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#okay maybe i do need an ambulance
iron-sides · 2 years
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ok totally unprompted <- lying i just saw a post -> but i need you all to know that i KNOW imagine dragons is kinda mid but have you considered :( its sometimes fun to listen to mediocre music. why do you think ed sheeran is popular (the joke is that when ppl play ed sheeran i sing along even tho id never put him on my playlist cos its not my favorite. anyway im getting off track. does anyone else cringepost More when they gain mutuals to like scare them off if they cant handle u or is that just me)
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some nurses I work with and get patients from give me the impression that they think a patient is opioid addicted and they need to be weaned off, and like even if that is the case 1) I'm not a addiction specialist, I'm their night nurse and their doctors have prescribed pain medication to be available to them, 2) day nurses I think can be more flippant about pain at times because during the day you have things that can distract you while at night, all you get to do is lie in bed and think about how much pain you're in, 3) I don't think a hospital stay for like heart failure is the best time to detox someone, 4) pain is incredibly subjective and I trust patients who've been living in their body for their whole lives more than I trust myself who has been talking to them about their body for five minutes, and 5) some nurses will be like "I don't offer pain medication unless the patient asks for it" and then the patient will ask for it and then it's all "this patient requested pain meds..... drug seeking behavior" like okay wtf are they supposed to do then? Stoically cry one tear down their cheek when I come to check on them so I can benevolently grant them 5 mg of oxy? 6) enduring pain doesn't make people better people, it actually makes people angry and tired and sad, so good luck building your therapeutic rapport while you make them beg for pain medication, maybe all your patients wouldn't be so mean to you if they weren't all suffering the entire time you're responsible for them, 7) if you aren't gonna give opioids and you're also not gonna page the doc for other meds and you're not gonna get ice packs and you're not gonna reposition your patient and you're not gonna ambulate them when they say that helps their hips and you're not gonna talk to them for a while to distract them and you're not gonna get them a jello cup to eat if they want, then literally how are you better than a little roomba with a med cup full of Lipitor scooting into their room?
I'm aware of the risks of opioids, I don't give them when it isn't safe or indicated, and I'm also aware that opioids aren't even good for all types of pain, but they can be an absolute gift to patients who need them. They aren't inherently evil. We don't have to make people suffer to improve their character. Even if suffering did that (it doesn't), improving character is outside my scope of practice. Here's some morphine.
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shewroteaworld · 6 months
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I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't
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Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.
Word count: approx. 3,200
TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals
(Y/N/N): Your nickname
Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!
“Does anybody have more water?”
“Where is the damn ambulance?”
Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 
Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?
“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 
“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 
“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”
Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 
“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 
You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.
 “What I do?” You whined. 
“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”
“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 
You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.
“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.
Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 
Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.
Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.
“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.
“No!” You exclaimed.
“Honey–” Morgan tried. 
You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 
“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.
“She needs water.” JJ countered.
“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”
Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  
You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?
Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 
Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.
“(Y/N), relax.”
“Honey, please–”
“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 
***
Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 
He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 
But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 
Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.
Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.
When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.
You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 
He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 
“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.
“We’re trying, she—”
“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.
Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 
“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 
“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 
Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 
“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.
Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 
“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”
“This was for her to drink.”
“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 
Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”
Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 
“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 
“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.
Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 
Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”
“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.
Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 
“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”
“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.
Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”
“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”
The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 
Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.
Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”
“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 
“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 
“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.
You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 
Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.
He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.
“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”
The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 
“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 
“I can’t…I don’t know.”
“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”
“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.
Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 
One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.
After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 
“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”
He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”
***
Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 
“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 
“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 
Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”
“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 
“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 
Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.
The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.
Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 
You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 
So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 
He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.
***
When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.
Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 
“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 
He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.
“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”
You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”
He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.
There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 
His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 
He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–
“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”
“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.
“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.
Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 
“What hurts?”
“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 
He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 
“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 
Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”
The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 
“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”
You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 
In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 
“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 
Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.
“Um…”
Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”
You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”
“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.
“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 
“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 
He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.
You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”
“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.
“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.
“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.
“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”
Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 
“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.
“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 
Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.
He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 
“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”
Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”
Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”
You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 
And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.
There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 
Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”
Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”
“And who says you don't make her happy?”
“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.
Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.
“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.
Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 
“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.
Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”
Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 
Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 
For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 
But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.
But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.
And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.
And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.
Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)
Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)
Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.
Forever grateful,
shewroteaworld
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intoxicated-chan · 11 months
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Come Back to Me, It’s Almost Easy
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✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Memories from his past come back to haunt him. Reminding him of how much he’s failed.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Almost Easy” by Avenged Sevenfold. I’m in the mood for some heavy angst. Requests are open!!
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 870
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, heavy angst, major character death, sleep deprivation, death, blood, light violence…
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“You have a choice between saving one person or saving every world.”
Miguel knew it all too well. He’s gone through it just like every other Spider-Man, so it’s nothing new. He should’ve expected it coming which is why he never really reacted or mourned his losses.
He knows what’s coming, which means he shouldn’t have felt this awful about himself. It was almost easy for him to move on from everyone else, but the loss of the most important people broke him.
He can easily tell other Spider-Mans that it’s part of the job, so get up and continue doing what you’re doing. But when he’s asked to do it, he can’t help but cry out loud, the feeling of going crazy by asking him to forget everything. He can’t do that.
But the way he held you in his arms, the way your fingers weakly grazed his face… He won’t forget the way he begged you to stay with him, and how shameful he felt when he realized that no matter how different he chose to do things, it was always going to be the same.
“You’ve been awake for almost 48 hours, Miguel.” Peter B. told him, Mayday in his arms as he watched Miguel struggle to stay awake, “Maybe you should take a break?”
“M’fine.” Miguel nearly pulled at his hair, huffing heavily as he stared into the screen, “Everything is fine.”
“I asked if you were fine, not everyone else.”
“And I said that I am fine.” Miguel growled at Peter B. “And besides, don’t you have better things to do than bother me?”
“I’m just worried about you, Miguel.” Peter B. stepped closer but remained a good distance just in case, “Everyone else is worried, even Miles. We’re here for you.”
“And I said…” Miguel slammed his hands on his desk, “Leave me be!” Snapping at Peter B. without even looking at him, “I don’t need you breathing on my back.”
“Okay, okay.” Peter B. mumbled, hurrying off before Mayday could begin to cry.
But Miguel didn’t react, he remained hunched over at his desk. Watching as multiple screens popped up and then closed by Lyla. His eyes had started to burn, and he began to slump over his desk and maybe, fall asleep.
But the second he felt fingers running through his hair, it caused him to abruptly stand up. He scanned every inch of the room… But he was all alone.
“Miguel?” He flinched, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He then huffed after a minute, learning that it was Lyla who just spoke to him.
“Just perfect.” He heavily sighed, “Everything is perfect. Not like I’ve lost an entire family in an instant. So yeah, I think I’m doing good.”
He hears Lyla sigh, “Get some sleep.” She said but sounded like a demand, “I won’t say it again.”
He thought about the scenario over again, what mistakes he made and how easily the warning signs showed from the start. If he had never let his guard down, his family would still be alive.
Miguel sighed once more. He had to apologize to Peter B. and fast, it wasn’t his fault, he was just worried about him.
“Now do you believe me?” You softly spoke as you watched Miguel cradle his daughter in his arms, “See? You aren’t hurting her.”
“I guess I should believe you more often.” Miguel softly spoke as she began to sleep in his arms, “Thank you, (Y/n).”
“For what?”
“For giving me a chance.”
“Anything for you, Miguel. You deserve the world.”
He shouldn’t have. He never should have believed that it was all true. Pushing away his mindset and letting him fall into the beautiful feeling of love. If he didn’t, then you’d be continuing your life that didn’t involve him.
“Stay with me, (Y/n)!” Miguel cried, his tears streaming down his face, “The ambulance is almost here! Just hold on a bit longer!” But the ambulance isn’t in his sight. So, carefully, he began to stand, still holding onto you.
“Don’t.” You cough, “I need you to promise me, Miguel.” He feels your hand come up to his face, weakly trying to wipe away the tears, “Take care of her Miguel…”
He drops to his knees, “Don’t say that!” You laid on the ground, his hands coming up to cup your face.
“She’ll need her father.”
“I can’t do this without you!”
“Let her know that her mother will always love her…” You cough, then cough again, and then again until he sees blood spilling from your mouth, “No matter what happens.”
“Stop! Please!” He begs you.
“And know that forever, I’ll always love you…” Your voice gets weaker by the second, your vision begins to fade, “No matter how far you go. I’ll be here.”
He remembered the sounds of the sirens. How hard it took him to force himself to put his mask on as he watched the medical technicians try to help you.
And so, Miguel stopped wishing for a lot of things. But there was always one wish… If he could go back in time to fix things, could he be able to have the family he wished for?
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© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.
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luveline · 5 months
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I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.
maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out
ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty 
cw criminal minds typical gun violence
Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning. 
The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly. 
In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt. 
You'd like to keep it that way. 
It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour. 
Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again. 
It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return. 
You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage. 
It's deep but small. A nick. 
The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means… 
You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid. 
He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor. 
"You were sleeping? I'm sorry." 
"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream." 
He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?" 
"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?" 
"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence." 
"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay." 
You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?" 
"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?" 
"You want to tell me, right?" 
"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope." 
"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again. 
"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."
Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?" 
"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside." 
"What were you doing up?" 
"That's my business," Morgan says. 
Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers. 
Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops. 
Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby. 
"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?" 
"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?" 
Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading. 
"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night." 
She gawps. 
Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never…  and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–" 
You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?" 
"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down." 
"Yes sir." 
Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly. 
Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…" 
"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh. 
"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me." 
"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now." 
Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away. 
"I don't deserve him," you say softly. 
Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something. 
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reiderwriter · 6 months
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The One Thing You Can't Have
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Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)
Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.
Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception
A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!
With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.
When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.
You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.
"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.
The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.
"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.
He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.
The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.
"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.
"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.
"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.
You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.
After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.
Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.
There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.
After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.
He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.
It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.
He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.
You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.
“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.
“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.
It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.
You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.
“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.
He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.
Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.
To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.
“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.
“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.
“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.
“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.
“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”
“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.
Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.
Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.
So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.
Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.
So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.
“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.
“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.
“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.
“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.
“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”
“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”
“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.
Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.
“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.
He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.
“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”
And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.
You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.
It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.
He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.
He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.
When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.
You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.
The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.
You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.
"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.
Derek was going to give him hell.
"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."
"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.
"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.
His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.
He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.
He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.
It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.
The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.
Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.
Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.
The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.
The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.
"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.
"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.
"Y/N, how drunk are you?"
"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.
"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.
"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"
"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.
"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.
"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."
"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.
"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.
"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.
He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.
And he had a third pair of your underwear.
He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.
He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.
Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.
It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.
In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.
The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.
You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.
They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.
"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.
You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.
"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.
Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.
"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."
"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.
You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.
"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.
Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.
Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.
He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.
You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.
You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.
"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."
"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.
By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.
Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.
Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.
Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.
You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.
This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.
Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.
You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.
He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.
But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.
Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.
You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.
Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.
The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.
With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.
Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.
His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.
He was screwed.
"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.
Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.
"What did I miss?"
"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."
"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.
"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.
"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.
But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.
But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.
He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.
"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.
You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.
He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.
"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.
"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.
"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."
"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.
"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.
For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.
"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.
“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.
“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”
You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.
Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.
When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.
“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.
“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”
“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”
The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.
“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.
He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.
Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.
“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.
“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.
“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.
“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.
“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.
“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”
“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”
“Was that a threat, Spencer?”
“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”
“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”
“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”
“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.
Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.
When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.
“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”
“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.
“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”
You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.
“Peace offering?”
He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.
“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”
He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.
Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.
“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”
“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.
“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”
“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.
His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.
He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.
Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.
You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.
You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.
“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.
“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.
When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up
You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.
“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.
You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.
You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.
“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.
“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”
“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.
You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.
“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”
You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.
Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.
Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.
“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.
“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.
There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.
“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.
“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.
“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.
“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.
“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.
“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.
“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”
“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.
“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.
“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”
“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”
“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.
“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”
“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.
“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.
You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.
“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.
“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”
“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.
“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.
“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.
“What?”
“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.
“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.
“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.
“Spencer! What are you doing?”
“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”
“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.
“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.
2K notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 2 months
Note
Poly!EMT!Marauders x reader where they are in an established relationship and she gets really hurt… I’m a slut for hurt/comfort and protective bfs
Thanks for requesting!
cw: bike accident, injuries, concussion
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words
You don’t remember getting out your phone, but Remus answers on the second ring. 
“Hello?”
“I…um…”
The woman who’d stopped to help eases the phone out of your grasp, putting it to her ear. “Hello?” 
She starts to fill Remus in on what’s happened. A car moved into the bike lane, probably by mistake. They didn’t see you. You’d panicked, throwing yourself away from it and out of the road. You’d hit the ground hard. The car had kept going. You’re not sure you can move. 
Your body, the entire left side, is in agony, stinging and burning and throbbing all at once. The ground is cold, seeping through your clothes. Your head is warm, though. Fuzzy. 
“Dove?” There’s an insistent tapping at your cheek. “Dove, come on, lovely.” 
Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. Something pushes against a sore spot on your head, and a whine escapes you. 
“There you go, just open your eyes.” Remus’ face is in front of yours, his eyes flitting between your eyes and something else. “Good job. I need you to stay awake for me, okay?” 
You make a sound somewhere between a hum and a moan. 
“Do you know where you are?” 
You squint up at him. The sun filters through your boyfriend’s hair like a halo. “A car almost hit me.” 
Remus’ eyebrows draw further together. “I heard, honey. Can you tell me what day it is?” 
“Mhm.” 
He waits a second. “What day?” 
“What?” 
“It’s Tuesday,” the woman says helpfully. 
Her voice comes from over by the road. You try to turn your head to find her, to say thank you, but Remus stops you with a hand on your jaw. 
“Thank you,” he calls to her. “I’m just testing her for a concussion, though.” 
You think you see him roll his eyes when he turns back towards you. 
“Okay.” He sets a hand on top of your head, warm and weighty and reassuring. You close your eyes, savoring the touch. “Hey, eyes open.” There’s a gentle stroke at your cheek, then a hard tap. You look at him. “Sorry, love, you’ve gotta stay awake. James and Sirius are on their way, okay?” 
“They…” You feel your eyebrows pinch. “They’re at work.” 
“I know. They’re coming in the ambulance, to help.” 
You feel the beginnings of a groggy sort of terror. It chills your blood and clogs your airways. You don’t want to go to the hospital. You want Sirius and James, but you want them to take you home. You want the soft warmth of your bed, not needles and prodding and the harshness of all those sounds and lights.
“Hey,” Remus says. His thumb strokes at your temple. You hear a shrill wailing in the distance, coming towards you. “Hey, look at me—you’re safe, honey.” His eyebrows press close together as he looks into your eyes, imploring. “It’s going to be okay.” 
The ambulance gets there quicker than you can respond, or maybe you just sit in silence until it arrives. Time is moving oddly. Your breath seems to take ages to pass through your lungs, but in a blink Sirius is hopping out of the van, jogging to your side. 
“She’s got a concussion, definitely dislocated shoulder and likely broken wrist,” Remus calls as he approaches. 
“Got it.” Sirius crouches in front of you. “Hello, gorgeous. Rough morning?” 
“A little.” 
He grins, lopsided and a bit strained. “Looks like it. Well don’t worry, our first order of business is getting you on some pain meds.” 
“I don’t want a needle.” 
Sirius’ smile slips a bit. “Sure you do, dollface. Trust me, it’ll help.” 
“You’re going to be in so much less pain with an IV,” Remus reasons, still stroking your hairline. “You won’t even know it’s there.” 
“I don’t…” 
James comes over with a gurney. “How’s our girl doing?”
“Great.” Sirius takes the hand on your uninjured side, giving it a little squeeze. “We’re gonna need a splint and a sling, but she should be okay to move.” 
The boys don’t need much talking to coordinate, and a second later you’re being transferred onto the gurney. Remus and James hold your injured arm tight to your side, and still a muffled groan tears from between your teeth. 
“I know, sweetheart.” James kisses your forehead as they stand the gurney up. “I know, I’m sorry.” 
He’s holding something to your head. You try to look up at it, but you can’t. “What is that?” 
“This? It looks like, uh…a dish towel? Rem?” 
Remus shrugs, crawling up into the ambulance. “I knew she was bleeding, and I took what was on hand.” 
Bleeding. You had been bleeding, you remember. You wonder how much you’d lost. You feel a bit less foggy now, though still a bit dazed. 
“How bad is it?” you ask James quietly. 
“Not bad,” he tells you, looking at you as he says it so you’ll know he’s being honest. He helps Sirius lift you into the ambulance. “You’ll need a couple of stitches, but it won’t be horrid.” 
You must pale at the mention of stitches, because Remus gives you a sympathetic look, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “Don’t worry about it right now, dove. I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not on shift, so I can stay after the boys drop us off.” 
“Fuck that,” Sirius says, lifting the dish towel from your head to get a look at the cut. “I’m staying too.” 
“It’s been a slow day,” James agrees. “If they need us for anything, we’ll go back out.” 
Sirius huffs. “We’ll see.” He presses some gauze over your cut, taping it down. 
James goes to the window at the front, telling the paramedic driving that you’re good to go. You feel something cold on your arm, and look over to see Remus cleaning the crook of your elbow with a wipe just before Sirius blocks your view with his hand. He tilts your head back towards him. 
“Look at me,” he instructs. “You’re okay, baby.” 
You try to look back towards Remus, but Sirius’ hand is firm, keeping you still. 
“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he offers. “We’re going to give the pain meds a few minutes to kick in, then put your wrist in a brace. Our best bet for your shoulder is just to keep it still until” —You hiss as you feel the small needle pierce your skin, and Sirius’ brows twitch together commiseratingly—  “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll keep your shoulder still until we get to the hospital, and there, they’ll set that, stitch your head up, and give you a cast for your wrist. Sound okay, doll?” 
“Yeah,” you manage. 
He presses his lips to your forehead, letting them sit there for a second before pulling away. When he moves his hand, Remus has just finished taping down the IV. 
He runs his thumb over the delicate skin of your forearm fondly. “You’re doing so well, dove.”
“Thanks,” you squeak, and your vision blurs frustratingly. You press your lips together. 
“Hey, what’s up?” James’ tone is light, but you can hear the worry behind it. “Is it the pain?”
You shake your head, closing your eyes as tears slip down your face. You’ve got no good hands to wipe them with, an IV in one arm and the other limp and useless. 
“You’re alright.” Remus rubs your good shoulder. His voice is low and tranquilizing. “Take a breath.” 
“I—I can’t stop.” Your breath comes in embarrassing, ragged gasps. “I’m sorry.” 
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, angel,” James says. “Just breathe.”
You try, filling your lungs as best you can with your eyes still squeezed shut. The hot tears remind you of the feeling of warm blood on your face, and that only makes you cry harder. Remus rubs your shoulder, murmuring quiet assurances. 
After a while, Sirius speaks tentatively. “The meds should be working by now,” he says. “Do you feel any better?” 
You sniff. You hadn’t even noticed the pain fading. “Yeah, I—I think so.” 
“Okay.” He thumbs at your tears almost apologetically. “We’re gonna use this blow-up thingy to stabilize your wrist.” 
“It shouldn’t hurt too badly,” James says, taking your hand in his, “but if it does, just give me a squeeze, okay?” He smiles. “You can break my hand a little if you need to. Then we’ll really be in this together.” 
You do your best to smile back at him. He looks like he appreciates it. 
“Deep breaths,” Remus reminds you as they pump up the splint. 
You tear up again and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of James’ hand, but it’s over quicker than you expected. Sirius kisses your hairline. 
“Now we’re just waiting,” he reassures you. “We can’t do anything else until we get there.” 
You’re relieved. “Hey, what happened to that lady?” 
“Who?” 
“The lady who was…she was there.” 
“The woman who helped you call me?” Remus asks. “She left.” 
“She did?” 
“Yeah, honey. Just before James and Sirius got to us. You don’t remember?” 
“Wait, was that the driver?” Sirius asks. “She didn’t stay?” 
“No.” Remus’ tone turns sour. “The driver didn’t stop.” 
You don’t have to look at Sirius to feel his ire. It comes off him like waves of heat. “Fucker,” he seethes. 
“Sirius,” James says warningly. 
“I think it was an accident,” you say, trying to calm him. 
“Hitting a biker is an accident.” Sirius’ voice is low and dangerous. “A careless, idiotic accident, but leaving them, without even knowing what happened, is fucking—”
“Sirius,” Remus says sternly. “Not the time, love.” 
Sirius looks at you, softening. “Sorry, doll, you know I’d never leave you. But after we’re done here, I’m quitting my job to hunt that prick down.” 
“Full time?” James asks curiously. “Like what, Liam Neeson or something?” 
“Exactly like that.” 
“Doesn’t seem like a great way to make money.” 
“You won’t cover my portion of the rent for a couple months while I avenge our cruelly maimed sweetheart?” Sirius is aghast. “Have you no sense of justice?” 
“Am I maimed?” you ask, part joking but part genuinely alarmed. 
“Of course not, love,” Remus assures you quickly. He shoots Sirius a vexed look. “Maiming implies a permanency that doesn’t apply here. You’ll be fine.” 
“I was really just talking about the injustice part of it,” Sirius admits. 
“I’d rather not be avenged,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it if we got to keep you, and you didn’t hunt anyone down or get thrown in prison or anything.” 
“Mmm, I’ll consider it.” He kisses just above your eyebrow. “Say I abandon my vigilante life, what could I do instead that would make you feel better?” 
“A hug?” 
“Let me see what I can do.” 
1K notes · View notes
Note
Okay so this is my first request even having read all your work always forget to request something but i just had this random idea. So basically i had acl surgery today (wont get into that 😂) but i was just wondering if you could possibly right a fic about Lando where girlfriend gets surgery and basically like the whole thing is just fluff tbh add whatever u want or whatever surgery if u actually write this. But i just feel like lando would definitely make me feel loved after surgery
I'll Meet You There - LN
I'm switching this up, inspired by the Williams driver below. We're going in for the kill with emergency surgery to get that appendix removed. But dw! Bc super protective, fluffy, loving, caring, worried Lando is going to be in full swing.
Also I hope you are healing and feeling better. I'm sorry this took a while to write and upload. I didn't actually realise it would be this long but I think it's worth it (I hope). Love ya lots, and thank you for the request, please feel free to send in more!
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Y/n had figured the pain was cramps or maybe just one of those random pains that we all get, have a momentary panic of an organ failing then it goes away. She really assumed it was all nothing. Then the pain got worse and she got a fever, her skin got so prickly she could handle anyone even brushing past her without it making her whole body ache.
Lando has been thrown into the Las Vegas rush of media and showboating. So he hasn't seen much of her, but his trainer Jon, has very much noticed her quickly deteriorating health.
"I'll tell him later. Y/n, you really need to get to the hospital but if this is the only compromise you have to promise you'll do as they say." Jon instructs as she winces getting to the medical centre.
"Please don't tell him if there's nothing wrong."
Jon withholds a scoff. If there's nothing wrong then someone is lying to them.
He thinks ahead figuring he'll end up trusting her to be left with the doctor and leaves instructions for him to be contacted as soon as they know what's going on.
What he doesn't expect is for her to be called for an ambulance and a heads up that she'll need to be immediately taken in for emergency surgery because her appendix is possibly minutes away from rupturing.
A moral dilemma of telling Lando is on the brink, but when y/n grabs Jon's collar and yanks him close to her as she pants in pain. He knows it's not a choice he's going to get to make.
"Do not dare tell him about this. Go be his trainer, not his friend. He can be mad about it later, but he's needs to focus on the race and just-ok, I can't keep talking." Y/n winces with her whole body twitching in pain.
"Alright, no telling him till after the race."
"Good. Ok. Go." She nods only managing one word between each ragged breath.
-
Turned out that Lando didn't even make it to the lap 5, a bump in the track left him slamming into a wall. The hit was hard and he ended up with his own trip to the same hospital that y/n is currently having surgery in.
Jon with him, he does take a moment of Lando being examined to rush and find out what is happening with y/n.
"Hi, can I check what is happening with y/n y/l/n? She was brought in for emergency surgery due to appendicitis." Jon states making the nurse look at him for a moment. "I'm the reason she even bothered to see a doctor to send her here. He boyfriend is the F1 driver who just came in after a crash and he doesn't know, I have to tell him. Please, tell me good news."
"She's still in surgery. But her appendix ruptured on the way here. It's going to be longer than initially expected due to that and there may be complications. I will try to find out more but mid-surgery, it's hard to really get any information." The nurse sighs making him grimace but nod.
Appendicitis is pretty notorious for it's risk of quickly taking a bad turn. If it's caught early enough then it's less likely for it to be such a threat to life.
Now he has to tell Lando. Although the driver has been given drugs to ease his pain from the crash, so maybe it won't be so bad of a reaction to the news. But even with drugs, Lando will likely not be happy.
"Hey, mate. How you feeling?" Jon asks making Lando look over at him for a moment looking a little like he's slowly processing it.
"Good. Better. Have you got my phone though? Just want to let some people know I'm alright, especially y/n. She'll be freaking out." Lando nods making a grabby hand for his phone.
"Y/n...is actually in the hospital." Jon states hesitantly before making sure to quickly add that it's not for Lando. "She's in emergency surgery for appendicitis."
"She what? What do you mean? When did she-Why did you not tell me?!"
"Because she knew you'd freak out and I think she hoped the surgery would be finished by the time you finished the race."
Almost as if she felt summoned the nurse he'd asked about y/n appears and looks at Lando for a moment before looking at Jon.
"The surgery is going well given the circumstances. They believe she'll be out within the hour and they'll just need to hold her for observation to make sure there's nothing wrong."
"Thank you." Jon nods but Lando has sat himself up.
"Sorry, what circumstances? Can someone fill me in?"
"Y/n's appendix did rupture before they got her into surgery. But it's going well and that's all you need to worry about." Jon states making Lando looks like he is in shock at Jon being so dismissive about it. "She's ok. You'll see her soon."
-
Lando refused to leave the hospital till y/n was out of surgery and he could at least see her. So he waited and eventually got to see her, she's on a few monitors and still knocked out from the surgery, but it's obvious she's being well cared for.
"Can you go back to the paddock and just tell everyone what's going on?" Lando asks with a heavy sigh earning an immediate nod from his trainer.
"Yeah, I'll sort everything out. You just let me know when she wakes up and if she's ok." Jon states making Lando nod before the two exchange a hug and Lando settles himself down beside her.
Lando ends up scrolling through his phone for a while. Updating his Instagram about y/n and the fact she was in the hospital getting her appendix removed without him knowing anything about it while he was racing.
It takes another hour for her to wake up and Lando is more than relieved.
"Finally back to the land of the living." Lando smiles softly while she looks at him with a grin. "Never ever ever, hide this shit from me again."
"Pretty sure I can only get my appendix removed the once." She laughs then shivering a little. "Fucking hell it's freezing in here."
That makes Lando act quickly to press the nurse button and get extra blankets for his girlfriend while almost making to climb into the bed with her while being cautious of not causing any damage or pain since she does have staples from the surgery.
"Hold on...why are you still in your race suit?" Y/n asks realising that Lando's still completely dressed from the race.
"I crashed...had to come here for some tests because it was...a pretty big impact."
"I'm going to assume you're ok."
"Yeah, I'm fine." Lando nods while kissing her temple. "I was more concerned when Jon finally told me about you...how much was it hurting?"
"I was sick in the ambulance and that's why it ruptured. Then I passed out, or at least that's how I remember it." Y/n explains before smiling at her. "I'm just glad I can't feel that shit again. Because it fucking felt like I was dying."
Lando feels his stomach feel churn just at the thought. Especially since he was completely unaware that she was at all that ill.
"I'm just glad you're ok." Lando sighs then sighing as his phone rings. "It's Andrea."
"Answer it, he'll want to check that you're ok." Y/n smiles patting Lando's chest.
Lando hums answering the phone and putting it on speaker so she can hear exactly what the team principal says.
"Hey, Lando. Is y/n awake and ok?"
Y/n can't even stop herself from laughing while Lando chuckles.
"Yeah, I'm good. Gonna probably be left behind for some recovery time. Feels like they moved some stuff around inside of me to get to my appendix." Y/n giggles since herself and Andrea do spend a lot of time together since she likes to go up to him and bug him often. His soft spot for her means she probably should've predicted he'd be more concerned about her.
But equally Jon would've made it priority to inform him that Lando is completely fine and has only not returned because of y/n.
"That's good. Jon said that you're alright, Lando. We'll loop you in for the debrief on call-"
"No. He's on his way back."
"No. I'm not."
"Yes, because I need you to grab me stuff from the hotel anyway. So if you go to the debrief, then the hotel and grab me all the stuff I might need then it works out for everyone." Y/n smiles before she yawns lightly and groans a little. "Please?"
Lando really doesn't want to leave her. The expression on his face says that the last thing he wants is to be anywhere but by her side until she's discharged because then he knows she really is ok and there's no risk of things taking a sudden and unexpected turn.
"Alright, fine. I'll be at the debrief as soon as I can get back." Lando sighs after a very prolonged silence.
"Great, well I'll see you soon. Y/n please keep us all informed, especially Lando since he already sounds unhappy about this." Andrea states making her look at him for a moment.
"No problem." Y/n smiles while looking at an annoyed looking Lando watching her.
The call ends and Lando sighs getting up, carefully making sure she's not risking bursting those staples.
"I love you." Lando grunts making the young woman sigh at him. "Don't give me that look. I don't want to leave you."
"I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here while you're gone and I'll be here when you come back." Y/n promises making him hum, still clearly upset about leaving her. "I love you."
"Please call and text me if there's any change. I'm going to make sure the hospital has me as your next of kin. I don't want anyone else contacted if something happens."
"You...You want to be my next of kin?" Y/n questions, her voice wobbling a little which makes Lando look at her in shock that she'd even ask.
"Baby, the fact that I'm not already is annoying as it is." Lando smiles lightly moving to kiss her. "I'm going to make sure this is the quickest debrief ever. Especially since I only did 3 full laps."
"Do you know what to grab from the hotel or do you want me to send you a list?" Y/n asks making him scoff. "Alright, now you're just getting cocky."
"We'll see about that when I bring everything you need and only every you need. Maybe a couple things that you want."
Y/n smiles a little since she completely trusts Lando. He makes the effort to know this sort of thing because it really means something to her and he knows it.
"I'll see you soon then." Y/n whispers earning another kiss.
"Yes you will."
-
Now when Lando returns with multiple of the other drivers all of whom discovered why she had disappeared and decided they would all be paying her a visit.
"This is for you." Lando smiles handing her a gift bag and card as everyone sits down with what appears to be a feast of food. "You can't eat, but I check and the nurse said we could try a milkshake."
"Thank you...whats the card and gift?"
"Alex's...suggestion." Lando hints making her raise an eyebrow.
She opens the card first and nearly chokes on her spit when she sees the front.
"Sorry for your loss." Y/n cackles earning a grin from Lando and Alex. "You are both such muppets."
"You'll feel the loss more when you're out of the hospital." Alex declares while she looks at him almost too amused to be able to contain her laughter. Plus she doesn't want to explain to a doctor she split the staples from laughing too hard because her boyfriend and his friend got a her a sympathy card for her appendix.
"I'm going to keep this forever for the record." Y/n states earning a grin from both Alex and Lando before Lando moves to sit with her and they seem to have the most un-Vegas post-race celebration ever.
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pucksandpower · 7 months
Note
okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭
Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves
Series Masterlist
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“She’s bleeding out!”
Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.
You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”
“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.
George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”
Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”
From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”
There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”
Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”
You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”
Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”
Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”
Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”
Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“
The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”
You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”
***
The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”
“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”
George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”
Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”
Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.
“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.
“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”
The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”
Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”
Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”
The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”
“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”
The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.
“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.
She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”
Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”
She chuckles, “I could go for that.”
***
The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.
A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”
The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.
“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”
Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”
George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”
The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”
Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”
The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.
Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”
“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”
***
After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”
Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”
George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”
Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”
Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”
“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”
“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.
She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”
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woso-dreamzzz · 21 days
Text
Nena V
Barcelona Femení x Child!Reader
Summary: You're sick
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It started with a little cough.
Ingrid didn't really think anything of it. Sometimes, you just had a cough. It wasn't really a big thing which was why she was so happy to leave you in Mapi's company while she went to do some media things.
Only, the cough seemed to be getting worse.
It started out as a little tickle in the back of your throat at breakfast and then got more and more scratchy as time went on. Your head started to pound too and your arms felt all weird and heavy in a way that you had never really experienced before.
"Hey," Mapi said, shaking you lightly," Are you okay?"
You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut. "My throat don' like me, Mapi," You said, squeezing at your neck as if it would help.
You coughed again. Your eyebrows drew together after it took you a while to stop.
From just outside your field of vision, a hand moved until it was pressed against your forehead.
Your frown deepened as you darted your eyes to the side. The hand belonged to Irene. You looked at her.
She was frowning too. "Does it hurt to swallow, Nena?"
You nodded miserably.
"Say aah."
"Aah!"
Irene moved closer so she could look in your mouth, frown deepening for a moment before she drew away and nodded.
"You've got a case of tonsillitis there, Nena."
You don't know that word but you nodded because Irene is a mama and mamas know things like this.
"Tonsillitis?!" Mapi exclaimed, her voice going very squeaky," Shit! Is she going to die? Do we need to call an ambulance?!"
Irene rolled her eyes. "She just needs some medicine and for you to calm down. Once Ingrid's back, you can take her home. It's not that serious."
Mapi certainly looked like this was serious. "Does she need them removed?!"
Irene laughed. "Not right now. If it gets worse or keeps happening then yes, maybe, but what she needs now is medicine and some water. Calm down, Mapi."
Mapi took a deep breath before panic flashed on her face. "I don't have kid's medicine!"
"I do." Irene pulled a little bottle out of her bag and shook it. "I was meant to bring it home for Matteo but I'm sure he can share."
You dutifully took the medicine even though it tasted kind of yucky and drank the water Mapi put in front of you.
Breakfast was easy after that but there was separate training for the defenders so Mapi had to hand you off to someone else to watch.
Tia Alexia sat next to you when she took a break from her gym session.
You felt better than earlier but still a little bad.
Tia Alexia checked your temperature like how Irene did and you leaned into her cold hand. She laughed.
"Careful there, Nena," She said," Don't go falling asleep on me."
"'m not sleepin'," You slurred, forcing your eyes open and squinting at her.
"Sure you're not," Alexia said, pushing the hair out of your eyes," But I need those eyes of yours open. Can I check your throat?"
Everyone had been checking your throat now. Irene did it earlier. Mapi did it a lot before she trained. Even Marta and Caro had looked at it for some reason.
It was routine now so you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue.
Alexia looked inside for a moment, nodding a few times before getting you to drink from your water bottle. She checked your throat again afterwards before she went back to her weights.
She kept looking back at you though, as if to check you hadn't disappeared or anything.
Honestly, you don't think that you have the strength to just up and disappear. You were content to be miserable on the floor with your scratchy throat until your next babysitter came to get you.
You missed Ingrid. You wish she finished her job so she could come and get you. Last year when you had the flu, Ingrid flew all the way back home to make sure you were okay. Mama didn't like that because she thought it was making you co-dependent or something but Ingrid and you didn't care.
Ingrid made the best soup and she had medicine that tasted nice, not like the one that Irene gave you earlier.
"What with the grumpy face, Nena?" Lucy asked as she joined you, poking at your cheek. "Why aren't you smiling?"
"Ingrid's not here," You whined," And I'm sick."
"You're sick? How come?"
"I just am!" As if the punctuate your point, you flew into a big coughing fit.
Lucy looked very worried, flapping her hands about like Mapi did earlier and looking around the room as if someone would save her.
Tia Alexia came back and wedged the straw of your bottle back into your mouth as soon as you finished coughing.
"When is Ingrid done?" She asked as you drank your water," Nena really needs to go home. Some cuddles and a nap would do her wonders."
"She should be done soon," Lucy said," I don't think she knows yet. I can go and check."
"No," Alexia said," I'll send Patri and Pina. You've still got a gym session to get through."
"I can wait with her until Ingrid comes," Lucy insisted, looking down pointedly at you as you began to scratch at your throat again," Do we need to give her more medicine? She looks uncomfortable."
Alexia looked at her watch. "We've still got another two hours before we can give her another dose."
You scratched harder at your throat and Lucy gently took your hand to bring it away. You whined a little, pulling out her grip. She was running warm. You didn't like that. You wish she were cold like Tia Alexia was.
Lucy was like a furnace as she sat next to you and you edged as far away as possible. You tugged at your shirt and kept having to shift around because your clothes were sticking uncomfortably to your skin.
Your throat was getting very scratchy again and you whined.
"Ooh," A new voice said," That doesn't sound very good."
You whined again and raised your arms.
Ingrid picked you up instantly, checking your forehead with the back of her hand and looking down your throat like everyone else had done.
"Irene says there's somethin' wrong with my tonsils," You replied.
Ingrid smiled, pushing your head into her neck. "That's okay," She said," How about we go home? I'll make you some soup and we'll have some cuddles."
"With Bagheera?"
"Yes, with Bagheera."
"Is your Mapi coming?"
"Mapi can come too."
"And I get soup?"
Ingrid laughed. "Yes, you get soup."
"Okay."
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wosoamazing · 1 month
Text
Broken
Summary: You break your ankle and Alexia takes care of you.
Warnings: Broken ankle, hospital & surgery, vomit (once)
A/N: I hope you like this, I'm trying to get a heap of my WIPs done, while I still have time. Also to those anons with the new requests I've added them to the WIPs.
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It was the 25th minute when you found yourself tumbling to the ground from a badly timed tackle a Lyon defender played, you clutched at your ankle, trying to suppress your cries as you laid on the pitch.
“Y/N, are you okay? I’m really sorry,” a familiar voice said as they rubbed your back trying to reassure you, the ref hadn’t stopped play yet, but that didn’t stop her from checking on you. Eventually the ref blew the whistle.
“Number 12, I’d like to speak to you please,” you heard the ref say as the hand that rested on your back left, it was very quickly replaced by another though.
“Y/N, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Aitana asked you.
“Ankle, broken,” you managed to spit out, trying to hold back the tears that choked you.
The medics took one look at your ankle and decided it was most definitely broken, you refused the stretcher and so they helped you to the medical room, where an ambulance stretcher was awaiting you, you were helped up onto it and your ankle was placed in one of the weird orange puffy things to protect it, the paramedics spoke to your team’s physios filling out all the medical information and history forms.
“Bebita,” Alexia said as she flung open the door, her voice laced with concern, “are you okay,” you broke at her words, the flood gates came crashing down, tears streamed out of your eyes and all you could do was slightly shake your head in response to her question, she quickly moved to your side and held your head to her chest, as she rubbed your back, “I’m here for you Bebita okay, you can stay with me for international break and for as long as you want after, I don’t mind at all, I’ll take care of you, it will be okay, you will get through this.”
____
You wake up from surgery and can hear your sister’s voice, saying something about getting on a plane, the words I’ll just miss international break cause you to return to reality and speak up ever so quickly. 
“No Leah, you aren’t giving up international break. Go, I will not let you not go. I will call Sarina personally if I need to. Alexia said she would look after me and that I could stay with her for as long as I want, even once Lucy and Kiera come back, I will be fine.” Alexia smiled and took Leah off speaker but kept talking, you fell asleep again.
“I went to help Kiera and Lucy pack for you and got you some clothes to wear, they’re going to discharge you soon,” Alexia told you as she walked into the room, noticing you were awake again, you nod at her.
“Do you want help getting change?”
“Um, maybe” you said hesitantly. She just kindly smiled as she grabbed a pair of your shorts from the bag, carefully placing your casted leg in before you helped put your good leg in, she pulled them up to your knees and you did the rest.
“Put this on, I’ll turn around,” she said as she handed you a crop top, she was sifting for something in the bag while you put on the crop top.
She turned back around when you told her you were done, hiding whatever she was trying to find in the bag behind her back, before looking at you with a grin “I thought you might want this one today,” she said as she held up an arsenal hoodie for you to wear, it wasn’t just any arsenal hoodie though, it was your special number 6 hoodie that Leah had given you when you left, it was her favourite one too. You smiled gratefully at her, feeling very loved and taken care of in that moment. Mapi and Ingrid then walked in ready to take you home, Alexia sat in the back seat with you, she held your hand the whole ride.
Alexia’s house was large and quite fancy, Mapi and Ingrid led the way as Alexia stayed behind you making sure you didn’t fall behind, she helped you up the stairs and all three girls help get your situated in the spare room, placing anything you may want within reach, before they left, leaving you to sleep.
____
You woke up and needed to pee, you shuffled to the side of the bed, and carefully reached for your crutches, you brought them to your side, before going to take one in either hand to stand up. You haven’t didn’t have as stable a grip on them as you thought, and then went crashing to the ground, hitting your cast causing a wave of pain to flow through your ankle and a wave of tears to fall from your eyes. You then heard the sound of panicked rushed footsteps approaching before your door was flung open.
“Bebita, what happened?” Alexia said as she rushed to your side, bending down so she was level with you.
“I tried to get up and go to the toilet, but my crutch fell and hit my cast. I’m sorry”
“There is nothing to be sorry for Bebita, do you want me to help you to the bathroom,” you nod embarrassed. “Okay,” she said as she picked up the crutches and leant them against the wall, then placed her hands under your arms before she helped you stand up and handed you your crutches, she followed close behind you as you slowly made your way to the bathroom, and stood by the door encase you need her help. 
“Ale,” you shyly said. “Sí,” she replied cautiously. “Could you maybe please possibly help me stand while I wash my hands, and maybe also please flush.” 
“Of course, Bebita, do you want me to come in now?” 
“Yes please” you felt embarrassed needing help to do such simple tasks but Alexia was being super sweet, a side of her that you had always been met by, she was very kind to all your teammates and cared for them all, but there was something extra soft about how she acted towards you, always giving you that little bit extra. The team clearly could see that she held a soft spot in her heart for you. Some thought (cough cough Mapi) it might be because you remind her of her younger self and she was not welcomed with much kindness, love and understanding, meaning she would always push herself too far and she didn't want this for you, however others thought she just saw you as a little sister more so than a younger teammate, either way you didn't mind.
“Would you like to come downstairs and sit on the couch for a bit? I think Olga is making some food if you want. But only if you feel up to it and want to, of course.”
“Um, yes please” she nodded her head and walked with you to the top of the stairs, you looked down them, and they suddenly looked very daunting, and seemed like a mammoth task, maybe you just wanted to stay upstairs after all.
“Do you want me to carry you down?” it was as if she could read your mind, you nodded hesitantly before she picked you up and carried you downstairs, you leant against the wall as she quickly went up and got your crutches.
“Hauria de trobar que el nostre joc de crosses faria la vida més fàcil” (I should find our set of crutches, would make life easier) she mumbled to herself as she walked down the stairs.
“Yes, it would,” you said as you smirked at her. She was caught off guard, surprised at how quick you were able to interpret her Catalan, she had been teaching you for only a short while.
“Very good Bebita, go sit on the couch, I’ll just go get some things for you.”
You made your way into the living room, to find that the corner seat of the couch had been set up for you, there were many pillows, some blankets and even your plush ladybug, that the arsenal team got for you, you barely ever had it out and had only ever spoken to Alexia about it once, you felt warm inside knowing that alexia really truly did care about you. As you sat on the couch you noticed that on the coffee table there was a bottle of pain meds, a sick bowl, and a sheet with instructions on it, some parts were highlighted. You picked up the sheet and saw that the first highlighted section said that the pain meds may cause nausea and vomiting, which explained the sick bowl, there were also lots of other boring things you couldn’t be bothered to read.
Alexia came back with your apple ecosystem, placing it down on the coffee table, before she quickly rushed off to the kitchen with your water bottle. You heard her ask Olga if she needed help while she was in there who said no. She came back with your full water bottle. “Ale, can you sit with me please?” you asked her, as she looked like she was about to go away again, she smiled kindly and sat down next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder as you lent into her side, she placed one of her arms around you.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, she didn’t respond but placed a kiss on top of your head.
A few minutes later Olga brought you over a bowl of Paella, one of your new found favourite dishes. Alexia informed you that you needed to try and eat all of it so you could take your pain meds, that tasking wasn't going to be a difficult one. You were quite lively the first 15 minutes after dinner, however after 15 minutes you had quietened down, you lent into Alexia’s side, “Ale, I feel sick.”
“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Or do you just feel bad?”
“I don’t know,” you responded, sounding like you might cry, before you pushed your face into her side. Olga got up and placed the sick bowl and your water bottle next to Alexia on the couch, Alexia said a quiet thank you to her before she walked into the office. 
“That’s okay, do you want to lie down?” you shook your head, she felt the slight moment against her side, “just let me know if you want or need anything okay” you just hummed in response.
Another 15 minutes had passed, with every minute you felt increasing bad, to the point that you thought you might actually be sick, so you sat up, and Alexia saw your expression out the corner of her eye, quickly grabbed the sick bowl before saying “It’s okay Bebita, if you need to be sick, be sick, it’s okay” and after a minute of deep breaths your started to loose the contents of your stomach. Alexia rubbed your back the whole time.
“’m sorry” you said, as small tears slowly rolled down your cheeks.
“It’s okay Bebita, it's not your fault. Do you feel better now?” she said as she still rubbed your back, holding the sick bowl still encase you needed to be sick. “I guess,”
Olga had heard the commotion from the office and had walked in with two wash clothes, she handed one to you and handed one to Alexia whilst she took the sick bowl from her, you wiped your face with the cloth before Olga took it back, you drank some water before you decided to lie down, resting your head in Alexia’s lap. Alexia put the cool wet washcloth Olga had handed her on the back of your neck and you hummed, the coolness feeling nice.
You fell asleep pretty quickly, Alexia decided not to move you, as it would be difficult but also because the wood floors would be a lot easier to clean than the carpet if you happened to suddenly be sick again during the night. So she shifted her position to lay behind you on her side, she wrapped her arm around you and pulled you closer, keeping her arm there so you didn't roll off the couch during the night. It was quite a large couch though so the chances of that were low.
Olga walked into the living room to suggest it was bedtime, when she saw the both of you sleeping, Alexia hugging you and you hugging your lady bug. Olga quickly took a photo to send to Leah before she turned the lamp on and the main light off, and went upstairs to her bed to sleep.
____
It was the night before the girls would return from international break, you were very much enjoying living with Alexia and Olga, and the dynamic seemed more free flowing than at Lucy and Kiera’s so you decided to jump the gun and ask Alexia if you could move in.
“Ale, you know how you said I could stay as long as I wanted, and how when I first came you offered for me to live with you? Um, well, I was just wondering if that offer still stands.”
“You want to move in?” She asked, checking that she understood you right.
“Um, well yeah, I think, only if that is okay with you and Olga of course, and you can say no.”
“Of course you can Bebita, I would love that.” She said before she pulled you in for a big hug.
561 notes · View notes
alessiasfreckles · 2 months
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Advantage (Leah Williamson x reader)
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After colliding with another player, you have a concussion and have to stay home. Leah volunteers to look after you.
warnings: injury / concussion, sick, very mild angst if you squint
A/N: based off this request! I hope you like it! also any doctors pls don't come for me i've never had a concussion idk what the recovery looks like. part 2 here!
-----
The crowd went silent as your body fell limply to the ground. The game had been going so well up until that point, you were 3-0 up, and you were racing towards the goal with the ball high in the air, your eyes never leaving it as you jumped up to hit it with your head. That was all you could remember. Your teammates rushed towards you, the ball lying forgotten on the grass as the ref ran over. 
“Shit, she’s not moving,” Katie exclaimed, turning around to flag down the medics who were already making their way across the pitch. “Get over here, she needs help, now!”
Leah was knelt down by your side, careful not to touch you in case it was something serious, like a back or neck injury. “It’s going to be okay, y/n,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. She was mostly saying it to calm her own nerves, trying to convince herself you were okay.
“What happened?” Lotte asked Alessia, who was stood anxiously chewing her lip. 
“I’m not sure, I- I was so focused on the ball as well,” she said, feeling guilty for not paying better attention. “She jumped up for the ball and the defender, fuck, what’s her name, the big one, went for it as well, they must have hit heads.” 
Everyone was gathered around you like a protective wall, guarding you from the cameras and the crowd, who were talking quietly amongst themselves, worry rippling through the stadium. The medics carefully moved your limp body onto the stretcher, and the last view most of the girls on the field had of you was your body being carried away. 
Your eyes fluttered open to see the overhead lights of the hallway as the medics carried you towards an ambulance waiting outside. “What’s- what’s going on?” you asked, groaning slightly.
“You’ve had a head injury, y/n,” one of the medics told you gently. “You have to go to the hospital to be checked for a concussion.”
“Oh,” you said weakly, “okay.”
---
The hospital released you after keeping you in for observation for a few hours, determining that whilst you had a concussion, it was only a mild one. The team doctor drove you home, telling you to rest up and make sure to drink lots of fluids. You were surprised to see the lights on in your house, when you pulled up, but brushed it off thinking that maybe you’d forgotten to turn them off that morning. 
When you opened the door, however, you were surprised to find Leah, Beth, Viv, and Katie sat on your sofa. 
“Y/n!” Leah exclaimed, standing up quickly and rushing over to give you a hug. “How are you feeling? Thank god you’re okay.” 
“Remember, Lee, don’t crowd her,” Katie said with a grin, but she couldn’t hide the concern on her face. 
“How are you feeling?” Beth asked. “Jonas told us that they said it’s a concussion, but not too bad, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” you said weakly, with a smile. “yeah, I’m okay, mostly. But, um, what are you guys doing here?”
“Oh!” Leah blushed. “Well, we thought someone should be here, so you’re not just home alone, and we all wanted to make sure you were okay- well, the whole team did, obviously, but we thought it’d be better if it was just a few of us so we weren’t crowding you!”
“That’s really thoughtful, thank you,” you said, stomach fluttering at the thought of Leah being so worried about you. “The doctor did say that it’d be better for someone to be here tonight and tomorrow. Sorry, I know it’s our day off, so everyone probably has plans, but-”
“Don’t be silly, y/n!” Leah said quickly, and behind her, Beth and Viv shot each other a knowing look. “We’re all happy to look after you. I can stay, at least tonight.”
“Thank you,” you smiled warmly, before you were hit with a wave of nausea. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick-” 
You clapped a hand over your mouth as Katie grabbed a bowl they’d put nearby and quickly put it in front of you. Leah held your hair back and rubbed a hand on your back as you threw up, and you grimaced.
“Ugh, ‘m sorry, that was gross,” you said weakly. 
“Here, have some water,” Viv said, holding a glass. You took it gratefully as Katie stood up. 
“I’m sorry, chick, I’m going to have to head out,” she said apologetically, looking slightly queasy herself. “You know I can’t handle sick. But I’ll come round tomorrow to check on ya, with some of the other girls?”
You nodded, feeling your head start to pound. “No worries, thank you for being here. I’m starting to feel pretty tired, actually, and my head is killing me, so I think I might just go to sleep.”
Beth and Viv stood up as well, both hugging you before saying their goodbyes. And then it was just you and Leah. 
“Hey, um, what actually happened, on the pitch?” you asked her. “I don’t really remember much. The doctor said that’s normal, but it’s weird, not being able to remember.”
“Well, it was the 39th minute, I think,” she began, frowning, and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she even knew the exact minute. “You were running for the ball, and you went to header it, but that big defender from the other team was going for it too and their head hit yours. Then, well, you just… fell to the ground.”
“Oh,” you said quietly. “Was the other player okay?”
“She was bleeding a bit, a cut on their head, but she was fine other than that.”
“That’s good. I’m… sorry,” you told her, and she looked confused.
“Sorry for what?” 
“For not paying more attention. I should have seen the other player-” you started, and she cut you off with a vehement shake of her head.
“Absolutely not, y/n, don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” she said.
You nodded, still feeling somewhat guilty, but too tired to argue. Leah chuckled as you let out a big yawn. “Bed?” she asked. “For you, I mean. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“What? Don’t be silly,” you told her, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “There’s plenty of space in my bed.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “Right then, sleepy head. Did the doctor say anything about sleeping, or anything we should watch out for?”
“Um, just that it’s important that I rest a lot, I think,” you frowned, suddenly not sure. “I don’t really remember. Oh, I think she gave me some paper with information on it.”
You found the info sheet in your bag and showed it to Leah, who read through it quickly, nodding. “Well, let’s get you to bed.”
It wasn’t the first time you and the captain had shared a bed. After all, the team was like a family, people sharing beds all the time when you went away or slept over at someone’s house. Still, if you weren’t so tired, you probably would have been more nervous about the idea of sleeping so close to Leah, who you’d been harbouring a crush on for a while now. As it was, you fell asleep fairly quickly, exhausted from the day’s excitement. Leah however, still worried about you, laid awake for a while, thoughts racing. She listened to your slow, steady breathing as she scrolled on her phone, first googling ‘recovery from concussion’ and ‘what to do when someone has a concussion’, despite the fact that she knew full well what the recovery for a concussion looked like from having had one herself just a couple years before. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about you.
“Lee?” you groaned, rolling over in bed as the sun shone through your curtains. “What’re you doing here? Fuck, it’s so bright. Ugh, my head.”
“Oops, yeah,” she said, quickly closing the curtains a little more and dimming the bright morning light. Smiling at you, she sat back down on an armchair in your bedroom, her laptop balanced on the armrest. “Sorry about that, I forgot. Anyway, morning sleepyhead! I slept over, remember? To keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, yeah, right” you mumbled, pressing a hand to the side of your head and wincing in pain. 
“Here,” Leah said, jumping up and picking up a glass of water and some pain medicine she’d put on the bedside table. “Take this, it should help your head.”
You nodded, taking it from her gratefully. 
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“M’ head hurts. And I feel a bit weird. Head feels fuzzy,” you said, before sitting up. “Wait, what day is it? Do we have training? We’re going to be late!” 
You stood up quickly, grabbing onto the bedpost as your head started swimming. 
“Woah there!” she put her hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back onto the bed. “Today is Monday, we don’t have training, remember? We played yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah,” you say, frowning. “I forgot.”
“That’s okay,” she told you. “It’s normal to be a bit confused after a concussion. My brain felt so fuzzy after mine.”
You nodded. “Yeah, fuzzy is a good word to describe it. Wait, you were here when I got home, right? How did you get in?” 
“I have a key, remember?” she said with a laugh. You’d given her a copy of your key at some point after you started hanging out more outside of training. It came in handy when you forgot your own key, which happened more often than you’d like to admit. “Speaking of, some of the girls are going to come over later, if that’s okay? Or do you want to rest a bit more?”
“Um, I think I'll rest more for now, but it’d be nice to see them later?” you asked, still feeling tired despite having slept in.
“Of course,” Leah said, smiling warmly. “Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind, but I can come back later too, if you want? Or, I mean, I don’t have to come back at all, if you’re sick of me already.” she teased, her voice confident but a hint of worry behind her voice. 
“Oh, if you have something you have to do, that’s okay, you can leave,” you told her, feeling guilty that she was spending her day off looking after you. 
“I don’t have anything to do!” she quickly said. “But, I might do some shopping? I had a look in the kitchen last night and honestly, y/n, I don’t know how you survive. All you had in was some milk, a half empty jar of pesto, and some bread.”
“Oops,” you smiled lazily, the pain medicine starting to kick in. You couldn’t remember what the doctor said it was exactly, but it was strong. “I’ll be okay whilst you go shopping, Lee. I can handle myself!”
She raised an eyebrow at you and laughed. “Yeah, okay hun. Look, I’ll be back in half an hour, an hour tops, okay?”
----
True to her word, 45 minutes later the front door opened. You had slowly made your way over to the sofa after she left, planning on putting some TV on but had ended up falling asleep. Your eyes opened to the sound of the key in the lock, and when Leah came through the door carrying multiple shopping bags you smiled widely.
“LeeLee!!” you beamed, rubbing your eyes sleepily. Oh yeah, the pain meds had definitely kicked in. 
“I see the pain meds have kicked in,” she said with a grin, and you gasped.
“OMG, that’s what I just said! Well, in my head. Said in my head. Ha, that rhymes,” you chuckled to yourself, before getting distracted by how many bags Leah was carrying. It was at least three. 
She laughed. “Is that right?”
You nodded seriously, sitting up. “Yep. Anyway, look at all those bags! You must have bought soo much. And you’re carrying it all! You’re so strong,” you swooned, and her cheeks had a slight pink tinge to them.
“Wow, those pain meds must be strong. They’ve turned you into a right little loopy Lou,” she said as she carried the shopping through to the kitchen.
“Loopy Lou, loopy Lou,” you repeated quietly a few times. “Huh. That’s fun to say.”
“How are you feeling?” Leah asked as she came back, sitting down next to you on the sofa.
“Good,” you said, drawing out the word. 
“Any nausea, any pain?” 
“Hmm, nope! Actually, head hurts a bit. Right here,” you said, poking the lump on the side of your head. “Ow.”
“Yeah, that’d be where you knocked heads,” she said, carefully brushing your hand away from the sizeable lump, and you blushed when her fingers touched yours.
“You’re so pretty, Lee,” you sighed, a dopey smile on your face, and Leah let out a surprised laugh. “And your hands are so nice.”
She raised an eyebrow, curious to hear what else you had to say, but not wanting to push it. “Is that right?” she asked, her voice light. 
“Yup,” you nodded, trying to make your face look more serious, but you got the feeling that it wasn’t working. “So pretty.”
“Okay, y/n,” she laughed, but the flush on her cheeks was undeniable. 
“You’re blushing!” you exclaimed gleefully, poking her dimple with an outstretched finger. “You’re so cute!”
She batted your hand away playfully, still blushing. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the cute one,” she said, not looking directly at you, like she was scared of your reaction. 
“Me?” you gasped dramatically. “You think I’m cute?” 
“Sure do,” she looked back at you and smiled, a hint of relief in her eyes. “But I’m guessing you won’t remember any of this by tomorrow.”
“Oh,” you pouted. “But I like that you think I’m cute.” 
“You do?” 
“Yeah!” you nodded emphatically, then stopped quickly, wincing at the throbbing in your head. “Oof, ouch. That was a bad idea. Can I have some more pain meds?”
“Uh, yeah, I’ll get them,” Leah said, standing up. Despite her excitement at learning that apparently you felt the same way she did, she felt a twinge of guilt, a voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was taking advantage of the state that you were in. 
“Thanks, LeeLee!” you beamed when she brought you some meds and a glass of water. “You’re the best.”
“Haha, yeah,” she said, shuffling awkwardly. “Um, look, y/n, I’m going to go, if that’s okay? Katie and some of the others will come over in a bit to check on you.”
“Oh, okay,” you said, frowning, and within a few minutes Leah had packed her things and left. 
---------
A week later you were almost back to normal. Your head still hurt a little occasionally, and you preferred to wear sunglasses when up and about, still a little sensitive to bright lights, but the lump on the side of your head had almost disappeared. You’d spent the week recovering at home, Leah by your side for the first day and girls from the team coming by after training every day since. Leah had pulled back somewhat after that first day, and you weren’t really sure why, though you had the feeling that maybe you’d said something stupid when you were on the particularly strong pain meds you’d been given.  
You’d been instructed to come back to the training grounds so that the team doctor could give you a check up and you were looking forward to being back, even if you weren’t officially back yet. You were also hoping to see Leah. The checkup didn’t take long, the doctor declaring that you could come back and slowly start training again the next day, but to take the rest of the day off. You didn’t see any of your teammates on your way to the doctor’s office, and figured that they were outside on the training pitch, which was fair enough, but you were still a little disappointed. 
You left the doctors office and started to make your way to the car park, when the door to one of the changing rooms opened and someone came out, almost knocking into you. 
“Shit, sorr-,” they said, holding out a hand to steady you, when you both looked up at the same time. “Y/n! Hi!”
“Hey,” you said softly, looking at Leah. You still felt like things were weird, but you didn’t know why. 
“Did you just have your checkup? What did they say?” she asked, and whilst her excitement at seeing you felt genuine, you couldn’t shake the sensation that something was off. 
“Oh, that I’m looking good!” you told her, debating whether or not to say anything. “Yeah, they said I can come back tomorrow. Not, like, full steam ahead, obviously, but I can slowly start training again.”
“That’s great!” she said, and then bit her lip. “Um, I should probably get going.”
“Wait-” you started as she began to turn away, and she looked at you with wide eyes. “I, um, did something happen? Did I do something? I feel like you’re upset with me, or not upset but, I don’t know. Something seems wrong.”
“I’m not upset with you,” she frowned.
“Then what’s going on? Please, talk to me, Leah,” you asked, your stomach tying itself in knots.
She sighed. “Do you remember much from Monday?”
“Not really, I guess. I vaguely remember you being there, and then some of the girls being there, but that’s kind of it,” you said, and knocked on the side of your head, smiling wryly. “A concussion and strong-ass painkillers will do that to you.”
She let out a forced laugh and you felt your stomach churn. Oh god, had you embarrassed yourself by telling her about your crush? “Why, did something happen? Did I say something?”
“Kind of,” she said, not meeting your eyes. She thought about lying but had a feeling that you’d know if she did. “You, uh, called me pretty. A few times. And cute. And, um, said that I had nice hands.”
“Oh,” you said in a whisper, desperately fighting the urge to run and hide. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no!” she interjected. “Shit, sorry, no, that’s not what I, uh. No, please don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? Why have you been avoiding me then?”
“It’s my fault,” she started, and sighed again. “Look, I said some stuff back, okay? And it wasn’t professional or even just okay of me to do that, whilst you were in the state you were in.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“I, well, I might have said that you were the cute one.”
“Okay…,” you said slowly, waiting for the rest. When nothing came, you let out a laugh. “Wait, that’s it? You’ve been avoiding me because I told you I think you’re cute, and you said it back?”
She shuffled her feet, looking down. “Well, I didn’t want to be taking advantage of you!” she protested, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“I hardly think that counts as taking advantage of me,” you lightly countered, stepping closer to her, emboldened by her confession. “So, you think I’m cute, huh?”
“So, you think I’m pretty, and cute, and have nice hands, huh?” Leah retorted, the guilt and worry she had been feeling fading away.
“Sure do, Williamson,” you smirked, taking another step towards her, figuring that you’d already told her once so you might as well admit to it. Now you were only a few inches away from her, and as you glanced at her lips and back up to her eyes, she reached up a hand to cup your cheek. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss against your lips, and you tried very hard to ignore the way your stomach felt like it was flipping, focusing on the way her lips felt against yours, something you’d spent so long imagining. 
“You know,” she said as she broke away, smiling teasingly. “Last week you kept calling me LeeLee, not Williamson.”
603 notes · View notes
softhairedhotch · 5 months
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AHHHH FIRST FIC OF COMFORTEMBER YEAHHHH >:D comfortember day one: safe aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader after having a rough night out, you call aaron and he rushes to find you immediately. he fixes you up and the two of you finally admit how you feel about each other. word count: 1.5k warnings/content: mentions of fighting and alcohol but mostly fluff.
comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3 <3
you make me feel safe
Aaron wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing beside him. It gets to the fourth or fifth ring by the time he grabs it and anxiety bubbles low in his gut when he realises it’s you calling at almost three in the morning. Answering the phone, he immediately asks, “Is everything alright?”
“No.”
He’s up and out of bed instantly, throwing on the first shirt he finds and the closest shoes to the bed. “Tell me where you are.”
“I’m at, uh, I don’t, I’m… somewhere. My mind is all over the place.”
Aaron’s heart hammers widely in his chest. “Somewhere? Can you look around for me and see if you recognise something? Anything?”
“Okay,” you reply, voice shaky. After a few moments, you clear your throat. “I’m outside the bar we all went to a few weeks ago.”
“The Tipsy Ship? The one closest to work?” 
“Y-yeah, yeah.”
Aaron grabs his keys and runs out of his house, not even thinking about locking the door as he runs toward his car. Jack is sleeping over at JJ's; the house will be fine unattended for now. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”
“I think so.”
“You think–” Aaron stops to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before shoving his phone into its holder and slamming his car door shut. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”
“Can you stay on the line with me?”
“Of course.”
***
When Aaron reaches the bar, his heart breaks at the sight of you standing alone outside. He tenses up once he notices that, not only are you alone, but dry blood covers your face, there’s a large bruise forming on your cheek, and the knuckles of your dominant hand are cracked and bloody. “God,” he mutters, running straight for you and grabbing you by the shoulders. He can smell an overpowering scent of alcohol on you and he winces. “What happened? Where’s the bastard that did this to you?”
You point toward an ambulance down the road. “The coward freaked out when I punched him back and thought he needed medical attention. Most they’re gonna diagnose him with is Dumbassery and Stupid Prick Disease.” You look back at Aaron and weakly smile. “And maybe a concussion.”
Aaron can’t help it, he laughs. “At least you haven't lost your sense of humour. But let's get you home and cleaned up, alright?” 
“Can I go to yours? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”
He smiles. “Of course you can.”
***
Aaron holds a wet cloth to your face, reaching out to grab your chin between his fingers gently when you flinch away. “Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s cold, is all.”
“Sorry,” he repeats, gently dabbing away the dried blood under your nose and the corner of your lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“I got into a fight.”
“I can see that.”
You shrug, stumbling on your feet at the movement. Aaron gently grabs you by your elbow and shuffles you toward the kitchen counter so that you’re leaning against it for support. Once you’re stable, he begins to dab the other side of the cloth over your knuckles. “It was stupid, really.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I know,” you sigh. It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch Aaron continue to clean up the blood. “He… the guy who punched me… I was on a date with him.” Aaron tenses. “And he kept buying me drinks and told me I had to drink them. I did because, well, free drinks, y’know?” You sigh and shake your head again, letting out a groan when it results in pain. “So stupid of me.”
“Hey, none of that. You’re not stupid.”
“Whatever you say. Anyway, I think he was trying to make sure I was drunk enough so that he could take me home without much complaint. I don’t know. I refused because I really wasn’t in the, uh, mood, and the night was a bust anyway, and he started… tryna touch me, grab me and all that, his hands were everywhere and I didn’t want them to be and…” You stop to take a few deep breaths, feeling sick at the thought of what could have happened. Aaron feels anger rip through his veins. “Anyway, he ended up punching me and I guess he wasn’t expecting me to punch back.”
Aaron grits his teeth. "Twice as hard, yeah?" 
"Twice as hard," you grin. 
“Good. That’s what I expect to hear.”
You tilt your head at him, trying to read his expression. “You’re not mad at me?”
Confused, his eyes meet yours. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, watching as his large hand moves over yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your skin. “I woke you up.”
“You woke– You– That’s what you’re worried about?” He gives you a fond look. “Yes, you woke me up. But I’m glad you did. Thank you for calling me. And for trusting me to help you.”
“I don’t think I trust anyone more than I trust you.”
Aaron’s hand stills as the words sink in. When he looks up at you, he notices that you’re staring at him with so much love that his breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t been looked at like that in… he can’t even remember. But when he thinks about it, eyes never leaving yours as you blink innocently at him, not understanding his revelation at that moment, he realises it’s the way you’ve always looked at him. With complete and utter adoration. 
As if he hung the moon and the stars.
“Oh,” is all he can get out.
“Oh?” 
“Yeah. Oh.”
Your face falls and he feels guilt grow deep in his gut. “You don’t trust me back?”
“What? I never said that.” He steps closer, moving a hand to your shoulder and looking into your eyes. “Of course I trust you. More than most people. More than anyone else, really.”
“Really?”
His eyes search yours and he nods firmly, squeezing your shoulder. “Really.”
You look all over his face before looking down at his lips, licking your own as your mouth immediately goes dry. “I didn't want… I… I didn't go home with that guy because of, uh, well, you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you... when I was with him.”
Aaron hums as his gaze drops to your lips. “That’s why I don’t go on dates.”
“Hm?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He inches closer, moving a warm hand up to cup your cheek. “Can I kiss y–"
“Yea–"
And your lips are pressed together before either of you can finish. The kiss is soft, sweet, gentle, and full of so much raw emotion that it’s almost suffocating (in the best way). Aaron moves his lips against yours desperately, holding your face in his large calloused hands as if you might break at any moment, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. The moment your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, though, he pulls back with a heavy sigh. “Shit, you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m totally taking advantage of you and–”
“Aaron.”
“I should know better and–”
“Aaron!”
“You should feel safe here–”
You press your lips against his again, effectively shutting him up. It’s a much shorter kiss this time, but not any less enjoyable. “I do feel safe, Aaron. Here, with you.”
“You do?”
“Of course. You make me feel safe; you always have.”
He visibly relaxes and pulls you into a hug. “So have you.” He sighs against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I like being with you.”
“I like being with you too, Aaron.”
He smiles against you and holds you for a moment more before pulling back, hands still wrapped around you. His heart breaks at the sight of the dark bruise forming on your face and he leans forward to press a tender kiss against the skin, careful not to hurt you in any way. “I wonder how long we’ve liked each other.”
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I think.” 
Aaron’s breath hitches at the admission. “You’re in love with me?”
You tilt your head at him, fighting back a smile. “Did I not make that obvious enough?”
“I… didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“Well, get them up, Hotchner, because I’m in love with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Aaron’s face softens and he presses a kiss to your cheek, sighing in relief. “I’m in love with you, too.” He runs his hands lovingly over your back. “Now let’s get you changed into some comfortable clothes and into bed, yeah? It seems like we have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”
“Can I sleep in your bed with you?” 
He presses another kiss to your cheek. “There’s no other place I’d rather you be, sweetheart.”
tag list: @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @hotchs-big-hands @citrusiove @sillyhotchsgirl
lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future fics
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formulapai · 4 months
Note
hi! would you consider writing a lando norris x reader about after his crash this weekend? ofc, don't feel obligated if you don't want to❤️🥰
of course love, thank you !!! so glad he’s ok :( 🧡
VIVA LAS VEGAS…NOT!
a lando norris fluff scenario🧡
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scenario: see request :)
warning: crash, hospital
pai’s words: I watch the races in French or German so some terms MIGHT be wrong, I have a pretty good knowledge of f1 even in English thanks to my father BUT yeah, some things might be a little off :/ don’t hesitate to correct me 🧡
also, a little SHORT but I’m still sick 😀😀
“YELLOW FLAG ! SAFETY CAR !”
Time stops for a moment as you try to find your breath, try to find something to hold on to. The crash happened fast, unpredictable and merciless, as Lando lost control of his monospace and nearly took Oscar’s with him.
“Lando, are you ok?”
The next seconds are long and antagonizing as his engineer tries to get a response out of him. Everyone waits with batted breaths, desperately wanting to hear his voice.
“Lando, are you ok ?”
Jose tries again, agitated at the thought of his driver being unconscious or unable to answer due to the severity of the crash.
“Yeah, I’m good”
His pained groans are not ignored as everyone knows he’s most likely not ok and just trying to reassure his team, and you. The medical car is now on the scene, Lando being escorted out of his car and in with the medics. He’s going to be driven to the medical center for checkups, an important must.
“Want to go with him ? I’ll take you there, sweetie”
Some woman, that you absolutely know but can’t remember with your mind racing, smiles at you. Everyone knows about the two of you, having made your relationship public back in 2019, so it’s no surprise she’s asking you this. You don’t know the way to the medical center, not yet familiar with this circuit, so you thankfully agree.
“He’s going to be fine, he’s tougher than that. When we say he’s hardheaded, we also mean this”
She easily laughs, doing her best to decrease the tension on your shoulders, and it works. Yes, he’s most likely fine, probably bruised, maybe even with a concussion, but fine. You believe it, you have to.
“I’ll leave you here, alright ? He’s getting checked out but you can still knock”
You nod and thank her softly, deeply grateful for Lando’s team and their ever-lasting kindness. You do as told, knock sharply on the door and wait for a sign to go in. Someone opens the door, a medical staff probably, and they usher you inside, your lover lying on the bed in the middle of the room, still surrounded by a doctor. He looks fine, at least he doesn’t have a missing leg or something.
“Hi, Y/N right ? You can sit next to the bed, we’re just finishing some checkups”
Lando is already staring at you with a boyish grin as you take a seat, his hand finding yours in a matter of seconds. He still hasn’t said a word but it’s alright with you, he doesn’t need to say anything as long as you know he’s okay.
“Mr. Norris, I think it’s best if you are taken to the hospital, only to do a scanner for now. It seems as if you may have a minor concussion, we have to check just in case.”
At that, Lando sighs. He doesn’t like hospital, no one really does, and he’s not over the moon at the prospect of having to spend time there. You squeeze his hand, giving him all the strength you can mutter so he knows he’s not alone, you’re there, with him through it all.
“I mean, I don’t really have a say in this, right?”
The Brit tries to joke wryly, closing his eyes. Someone new appears in the room, bringing some paperwork with him, making sure everything is ready before accompanying your boyfriend to an ambulance. You can’t come with him, so you’re extremely relieved when Jon joins you in front of the center and tells you he’s driving you there. Being his trainer, Jon is naturally close to Lando and by proxy, to you. The both of you go through security, towards the car, and drive to the nearest hospital where Lando arrived minutes earlier. He’s already in the scanner room when you arrive, so you sit and wait for him, consuming probably too much coffee under the friendly gaze of the man next to you. Had it been another day, he’d have nagged you for your coffee consumption and how it affected your health, but he knows you need this right now, so he lets you be.
Minutes felt like hours and you thought you were slowly going crazy. He’s not out yet ? Did they find something strange ? Did something happen to him ? A stroke ? Questions just keep haunting your mind as the two of you are left in the waiting room with no news. Surely, they’d have told you if something happened, right ? You know the answer to this, and you keep on repeating that yes, indeed, they’d tell you. Still, worries are clouding your mind, only clearing when the man itself walks, more like prances, towards you. He’s still sporting the wristband, almost showing it off when he stands right in front of you, laughing with Jon about something you’re not bothered to understand. The way you wrap your arms around his torso is instantaneous, instinctive, as you lean forwards and let yourself fall against your boyfriend. This startles a giggle out of him and a brief chuckle from Jon as the two feel all the stress leaving you in an instant, wrapped in Lando’s scent, softly mixed with the infamous hospital scent. His right hand comes to your head, petting your hair as Jon asks him if he wants to go to the hotel or back to the circuit. Of course, he wants to go back to work, you’re not even surprised but still scoff slightly.
“Alright, off we go, lovebirds. I’ve already told Andrea, Oscar finished the race, P10!”
The ride back to the circuit is spent talking about the race, Jon filling the two of you in with the infos he’s got while you were waiting. A tough race, interesting and unexpected, but the drivers fought hard. You know Lando is bummed, rightfully so, but he still manages to congratulate his teammate earnestly once you arrive in McLaren. You wait for the meetings and media things to be done, sitting in a corner with your headphones and some snacks as you watch replays and edits of the race.
Soon enough, you’ll be back at your hotel room, comfortable and safe under the covers, but for now you enjoy the cheery atmosphere of the night and take a sip of your coffee, knowing Jon will undoubtedly annoy you about it tomorrow and already smiling at the thought.
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ddejavvu · 9 months
Note
ok pls i need you tp write this bc i can’t - reader gets into a fight with an unsub and ends up with a nosebleed she doesn’t notice afterward, and hotch tenderly holds her face and wipes it away
if you're interested in hotch holding reader's face to wipe away her nosebleed i'd recommend this lovely story from the equally lovely @luveline, several lines of which i think about daily ("Oh, honey." 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗)
--
You can only breathe easy once the doors to the cop car shut, and the unsub is driven away. He's out of sight and out of mind, and your shoulders sag with the weight of the worries sliding off of them. You're exhausted, and hearing Hotch's voice directing your team members is a welcome sound to your ears that have been ringing with sirens for far too long.
"Dave, you make sure Morgan gets checked out by the EMTs. He is not okay, no matter what he tells you."
"Will do," Rossi nods, wandering over to where Morgan is rubbing at his sore shoulder. Bashing through doors hurts, and you know he's probably feeling a deep ache in his muscles.
"Prentiss, you and JJ head back to the precinct and start filling out your paperwork, Reid can help once you fill him in. And Y/L/N," Hotch turns to you finally, addressing you as the last of the group. But he loses steam, falling silent when he sees you.
You don't know why, and it makes you tense. You're sure you look a sight, sweat-slicked hair and chest heaving from running to capture the unsub, but he's never been one to judge appearances.
After a quick moment of silence, one that seems like he's waiting for the answer to a question he hasn't asked, he speaks: "Come here."
You pause for a moment, but once you register his odd words, the last thing you'd have expected him to say, you race off on unstable footing. You linger a few feet away from him, brows raised cautiously.
"Yes, sir?"
"No come- here." He mumbles, closing the gap between you two so that the toes of his shoes almost bump your own. Your stomach tenses, and he digs into the inside pocket of his windbreaker to retrieve a packet of tissues.
"Sir-?" You ask, but before you can complete any further question, his hand lifts to cradle your jaw. Your chin rests on the side of his pointer finger as he angles your face upwards, towards the light of the moon that you're bathed in.
"Sir," You repeat, breathless this time. He smooths his hand up the side of your jaw, cupping your cheek as he takes a tissue and raises it to your lips.
"Your nose is bleeding," He murmurs, keeping his voice just as soft as your own. Your team members have dispersed, but if Morgan and Rossi glance over, they'll see the hottest gossip the BAU has had in years.
"Did you get hit?" Hotch asks, eyes focused on the space between your lip and your nose. The bridge of your nose wrinkles slightly as he presses the tissue gently into your nostril, wedging it tightly so that the blood can't escape again.
"No," You want to shake your head, but Hotch is holding it, so you can only speak. Your voice is weak, and muffled slightly by the press of the tissue against your lip.
"Do you usually get nosebleeds?" He presses, brows furrowing.
"No." You repeat, "Uh, maybe just- just adrenaline. Or something."
"Alright," Hotch nods, withdrawing the tissue from your face. It's stained crimson and it leaves a miniscule stain on his hand, something you'll be embarrassed about until the end of time. He hands it off to you and you stuff it back over your face, desperate to hide your flustered expression.
"Thank you, sir." You speak, voice nasally from the tissue obstruction.
He nods, tilting his head sideways towards the ambulance on duty, "I think we should get you checked out. Just in case, I know you said it wasn't an injury. But it's hard remembering what happened after the fact, and I'd rather be safe than sorry."
"Um- okay." You agree, easier than you normally would. You're fine, you know you are, but Hotch just had his hands all over your face, so you might be on the verge of a heart attack, and medical attention when it happens would be ideal.
"Come on," He starts walking when you don't, his large hand against the small of your back to urge you forwards. Your feet crunch against twigs, leaves, and dirt alike, but you can't worry about getting them dirty, not when Hotch is guiding you to an ambulance after cupping your cheek.
You're in a haze when you step up to the ambulance, and Hotch answers for you when the EMT raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.
"Agent Y/L/N has a nosebleed." Hotch informs him, nudging you forward still with his large hand, "I just want to make sure they're okay."
"Alright, let's check that out," The EMT nods, leading you over to perch against the open bed of the van, "Agent, are you feeling faint?"
Yes.
"No," You shake your head, moving more freely as you walk away from Hotch, "Um, I'm alright."
Two gloved fingers press into your neck and the EMT's face twists into a frown, "Your heart is beating very fast."
"Adrenaline." You blurt, seeing Hotch's face darken in a concerned frown from where he's listening in. It makes things worse, and you have to look away from him to lie to the EMT, "From- uh, the chase."
The EMT"s face stays pinched in a frown for a moment, but he studies your heaving chest, faraway gaze, and shaky hands, ultimately deciding that you're right.
"I think that's a safe bet. But keep an eye on that nose, if it starts swelling you should get it checked out."
"Will do, thank you." Hotch speaks for you once again, stepping in to walk you towards the SUVs. You're sure he's only being kind, that he's worried about your hazy demeanor, but he's only making it worse.
"I want you to sit down," He orders, but it doesn't feel like one because it's so kind. He offers you the front seat of his car, and you're sure you'll get a teasingly scathing remark from Morgan about it later.
Hotch reaches across you to snag a water bottle from the center console of the car, and you think your breath might never return to your lungs. Maybe you really do need an ambulance, especially when he holds the half-empty bottle out to you.
"I want you to drink this," He watches you take it with shaky hands, "All of it. And we'll get you more back at the precinct. Y/N," He ducks his head slightly to meet your eyes, "Are you sure you're alright?"
Your heart is hammering in your chest, your head is foggy and your ears are ringing with voices telling you to just kiss him already. But you nod instead, raising the bottle to your lips the second after you speak so that you don't have to say more, "Yeah, Hotch. I'm good."
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kirihoon · 11 months
Text
BAKUGOU GETTING HIT WITH A TRUTH QUIRK
because why not 🤷🏻‍♀️
cw: tons of curse words
"Bakugou-san, are you okay?" you ask him. You saw him get hit with a villain's quirk earlier. Though he seems physically fine. Well, relatively. He has more than a few scratches and bruises from the fight. Nothing that'll leave a mark tho. You're still worried of how the quirk might affect him.
"tsk. I'm not fine! I'm hurt!" you stood there shocked at his response. Never in the five years you've known him has he ever answered that way. You've heard him say he was fine while being wheeled into the hospital, stabs all over him.
Bakugou is just as shocked at his answer.
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That isn't what he meant to say! He's not fucking weak! He's the strongest hero, damn it!
But he doesn't have time to ponder this because you quickly move over to him, checking every inch of his body and muttering that he needs to go to the hospital.
"Oy! I said I'm not fine." He meant to say he was fine! He swears! Please don't think he's some weak ass hero who can't handle a few cuts. "Fuck! That isn't what I meant to say!"
At this point, you're freaking the fuck out. How hurt does he have to be to actually admit it? You don't even register you're surroundings. Neither of you notice the villain tied up and smirking at you and Bakugou's little conversation.
"Are you in pain? What can I do? How can I help? I swear it's gonna be okay. Okay? Don't panic, don't fucking panic!" you say in a rushed increasingly higher voice.
You are definitely not panicking, nope. Bakugou's fine. He's a hero. He's a great, strong, and resilient hero. He's going to be okay. He is. You promise yourself that he is. But, but what if?
Your breathing quickens now. This can't be happening. He can't, he can't do this. You haven't even been able to confess your feelings to him. You've been hyping yourself up for a couple months now, ever since you've decided to admit you like him after a few years of silence. He can't not let you at least say it. Selfish bastard.
"Y/n? Are you okay? I know you're cute as fuck when you're worrying about me but you don't have to. I'm going to be okay."
What. The. Fuck. Where the fuck did that come from? Bakugou didn't mean to say that. Well, it is true, he thinks. But all his blood is now rushing to his cheeks. Blush reaching even his ears and neck.
You're no better. You're wide eyes from panic are now due to you being flustered. Okay, calm down Y/n. There has to be a rational reason why a hero waaayyy out of your league is saying you're cute. Maybe he got hit in the head a little too hard? Maybe it was a quirk that makes him lie or damaged his eyesight or something. Yeah, that's probably it.
You say nothing as you turn around and find a medic who could help him. You practically sprint away from him. Your heart is beating too fast. Maybe you should find yourself a medic too.
Bakugou is left there, embarrassed. Oh no. He's an idiot. Y/n ran away. Of course, they don't like him that way. That sweet angel sent by the gods. How could theh ever like a loud, aggressive, and angry man like him?
He needs to explain himself. Maybe he could say it was a joke. But that seems cruel. Maybe he could say he wasn't talking about you. No, that doesn't even make sense. Maybe he could blame Deku. Yeah, that always works. But how could he make it seem like Midoriya's fault.
He ends his inner monologue and decides he should just talk to you. He found you alone near one of the ambulances, looking around.
"Hey, y/n. Let me explain." Okay that's the easy part. Now, for the actual explaining part. He's a mighty hero, he's taken down a shit ton of villains. Why does this seem to be way harder. "The truth is, I like you. I have for a while now. It's true, you're cute when you worry. Especially when it's about me. It's nice to know I matter enough to you for you to actually care if I'm okay."
Huh? That's both of your reactions. Where the fuck did that come from? This time, Bakugou is the one to leave. Embarrassed and scared of your response.
You catch up to him and grab his wrist. "I like you too, Bakugou-san! I thought I never had a chance with you. Please, go on a date with me!" Your puppy dog eyes stare at him, into his soul. You patiently wait for his response despite your growing anxiety. "F-fine! Dumbass. I should have been the one to ask you out." He says, rolling his eyes. Yet, he still couldn't hide the smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes while staring at you.
Six months later, you and Bakugou are happily together. You and him were sorting through a couple criminals' files for a report when you stumble across the incident that kick-started your relationship. Only then did you realize he was hit with a truth quirk.
-----
Bonus:
"What just happened?" A flabbergasted Midoriya asks as he watched the interaction between Bakugou and Y/n.
"I genuinely don't know." Kirishima answers, looking equally shocked.
The villain snickered, "I know what happened~" he says in a teasing tone. The two men look at him, waiting for an explanation.
"I hit him with a truth quirk, he can only say the truth for a couple hours" he says, smirking despite the chains around him.
-----
"Hey, Bakubro! Who's your best and manliest bro in the whole world?" Kirishima asks Bakugou back at the office. Only the two of them and Midoriya are present. They just finished discussing the logistics of the incident.
"What the fuck? Obviously it's you, Shitty Hair!"
"Aw, Bakubro, you're so sweet!"
-----
"Soooo, Kacchan, do you like, only pretend to still hate me?" Midoriya felt guilty for using the villain's quirk but this was just too good to let go.
"Of course, you're my oldest friend and stuck with me through my bullshit. I'll be a damned fool to actually hate you now." Midoriya straight up just bursts into tears.
He's going to kill these two.
-----
a/n: yey finally finished with this. imagine all the questions kaminari would ask him if he found out.
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