'.

"No." You whispered, almost unnoticed due to your voice suddenly getting raspy, giving him shivers as your kisses on his neck keep on going. It seems to be keeping you sane from the world spinning so quickly.

"So I'm guessing you haven't gotten out of bed 'til now?" You hummmed. "I'll take that as a yes. Well then." He sighs and walks towards the counter, sitting you down. He softly takes your hands off his neck, making you open your eyes to look at him with a frown.

He laughs at the site, cupping your face and kissing your nose. "I'll be here, I'm going to make you something to eat, but first..." He grabs some pills and a cup of water. "Let's try and cool that fever down."

Without much arguing, you drink the pill down while you look at him cook for you. For a moment, your vision turned normal and you were gazing his way, almost hypnotized by him.

You just wanted to hug him, cuddle with him underneath the sheets while he caresses your hair. Being on top of him, straddling him while you were fast asleep on his chest.

He certainly understood the assignment, since he kept on giving you soft kisses and hugs while he was working on your quick meal.

Although you wanted nonstop touching, you were able to manage for the moment. Merely because you got lost in his figure.

Such a sweet boyfriend you had.

He knew you too well. The food he made was not much, but enough for you to be able to munch it down without problem, just in case you get too full and throw it all up.

He made sure to help you eat, passing a cold towel on your shoulders and face to try and cool you off in the meanwhile.

It did work for a short while.

After some food, you opened your arms towards him, expecting him to carry you back to bed, and so he did.

You don't quite know exactly what was it about your bed that made you feel this way, but as soon as you knew you were inside your room, the urge to merely cuddle changed to sexual desire. As if some aphrodisiac went into your system as soon as you saw him close to a bed.

You sighed on his neck at the feeling, making him shiver. Your dilated eyes being a dead giveaway of your vivid thoughts, not even mentioning your quickly damping panties.

As soon as he tried to lie you down on the bed, you held his face and kissed his lips. He smiled in between and kissed back. Since your legs were surrounding his hips, you moved him to the side, making him lie down next to you.

Hurriedly putting yourself on top of him, you began grinding on his lap, gaining a moan in the midst of the kiss. As you both separated, trying to regain your breath, he sighed your name.

"You look... so good." You panted, hearts in your eyes. "I wanna taste you, Sammy." Your hand was moving through his chest, slowly falling down to the top of his pants.

"S-sweetheart, you're sick... you're supposed to be resting." He said, trying to calm himself down, but his body telling the truth. You felt his rising boner underneath you.

"After..." You whispered, holding onto the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. "I want this..." You continued, releasing his quickly growing friend.

And who was he to protest in your needs? If it is something you believe might make you feel better, so be it.

He sighed when he felt your warm hand over his dick, slowly and painfully touching his tip. He groaned at the feeling, while your mouth was basically watering at his sounds and the look on his face.

You moved to the side, getting your face closer to his dick while your ass was on the air. Licking his tip, you saw his face. A mix of love and lust filled his panting face.

You loved it.

You didn't make him wait much, licking his length before your hand started moving up and down. Sucking onto his tip, you wasted no time and started bobbing your head up and down, slowly pushing it deeper and deeper into your throat.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned, throwing his head back and putting the back of his hand infront of his lips, unable to close his mouth from the pleasure you were giving him. You kept sucking the tip every time you were on the edge of pulling out, it was driving him crazy.

He didn't last long, to say the least. His orgasm quickly reaching as you separated your mouth and started moving your hand faster, opening your mouth, waiting in anticipation.

Moaning, he came all over your face. Whatever got in your mouth you quickly gulped down, licking your lips while looking at his flustered stare.

"Sam." You sighed, giving a quick lick to his tip as you separated from it and crawled towards his face. Kissing and straddling him once again, he held onto your waist.

"You look so needy today, sweetheart." He smiled, grabbing your ass, pushing you down onto him once again, moaning as you feel his heat rubbing your clothed cunt.

"Fuck, Sam. Please..." You panted his name, shivering at the feeling. "I need you."

"Need me to help you, baby?" He said in a deep, romantic voice. You nodded prefusely at his comment.

It seems like a piece of your consciousness went missing for a second, since when you regained it, you had no clothes on. Sam's firm hands on your hips while he positioned himself in your pussy, knowing you were probably too needy for preparation.

In goes the tip, shortly followed by a slow thrust that made you whine, holding his shirt. He grunts for a moment.

"You okay, babe?" He caresses your ass, feeling you quickly tense up, choking his tip with your tightness. You nodded, trying to relax your muscles.

"Keep... going." You sighed, while he peppered your face with kisses. He moved your ass down with caution to not hurt you, slowly. Tempting.

When you were all settled, it took you a few moments to completely relax. As you felt more comfortable, you started moving your hips, letting him know he could move.

Taking notice of your actions, he helped you out. It didn't take long for him to start thrusting quickly inside of you, listening to your moans, leaving wet kisses on your neck.

He switched positions, putting you underneath and lifting one of your legs on top of his shoulders. Hitting those spots he couldn't before, you felt bliss. Your eyes rolled back while you arched your back.

While he went back to your warm, sweaty neck to leave some hickeys, you hugged him. Grabbing his shirt and clawing his back on accident, you surely left some marks to look at later.

You were on de edge of climax, twitching at the knot in your stomach forming up, whimpering. "Fuck, Sam, I'm... I'm coming." Hearing those soft, sexy sounds come out of your mouth, he could've easily cum right there.

"Come for me, baby." He whispered in your ear, speeding up his thrusts. After you moaned loudly and came all over his dick, he gave a few more thrusts before pulling out and releasing himself on your stomach.

Trying to regain your breath, he kissed your lips softly. Standing up, he went to the bathroom and came back with a clean towel to wipe you clean, kissing softly some random parts of your body while he's at it.

You yawned, noticeably exhausted after the session. He smiled at you, fixing you up before lying down next to you and holding you protectively in his arms. "Now we can cuddle." He said.

You hugged back, remembering that other urge that you had before, and successfully taking advantage of the situation you put yourself in. It felt good to be in his arms, even more so when his soft pats on your head seemed so dreamy and kind. The kisses on your forehead making it even better.

A few hours of cuddling later, you felt much more better. In fact, you felt better than most days after you sweat off all of that fever up and took a small nap, and it was all thanks to the best boyfriend ever.

"Are you okay, love?" You asked after he stood up from the bed but stopped moving.

"Yeah, yeah. Just got dizzy." He chuckled. You stood up to touch his forehead, thinking of the possibility.

"...you're burning up." Unfortunately, your suspicion was right. You accidentally gave him a fever.

The question is...

Is he the same as you when you get sick?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

fun fact there was a time where i actually got a horrible fever but i got so clingy and cuddly with everyone around me, so this is based on a true story LMAO (without the hot, sexy boyfriend unfortunately)

-nikkõ