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astarionancuntnin · 2 months ago

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Remember Me

summary: you cant make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell, hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. its all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

rating: E

word count: 7k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, act 3 spoilers related to astarion's side quest, mentions of kidnaping and torture, memory loss, blood feeding, vampire bites, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v, The Leg Thing followed by mating press, sweet love making, love confession. full list on ao3

a/n: loosely based on this audio (18+) from OGY.

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Pain.

It’s the first thing that hit you when your consciousness came back to you.

How much everything fucking hurt.

Your entire body felt as if it had gone through the nine Hells, all at once; you could barely find the strength in yourself to get to your feet, let alone push yourself off the ground.

Then it was the disarray when you couldn’t place what had happened for you to feel so awful.

It was as if you had woken up from a long sleep; distant voices in your head, blurry faces merging together when you closed your eyes, and an awful feeling of emptiness, as if you had forgotten something extremely important but you couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how much you thought about it.

Nothing but endless darkness.

As much as you tried to remember your life, anything before this moment, you were met with a dark fog clouding your vision. Your family, your friends — if you even had any — had all vanished from your memory. You think you remember yourself, for the most part, but even that was a stretch; you couldn’t even remember your own bloody name.

You look around you, realising for the first time that you were in a prison cell. The course of events after waking up in this dark cell hadn’t helped; the sudden cold inhabiting you, followed by this man — this monster — barging in without as much as a warning before pushing you face first against the ground and ripping open your shirt, to then torture you as he carved your back with his knife, only to leave as suddenly as he had appeared. Barely a few words exchanged, aside from some mumbling about teaching “him” a lesson, whoever that was, and you were alone once again.

Alone, with nothing but this seething pain in your back from the butchery you had gone through, the hunger digging into your belly, and your blood leaking from your shivering form, pooling around you on the cold, hard floor.

You barely had the time to gather your thoughts when the same man came back barely minutes later to carry you out of your cell and into a larger room — keeping you restrained with some magic that visibly came from his staff — where more people waited.

By the looks of it, you had been right on one thing: this was indeed a dungeon, and you were located in the deepest part of them; this room contained only a round, rock platform, located above an endless, foggy pit.

In the state you were in, you couldn’t catch everything he said as he went on a monologue. Something about powers, freedom; whatever it was, they needed you to achieve it, that was the only thing that was clear from his speech. You couldn’t understand how any of them would follow a maniac like him, but in their eyes you noticed how they listened to his words with as much fear as awe.

Your form was shivering from the cold; you wanted to cover up your top which had been previously ripped off from your body, but it was all in vain: the restraints of his magic kept you in place, and right after his speech, you were sent flying over a designated spot floating above the ground, just like all the six other people that had surrounded you previously.

Your arms remained bound to your sides by whatever spell this monster had cast on you, leaving your chest exposed to the damp, cool air of this dungeon, and your fresh wound stinging evermore at your back.

You remember the panic tightening in your chest when you realised you couldn't escape. You remember the brief relief, hope even, at the sight of a group of adventurers approaching — one of the figures shouting at the man in the middle of the room — followed by explosions and screams. Then the fear settled in when you saw them execute one of the other unfortunate souls magically held floating around this room, one new truth forming in your mind.

They weren’t here to save you.

You would be next. They would kill you. You would die here.

The pressure in your chest grew tighter as you closed your eyes and mourned your life, one you didn’t even remember experiencing, one that — you hope — had been full of adventures, of acquaintances… of love.

This last one must’ve been true. You remember being loved — more so how it felt, even if the feeling seemed so far and long ago. You remember the butterflies in your belly, the fluster in your heart, the heat between your legs; you remember just enough to know that if you died today, at least, you would’ve died as someone who had been loved.

You didn’t expect your feet to touch the cold hard ground once more. You remember falling to your knees, your body exhausted by the abuse it had gone through in just the last few hours. You remember your dry throat when you noticed the butchered corpse in the middle of the room, barely recognizable anymore.

“Gods… what has he done to you?”

But you couldn’t seem to place the face of your saviour. The bloodied, silver curled elf who had rushed to kneel next to you after defeating your captor, who approached you and held your face so carefully.

How those crimson eyes of his had widened in horror when you flinched at his touch and backed away.

Him and his group had killed one of you who stood in this circle, who’s to say he wasn’t here to finish the job? Lure you in with a sweet touch only to snap your head off; you knew better than to let yourself fall for the first man to approach you.

“Darling, it’s over now.” He had said with his voice low, getting back on his feet to approach you as if you were an injured beast, “Just take my hand, we’re getting out of here.”

You didn’t know whether to feel insulted or reassured by his assertiveness, but you remained frozen in place, your eyes switching from the hand extended out to you and his severe look that you reciprocated with a frown to hide your terror.

“Look,” he sneered, “you can either take my hand, come with me out of this hellhole, or rot away in this godsforsaken—”

From behind him, someone from his group called out a name which stopped him mid-sentence just as his tone was rising.

“Astarion.”

A name that felt oddly familiar, despite the void in your memories. It danced beautifully as it echoed across the room and around your mind; there was something about it that just sounded right.

Astarion. A name worthy of being written in the stars, you find yourself thinking, the sound of it bringing you a familiar sense of peace, of security.

Astarion. Maybe if you repeated it enough in your head, something clearer would come up. Maybe, just maybe, then you would remember.

He took a deep breath and continued, which brought you back from your reverie, “I’m quite certain you went through the Hells and back, but for now, I’ll have to ask you to trust me, just as you’ve done in the past. Can you do that for me?”

He extended out his hand once more, this time a request rather than a command, his voice carrying out his concerns, “Can you trust me?”

“Why would I trust someone I’ve just met?” You wanted to ask, but something about the way he asked struck a chord, as if you did know him. As if you knew he spoke true when he said you used to trust him, and you finally accepted the hand he held out to you.

A hand that pulled you to your feet, and guided you out of this dreadful place.

You were given a cloak to cover your shivering form, and you walked along with them back to their camp. Back to this intriguing, yet charming man’s tent, where they all agreed you should rest for the night.

The first thing that hit you when you stepped in was the smell.

You didn’t know what it was exactly, you couldn’t recognize it, but it was intoxicating; it only made your stomach churn more. As the adrenaline of the previous hour settled down, you fell to your knees, grabbing onto your waist as the pain that had been muted came back screaming through your guts.

“Shit—” He rushed down to check on you, with one hand down your back, holding onto you, “Darling, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?! I was tortured, starved off, almost sacrificed for all I know, and I can’t even remember who I fucking am!” Is what you wanted to say, but all you could manage out is a groan in the middle of your sobs.

When you lifted your head, your eyes fell onto the set of messily arranged bottles from where the strong smell came from, and a quick exchange of glances told him everything he needed to know.

“Of course, you’re hungry,” He sighed heavily, "Look, I’ll gladly offer you some from my own reserves — after I’ve taken a look at your wounds.”

You had almost forgotten about them.

You averted your eyes from his gaze, your mind now racing as you expected the worst. You had no way to see what had been done to your back, but the pain you had gone through was a good indicator of how bad it would look.

Met with your silence, he continued, “I need… to see what he’s done to you. Please.”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the dark bottles briefly considering pouncing on them to get a taste as your mouth watered in anticipation, but you reluctantly turned your back to him as you sat with your legs pressed back into your stomach, barely helping mitigate the pain in your stomach.

As you let the cloak fall from your shoulders, you heard nothing but a shaky, deflated sigh behind you. Seconds of silence passed before you considered turning around, but a part of you was terrified of the look you would find on his face.

You finally found the strength to utter your first words.

“Is it… that bad?” Your voice was rough from neglect, as the last time you had used it had been to scream when you received this torture.

You heard him take a deep breath, shaking away the shock that had previously rendered him speechless, “You must’ve already known what he carved away in your back. Hells, I knew before even looking, but seeing it…” he pauses, his tone quieting, “seeing it is another story completely.”

“I… I don’t know,” you muster with a weak voice. It's true, you had no idea, he had carved your damn back, you had no way to see the extent of his torture.

He took a deep breath, shaking away the feelings that had sneaked their way into his voice, “It’s no matter, it’s over now; Cazador is dead. He won’t hurt—” he paused, as if processing the information himself, “Anyone, ever again.”

You turned around to face him this time, “Who’s Cazador?”

He huffed, “I’m glad it was that easy for you to forget about him, but when you’ve suffered under his hand for nearly two centuries, the memories tend to linger.”

You remained silent as you stared at him, just as shocked as you were confused by his words. When he noticed your stare, his face twisted in concern, “Oh shit, you’re serious.”

You nodded silently.

He continued, tentatively, “He was my master, he’s the one we killed back in the dungeons — the one who abducted you, who did this to you. Do you not remember any of this?”

You shook your head slightly, never leaving his gaze.

“Oh dear.” His voice dropped as his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened all at once, “Do you remember anything at all — the absolute, our adventure… Do you remember… me?”

His eyes went back and forth between yours, as if he was searching them for any sign of recognition, looking for you, whoever you were behind those confused, teary eyes. You gave him another shy shake of your head, followed by a single tear coming down your cheek, a tear you weren’t sure why it was shed; whether it was from the loss of yourself, or the mourning of something you didn’t even remember having.

“Gods…” He breathed out heavily as his sight left you, his mind visibly ruminating. “He can’t… He couldn’t have… He…”

His tone suddenly changed as he growled, “That monster.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back at you, “You were with us just yesterday. You were — are this group’s leader. If… If you have no memories of your mortal life then it means…” he looked away, frowning, “He rushed your transformation to replace me in the ritual.”

None of the words he had said made any sense to you, “Transformation?”

He turned back to you to be met with your visible confusion, and he explained further, “Normally, when you’re turned, you need to be drained of your blood and buried six feet underground, before you can crawl out of your tomb to be reborn. This process takes a day, usually, and when you awaken, you are still you, but immortal and bound to your master,” he spat out the last word like it left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

“Now you,” he continues, “you were turned within twelve hours, which would explain why your eyes are only half red, why your fangs haven’t come out yet, and…” his voice quieted down, “why you have no memories of your past. As if the rushed transformation had actually killed this part of you along with your humanity.”

You remained focused on the first thing he had said: your eyes had changed colour?

You hadn’t had the chance to look at yourself since your awakening and if not remembering your name wasn’t anxiety inducing enough, you realised you couldn’t even recall what you looked like.

All of a sudden, panic rushed its way into your heart; you needed to see yourself. You frantically looked around the tent to find anything that could send back your reflection and practically jumped on the pocket mirror when you spotted it nearby Astarion.

Only the mirror was broken. It must’ve been; it reflected nothing.

“If that wasn’t obvious by now, this should’ve clarified things a bit,” he said.

He lowered the mirror you still held in front of you, expecting your image to be reflected eventually, maybe at a different angle, maybe with more light. Maybe another one would, maybe you were just delirious from everything that had happened only today.

“You’re a vampire now. No matter the angle, you’ll never see your reflection come out of this mirror. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Vampire.

The word didn’t make sense; nothing made sense.

Yet, when you parted your lips to let your tongue run against your teeth; you found your canines the same size they were, that they should’ve been, but they were much sharper than what would be considered normal and you almost pierced your tongue from the gesture.

“Maybe…” he carried on, lost in thought, “there’s even a chance that the tadpole has been messing around with more of the changes your body is going through.”

“Tadpole?” You interjected, your head shaking of its own in disbelief. “What?”

He huffed in astonishment, “So you really do remember nothing.”

You sighed, “I— I don’t… As much as I try, I’m met with a void of memories. The only thing remotely familiar since I woke up has been… you.” His eyes had gone soft and bright with hope, but also melancholy. “I don’t know who you were to me, and I don’t know why, but some part of me knew I could trust you.”

He chuckled, a sad smile finding its way over his lips, “Even with your memories gone, it seems I can’t leave your mind, can I?”

You gave him a smile of your own, “Would you mind… reminding me of my life? Of us?”

“Gods, where to start, darling. Would you believe me if I told you our story began with me holding a knife to your throat?”

You found yourself smiling unconsciously, “With everything that's happened to me in the last few hours, I find that easy to believe.”

“And strangely enough it's probably the least odd part of our story.” He tilted his head, giving you a genuine smile before carrying on.

“It’s all tedious, really, but… There’s one memory I want to tell you about: The night of the tiefling party. Ugh, it was dreadful for the most part; the wine tasted like vinegar, the music was too loud, and there were too many of those bloody tieflings at our camp, to be quite sincere— “

“Not a people’s person I take it?”

“My dear, after years of being forced on and by people, the last thing you want is to be surrounded by more of them.” The sight of you parting your lips and raising your eyebrows told him you had also forgotten about this and he quickly caught onto it, changing the direction of the discussion back to the topic at hand. “But, there was one good thing that came out from this night: when we met in the woods. I had high hopes of you joining me there — although no doubts, of course — I was the most suitable option among our group after all.”

“Most suitable? Someone else wanted to spend the night with… me?”

“Darling, the whole world and their mother wanted a special moment with you. But only one of us got that honour. A chance to steal away with everyone’s new favourite leader.”

The faint sounds of the party fading: music echoing through the forest, people laughing, the cool air of a summer’s night breezing through, and good company throughout the night.

“I have been waiting for you. Waiting since the moment I first saw you. Waiting… to have you.”

You blinked, “You… were waiting for me in the woods, I’m— I’m remembering.”

“I did put a lot of effort into my entrance, I would be upset if you didn't remember it quite honestly.” You laughed softly. “Do you remember what happened afterwards?”

Your eyes roamed as you pushed the memory further, before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, “You… kissed me.”

“After you had the audacity to say I didn't have you yet while you had come to me of your own volition, yes, and then?”

You chuckled, but your smile quickly faded as your memory unlocked the next part of this puzzle. He looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes; he was simply waiting for you to say it yourself.

“We made love.”

He sighed dramatically, “Love is such a big word for what happened back then, but…” his tongue clicked, accentuating the end of the word, “That was certainly the start of it. The start of a series of feelings that came and complicated everything. It’s what pushed me, soon after, to confess to you that it was all part of a silly plan I had to keep you in my favour. I was terrified, honestly, especially considering it was all because I initially manipulated you to fall for me…”

He paused, searching your expression before carrying on, and continued when he found nothing but soft eyes looking back. “But then — despite everything — there you were, holding me tight.”

He let go of a deep breath.

“For so long I had nothing — no one. And all of a sudden, there’s you, who held onto me, who cared so much more than anyone ever did. And I found myself not wanting to let go. I couldn't.”

He frowned, turning his gaze away, “And Cazador used that against me. As soon as he had word of my whereabouts in Baldur’s Gate and the crowd I was hanging out with, he jumped at the first chance to torture me once more. He probably thought I was unaffected by any physical pain he could impose on me by now, so he did the next worst thing: take it out on the one person I cared about in this wretched world.” He shook his head, “If we hadn’t gotten there in time—”

“But you did.” You interrupt. “You saved me and yourself in the process. This ritual wouldn’t have given you the freedom you think it carried.”

His eyes lit up, “You talk as if you knew what it entailed.”

You nodded, “It’s coming back to me, bit by bit. I remember what you told me about him. I remember the purpose of the ritual, and your plan to replace him and take his power instead.”

He sighed, “Gale thought brilliant to kill one of my brothers to stop Cazador from carrying on with the ritual. Bloody wizard didn’t realise it meant I couldn’t continue it myself then.

“Maybe he did.” His gaze flickered back to you in confusion before you continued, “You don’t need satanic powers to carry on, Astarion. You’re free now.”

He huffed, “And all it cost was my life in the sun.”

“Well,” you tilted your head, “It did cost me mine too. Once the tadpoles are gone, we’ll both be banished to the shadows once again. But we’ll be together, and that’s something at least.”

He rolled his eyes before landing them on you, “At least the transformation didn’t take away from your heartbleeding optimism, dear.”

You chuckled, “Thank the Gods for that— ugh!”

You clutched at your stomach, your body tilting forward in pain, and Astarion instantly knew the cause of your suffering; it’s something he recognized all too well.

“Hells, you must be starving. Gods know Cazador wouldn’t waste a single drop on a lowly spawn — no offence, dear.”

“None taken,” you forced a humourless laugh. “I shouldn’t have expected much considering I was to be cattle for a satanic ritual.”

He turned around and you kept a close eye on him as he handled the bottles beside him, pulling out a silver cup out of his bag of holding to pour you a portion.

“Here,” he sat back down, parting his legs open, extending one arm to you, “Come on love, sit back against me, would you?”

You stared unsure for a few seconds but obliged him. You scooted back until your back was fully resting against his chest, leaving no space lost between the two of you.

When he brought the cup forward you reached for it but he pulled back, clicking his tongue, “Oh no, my sweet, I will be the one to feed you tonight. This is your first time, we wouldn't want your primal instincts to take over now, would we?”

You turned around to stare at him for some time with incertitude and he simply tilted his head, with a sly smile, “Humour me, darling. You’ll be glad you did, hm?”

You pressed your lips together almost pouting, but acquiesced as you nestled yourself between his legs, your tense body laying against his chest once again.

He brought the cup to your mouth at long last, while his other hand held onto your chin. You gasped at his touch — while not unwelcome, it was a surprise — and you parted your lips to welcome your drink.

His hands were rough against your skin, yet there was a softness to it that made you melt under his touch. Made you want to push further into his hand to know how it would feel around your throat. It was almost enough to make you forget about the drink against your lips. Almost.

While the mere closeness of it had been invigorating, drinking it was ecstatic. It felt like your first meal in weeks, and it might as well have been with the pit that had replaced your stomach.

You took big gulps of the delectable nectar, barely pausing for air as you rushed to empty the cup’s content, eager to have your fill with this delicious substance.

“Slowly now darling,” he pulled the cup away from your lips and you gasped at the loss of your feeding source, “This is your first time feeding; I wouldn’t rush things.”

You frowned, but complied; even if you were starving, he had over two hundred years of experience with this form — you barely had a few hours. Your mind wasn’t all there yet either, and it's true that you couldn’t trust those new primal instincts to be civil enough to drink responsibly.

You held onto the one truth you knew, one that was clear ever since the start: you trust him.

You eased back into him, letting him hold you and guide you throughout your meal. The cup rested at a slightly down angle against your lips to allow you good mouthfuls of blood without overfeeding you all at once.

“There, good girl,” he purred. “You are doing so well for me, love. Small sips now, let your body recuperate from the shock.”

There was something about his voice that soothed you, brought you a peace of mind, a calm after this storm that had been your last few hours.

A shiver down your spine, that travelled all the way down between your legs.

You finished the content of the cup at a slower pace than you had started, soothed by his soft approach and the new blood filling your stomach, and he took this chance to explain more about your condition while pouring you another serving.

“Considering this is your first feeding, you’ll need a bit more to carry on until your next meal. Mind you, it’s normal if you don’t feel full; this is a curse, after all. The real challenge is to learn to live with your hunger.” He cleared his throat as he brought the cup back up to your lips, full again, “Alright now, open up, love.”

You hungrily parted your bloodied lips to welcome another serving.

“There, there, just like that.” A soft whimper left your throat between sips, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “Shhh, you're okay, you're doing just fine.” He leaned next to your head to whisper, “You’re perfect, my sweet.”

For a moment, you could swear you felt your heart beat anew.

You drank with his help until you finished one full bottle from his reserve, and with the pain in your stomach settling down, you allowed your body to relax against him. That’s when you felt something poking against your back, something you wanted to taste as much as the blood that had blessed your tongue just moments ago.

And he must’ve known, too.

“So, as you must’ve realised, your hunger was a side effect of the transformation. But what you’re feeling now, which I can very much smell on you, is a result of your feeding.”

If any of the blood you had ingested had made it in your veins by now, they must’ve all rushed to your cheeks at this very moment.

“Blood,” he continued, “Brings us back alive temporarily; it warms us, allows our hearts a few shy beating of their own, but it also reawakens other mortal pleasures. The first time it can be… a tad overwhelming.”

“It’s…” You hadn’t realised how quiet your heart had been until it started beating away once more in your chest; your cheeks felt warm, your breathing had accelerated, and your core was aching. You breathed out your reply, “It really is.”

As you turned your head aside, resting against his shoulder, and your eyes lingered over his lips, another primal urge awoke in you to devour him, in every way possible. You needed to taste him, his mouth, his blood, his come—

Until you were blessed with another sudden memory, and you turned away from his lips, gazing anywhere that wasn’t on him to stop yourself from acting irrationally.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry—”

He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him in one fluid movement. “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling, and I would be more than happy to entertain these carnal thoughts I saw in those eyes of yours. Unless you’d rather spend the night with someone else?” he teased.

You held your breath as he brought you closer to him, his hand lingering over your cheek. If you just closed the distance now, you could—

“No, Astarion, I won't force—”

“Stop that right now.” He cut you off without skipping a beat, stunning you once more. “You are not forcing yourself onto me or forcing me. This, right now, right here, is my decision.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, drawing you closer to him, your lips but a whisper apart.

“I want this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice lustful and heavy with need. “I want… you.”

Your eyes locked and the second after, his lips were pressed against yours and you let yourself get lost into this kiss. How his hands held on to your face, how his tongue tasted the blood on your lips, how he whimpered into your mouth at the contact of your own tongue; this memory of love you had remembered earlier, it had been a memory of this.

His kiss, his touch, his voice, him.

Your kiss was engulfing, springing your heart back to life in a sudden rush as you met every of his kisses with the same passion, and soon enough, you were laying back against his bedroll, with him over you and stealing your breath away; one — you didn’t realise yet — you didn't need anymore.

His hands rested next to your head and you allowed yourself to reach up to hold his face, trace the lines of his age over his cheeks and down his neck, and trailing along the opening of his shirt before he broke apart from your lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this for many nights now.”

“What would I be like as a vampire?” You asked semi-jokingly.

“No, silly — Although, the question did flit into my mind once or twice, but no. I was thinking of how I would have you, the next time I would bed you. I’ve touched myself at the thought of having you again, the sounds you would make, how your cunt would feel wrapped around my cock instead of my hand—”

He took your hand from where it was resting and guided it down between his legs, and a short gasp escaped you when you felt how hard he was.

“ —but tonight, after spending a lifetime looking for it, I finally know what I want.” His half-lidded eyes seemed darker than they had been, and you lost yourself in them, "And Gods help me if I can't have you—”

“I’m yours,” you answered back in a heartbeat, your voice but a whisper, “I’ve always been, and I’ll always be, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your words broke the remaining chains of control Astarion had over himself, as he pulled your pants off from you and removed his own shirt while your hands fumbled with his trousers. A moment later, you both laid against one another, as bare as you were on your first days on this plane of existence, your lips back on each other.

“Mmh, I wonder…” Astarion let his kisses trail down from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck.

“Hm?”

“Now that you’re a vampire,” he left small kisses alongside your neck and down your shoulder, “your blood will taste different.”

“You’ll still drink from me?”

“Well of course, dear,” he lingered in the crook of your neck, before licking his way up to your ear where he whispered, “And I can’t wait to know how you taste after you’ve tasted me.”

You shivered against his breath, fully expecting him to bite you following those words, and when he didn’t you were almost disappointed. He, on the other hand, seemed extremely satisfied with himself.

“Eager already? And here I thought I was the most depraved between the two of us.” You sighed heavily as he came back up to face you, “Maybe I will be tasting you tonight, after all. Is this something that you want?”

You smiled softly, your hand finding his cheek again, “Yes.”

When your lips met this time, it was soft, pure, communicating words you hadn’t exchanged yet despite your longing for one another. It only made you want him more.

“Speaking of tasting you,” he said against your lips, “I wonder if something else has changed.”

You barely had time to process what he had said when he made his way down your chest, briefly sucking on one of your nipples.

“Mh,” he released it with a pop, “this one still tastes the same.”

He moved to your other breast to give it the same attention, teasing it with his teeth and earning him a moan from you before releasing it, “This one as well.”

He left a path of kisses as he trailed down your navel, until he was resting between your legs with a hungry look in his eyes, “Now, for the main course—”

You weren’t prepared for his fangs to dig in the inside of your thighs, making you scream in surprise as your hands grabbed onto the sheet of his bedroll. The pain quickly turned into pleasure as he nibbled and kissed the softness of your thigh, before making his way to your wet slit, which begged for attention.

The smell of you invaded his senses and you could feel his breath over your core as he breathed you in, his arms now wrapped under your thighs as he laid on his stomach and between your legs, “Darling, you smell divine.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his tongue pressed against your entrance and he slowly licked all the way up to your clit, “And you taste— Gods, you taste even better than before.” He smiled up to you, his mouth covered by a cocktail of your blood and juices. “I didn’t think it could be possible.”

You were past words by now, but even if you had come up with something, you don’t think you would’ve been able to utter anything with the way his tongue worked between your legs, devouring you of your essence.

“I would forsake blood for the rest of my days if it meant I could nourish myself only of your essence, my love,” he said between licks of you. “The Gods truly made you to ruin me; I could never move on from your taste, even if I wanted to.”

His hands surrounding your thighs and his nails digging in your flesh kept you in place as he continued to worship you, and no matter how much you wiggled, his hold on you held on, as if you were the first meal he was having in days and he wouldn’t let you go until he was sated.

Astarion recognized the signs of your unbecoming as your breathing started shaking and your legs tensed around his head, pushing him to tease you further.

“Are you gonna come for me now?” He smiled between your legs, “Come on, love. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

The vibration of his humming as he continued to savour you only added to the feeling of his tongue, lapping at your entrance and sucking over your sensitive bud, and his nails digging deeper into your thighs added a delicious hint of pain. After weeks without any sex, you were sensitive to the slightest touch, and now there he was: tasting you, devouring you, wanting you; it was all too much.

“Ah… Astarion!”

Your head fell back against the rough floor of his tent as your back arched and stars clouded your vision. You knew how ironic it was to think so, but you had never felt more alive than you did at this very moment, with your devoted lover worshipping you like the goddess who had finally answered his prayers from all those years ago.

Your legs collapsed as he let go of them to move back up to face you, and he took this chance to hook your leg with his, pushing it upwards to create the perfect angle for him to place himself against your entrance.

Your half-lidded eyes met his, delirious with lust, and you wanted to express the feeling that had been weighing on you for too long now, but when his lips collided with yours and you tasted yourself, all those words got lost on his tongue exploring your mouth.

“I’ve waited so long to finally have you,” he said breathlessly against your lips. “I kept pushing back, thinking it was never the right time.”

He licked his lips, wiping off the string of saliva that connected your mouths. “When you disappeared… I thought I had lost my only chance. I’m done waiting around.”

He slowly pushed himself into you with a low groan as he felt your slickness wrap around him, and you threw your arms around his neck as you moaned into his ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So tight and warm, all for me. I would stay here inside of you for a decade if I could. You feel exquisite, my love.”

He retracted himself slowly, and plunged back in with the same agonising pace, taking in the feeling of your inside. “I’ll enjoy taking my time with you; discovering what makes you tick, tease every one of your sensitive spots. But tonight — I just want this: feeling you wrapped around me and to know that I’m the reason for your unbecoming.”

His pace accelerated, each thrust of his hips brushing against your clit as your bodies almost fused as one, pushing you closer to another edge already.

A particularly well placed thrust had you dig your nails into his back and he hissed into your ear, “Darling,” he panted, “Remind me to trim your nails when we’re done.”

You quickly realised what he meant when a poignant smell, stronger than the bergamot, brandy, and rosemary you smelled on him previously, invaded your nostrils and your mouth watered in response. What you didn’t realise was how you ended up breathing down his neck, just against the popping vein conveniently displayed for you to bite down on. Just one bite away from ecstasy.

“Still hungry, little love?”

You were snapped out from your daze by his voice purring into your ear, pulling away from his neck and blinking as you gained back control of your thoughts.

“I’m— It’s just— Your blood smells really, really good.”

He chuckled, “I tend to have that effect on people. Would you like a taste?”

You forced yourself to look into his eyes, “I… Are you sure?”

He smiled, “There’s nothing I’d like more, my love.”

His gaze reflected sincerity and you gulped as you found your way back in the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his sensitive skin. You licked the vein you had sensed earlier but didn’t push further. That’s when you felt the vibration of his chuckle, “Go on, darling. I can take it, I promise.”

With his permission, you pushed your small fangs right over the vein in his neck, relishing in the sudden flood of his crimson in your mouth.

Whatever you drank a few minutes ago was nothing compared to his blood. He was the source in a desert you had been roaming for days, one you couldn’t believe wasn't an illusion, and you drank, and drank, losing yourself in his neck, in his taste, the very essence that fueled him.

You couldn’t tell how much you had drank or how much time had passed when he growled and pinned your arms next to your head. His hips thrusting once, deeper into you and hitting your cervix is what makes you unlatch from his neck with a moan.

“I believe that’s enough, love. Now, let me taste you.”

His lips collided with yours hungrily as he increased his pace between your legs, and he groaned at the taste of himself on your lips, running his tongue across your small fangs.

“Fuck, I need you, I need to make you mine. I need—”

Something snapped within him, a side of him you couldn’t recall ever seeing — one that he could finally let go as he pushed your legs up, pinning them down across your chest and pounded deeper into you.

He growled into your ear as he desperately rutted into you, nearing the edge of his climax at the same time as yours, “I want you, I want you for the rest of our lives, please be mine, be mine, be mine!”

“I’m yours, I'm yours, I— I love you!”

You screamed as you came, his own orgasm following closely after yours, the wave of emotions clashing with the sparks of pleasure coursing throughout your body, and for a moment, you think you died and came back to life within the same minute. It was stronger than anything you remember feeling — even with your memories still scattered, you think you’d remember something as powerful.

It’s only when you came back to your senses and was met with Astarion’s soft, dumbfounded expression, that you realised what you had just said. Panic slowly made its way into your heart and you struggled to find the right words to correct yourself.

“I’m sorry— I—”

He didn’t allow you to finish that sentence, kissing you once more to steal away those thoughts of regret that faded instantly as he pulled back to speak.

“I love you too, darling.”

Your future was paved with incertitude; your memory wasn’t all there yet, but you remembered what was important for now, and if forgetting your past was the price to create new memories with him, it was a price you were willing to pay.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79 @ladycroft5245 @lets-just-daydream @pursuitseternal @longjohnsilverfish

#my posts #my writing #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #tav x astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 smut #astarion smut #OG_Y #astarion angst

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despairots · 9 months ago

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PIECE OF LOVE! — till ivan | alien stage.

till said he liked you, but he always looked at mizi whenever she walks past. maybe if he looked back, he would notice you. waiting, staring, wanting it to be your turn before you finally looked the other way.

content warning | character deaths, swearing, unrequited love, brief cannibalistic metaphors, love triangles, male reader but not mentioned (they/them prns).

till never looked at you, if he did (which is rare), it would be because of you talking to him just to get his attention. despite him saying he liked you when you both were young, he never gave you anymore attention once mizi arrived. till never talked to her, always expecting her to look back at him without asking her for it.

maybe that’s what you felt when someone you love is looking everywhere but you. you were always there for him, he knew too, always comforting him in his darkest times, praising him when he did a good job at his practice, making him gifts so he can be happy, but not once did he return it.

does he appreciate it? yes. returns your love? no.

till doesn’t know it but maybe if he looked back, he would see who was waiting for him all this time. it was only a matter of time before they turned away from him too when he finally looks back, and you were just waiting for you to eventually give up on him.

praying, wanting, needing for it to happen. if only things could be that easy, you would’ve been a lot more free. instead, you’re bounded to be hopeless forever, no matter how many times your alien owners tried to cheer you up. gifts, clothes, toys, stuff you needed to live until this day, it would never work.

it was until recently, at the rip age of 17, that you finally grew up and matured. turning around and living the life of a young star, your owners busting their asses for you to live a life of a celebrity. it felt good to finally be free, maybe you missed being chained down to till, after all, you still cared for him.

you wanted him to be apart of you, you still wanted him carnally, sinking your teeth into him, almost like you could smell his flesh from miles away. all that you concluded that you wanted to let go so bad, was that you still loved him.

till never looked at you.

“ [name]? “

ivan’s touch on your cheek woke you up, realizing you slept on a couch, uncomfortably so from the neck in your pain when you sat up. his black pupils that had a hint of red stared right back into yours as he kneeled infront of you while cradling your hands.

“ivan..?” you trailed off before realizing he won his match, making you softly smile, “congratulations.” ivan nodded back in acknowledgment before he stood up, pulling you up with him to bring you into a hug, putting your arms around him as you buried yourself in his neck. you were lucky ivan was here with you, loving you like till could never bring up the courage to do.

now, as you raise up your platform, dressed in white with the boy you once called yours beside you, a look of concern glistening in his eyes, wondering why you weren’t looking at him like you used too. all you were doing is staring at the ground, like you lost the will to win.

till never looked at you.

watching ivan die, just to save till with no regrets while giving him a goodbye kiss as he fell to ground made you realize something, ivan looked at both till and you, just to die for both of you. when he died, you died alongside him, now till has to go up against you.

till watched you walk up the stage, wanting to get this round over and down before he followed you like a lost dog. he never heard you sing before, he never listened to your rounds or music, he was too busy with his but once he heard you live, you sounded ethereal, pulling him into your downfall.

he didn’t notice that he was being your back up vocals before you grabbed his hand, mic just inches away from your lips, did he start his singing part. till noticed how dead your eyes looked, how cold your skin felt, and how you harshly let his hand drop yours grasp.

his eyes kept following your figure, noticing how smooth and soft your movements were, aswell as how soft your voice was being when you looked at him whenever he looked away from you. despite everything, you could never hate him.

you, who didn’t wish him harm.

you, who wished he looked back at you.

and you, who didn’t want to win.

because of that, you grabbed his wrist to pull him into a short kiss, pulling away until he pulled you back in, shocking you more than anything. a part of you wanted you to believe that he was only doing it because he missed mizi, that you were just filling in the role of her until he pulled away.

a sad smile on his face as his lips moved, saying words that you weren’t able to hear, there was a ringing in your ears, the scoreboard showing that you won. till managed to catch the look of disbelief when your eyes went back to him, he was glad that the glint in your eyes were back, just not the way he didn’t want it to come back.

the tight feeling on his neck disappeared, reaching up to grasp at it did he realize you placed it on yours. no, no! he’s already lost mizi, ivan, and now, you? it’s like the world didn’t want him to be happy with the amount of blood splattered on his hands.

your smile, and ivan’s smile will now haunt his dreams, watching your body collapse onto the ground next to him with your blood on his cheeks did he yell out of despair, cradling your body close to him as the crowd watched in disbelief.

till never looked at you.

he always did, whenever you weren’t looking in that case.

“i’m sorry for not loving you enough.”

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mcuamerica · 6 months ago

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Stranded | Part One

Featuring (in the next part): Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Azriel left you in the Autumn Court border while Rhys was at a ball with Amarantha and the other High Lords, leaving you trapped outside of Velaris with the enemy... Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of wings and skin burning, misogyny, alludes to SA, let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

You stood in your black and navy dress, feeling ridiculously out of place next to the maroons, dark greens, and golds of the Autumn Court. While Azriel, one of your best friends and your brother's Spymaster, escorted you to the Court, he quickly forgot his guard duty and winnowed away to find Mor.

"Mor's upset. I gotta go." Was his excuse, leaving you alone and outcast in the Forest House. According to Azriel, taking care of a safe female in Velaris (that he had puppy dog eyes for) was more important than guarding of the Lady of the Night Court in enemy territory. You were sure Rhys would be pissed if you decided to tell him about Azriel's disappearance.

You were starting to feel tired and bored as you stood on the wall, so you decided to leave. If you could get out of the Forest House bounds and cross the wards, you could winnow back to the town home. You really wanted to get out of this dress and take a nice bath. The Autumn chill wasn’t terrible, but you missed the summer breeze in your city.

You walked out of the court, watching as most of the Autumn Court guards paid you no attention. As you made your way out of the Forest House, you took in the fresh air. It was always too stuffy and crowded in ballrooms for you. You were glad to be outside. At least you could stretch your wings out here.

You tested your winnowing abilities as you made way through the wards. However, just as you made to winnow back home, your magic stuttered. You let out a small gasp, trying to reach down to that deep pool of darkness, but just a small puddle was left. You took another breath, trying to recall what you drank. You came up empty, literally, as you didn’t take any drink offered throughout the night.

You heard Rhys’s voice ring through your head. “Keep Velaris safe. Don’t tell anyone. Amarantha has taken our magic. Be careful. Protect the city. Protect each other.” And then he went silent. Your mind… you tried reaching out to him but nothing happened.

You started to panic, looking around to see if somehow Azriel came back for you. But from what you could tell, you were alone. You almost turned back to enter the Forest House. But, with Autumn being nothing short of an enemy, you decided to chance your luck with the forest in front of you. It was too wooded to take off from your current spot, so maybe you could find a clearing ahead.

Taking a deep breath, keeping calm, you started to walk north. If you could make it to Winter, maybe Kallias would allow you to cross into Night uninterrupted. Winter was normally your closest ally, and you quite liked the High Lord when you met him.

You walked for a few minutes, taking deep, calming breaths as you made your way deeper into the woods. Every sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you were just waiting to see that clearing of trees.

Instead, three males approached from the right. You took a deep breath, tucking in your wings as you pressed against a tree. The males appeared drunk, but stable. They weren’t stumbling just yet, but you could smell the alcohol from where you stood. Which meant they would catch your scent as soon as the wind turned.

You took another deep breath, walking forward. They couldn't touch a member of the Night Court. They would be butchered for it. You kept your head high as you continued to walk, only pausing when one of the males called out to you.

"Hey! What are you doing out in these woods?" Sentinels. That's the kind of clothing they wore. They were guards for the forest.

"I'm going home. Can't winnow." You said, tucking in your wings in hope they wouldn't see them in the shadows of the night. You tried to will the darkness to you as you normally would, as Rhys taught you to, but only a little bit of it budged. Amarantha took the High Lords powers... meaning each and every other power tied to their court would be restricted even more.

"Unfortunate. You look like you're a long way from home, as an Illyrian." He said, stalking over to you. It seemed they had no problem provoking a member of the Night Court.

"I am lady of the Night Court. I need to get to my people." You said.

"Ahh, the Night Court." Another one said in a mocking tone. "Lady? You look little more than a whore to me." He said and walked from behind his friend, backing you into a tree. "Shall we see what the Night Court thinks of us when we burn its lady's wings to ashes?" He asked, fire flickering on his finger tips.

Of course. They were in their home Court. No matter how little magic the High Lord had, the land would provide more of it. "My brother will incinerate you if you do."

"My brother." The male teased in a high pitched voice. "Who? Rhysand? That little bastard?" He asked, hand nearing your wing. "He won't even care when we're done with you." He said.

You tried to side step, but two sets of arms restrained you. And then came the pain.

You let out a blood curdling scream as hot, burning flames enveloped your wings. Along with the bark of the tree behind you cutting into your tendons. You fought as hard as you could, pulling away from the males as best you could. The males dug deeper, surely drawing blood from your arms but you didn't know as the fire tore through your wings. Over your pain and screams, you heard a belt unbuckle.

"Never fucked an Illyrian before. Let's see if what they say is true." The male in front of you said. You continued to struggle, but the pain of your wings burning was too much. The smell of the membrane and, gods... the skin of your back, was enough to make you pass out. But you stayed conscious, willed the little magic in you to cast a net of darkness around your wings. You prayed to the Mother that the darkness would snuff out just one tendril of the flames.

Your screams must have alerted the guards of the Forest House, because next thing you knew, a familiar voice was commanding the males to step away. You fell to the ground as the males released you. As quickly as the flames enveloped your wings, the were snuffed out. That didn't mean your wings were repaired. They were completely in ruins. Torn in almost every place, tendons burnt to a crisp that the most important ones had snapped. Your back was raw, blisters forming on the skin. Even the braid that cascaded down your back was burnt, leaving your hair singed and ragged against your shoulders.

You whimpered, the small ounces of your magic working to heal whatever it could.

"Lady (Y/N)," You heard that familiar voice again. You couldn't move. You couldn't look up. Who was talking to you? "It's Eris... we need to get you to a healer before this gets worse." The High Lord's heir said.

"Worse?" You rasped, your voice nearly inaudible because of your screams. You couldn't bring yourself to keep talking. Only thinking in your head as your body sagged further into the ground, nothing is worse than this.

Azriel's back seized in pain, a terrible, yet amazing feeling snapping in his gut.

Rhys had spoken to them mind to mind just minutes ago, telling them what happened. And leaving Amren in charge of them.

Azriel couldn't leave Velaris. Whatever magic Rhys threw out completely shut the wards and borders. He couldn't winnow to his High Lord. And more importantly, he couldn't winnow to you. He asked Mor to try and get out, but she was stuck as well. Rhys trapped them inside the city, effectively trapping you outside as well.

Only thing is, Rhys expected Azriel to be with you. To protect you and get you home safely from Autumn. Instead, he went to Mor because she was upset about something. And left you stranded.

He was just about to tell the others that they needed to find a way out when the pain and the snap hit. In a few blinks, his entire world shifted.

The others went silent as Azriel jerked where he stood, his wings fluttering behind him.

"Azriel?" Cassian asked, frowning as his brother jerked again.

Azriel took a few deep breaths as the pain died down, and then came to the horrible realization of what snapped in his gut.

"(Y/N)-" He paused and stared at his family. The ones that might just kill him when he said what he was about to. "(Y/N) is in the Autumn Court."

"What? I thought she came back with you?" Mor said.

"She's in the Autumn Court," Azriel stated again, ignoring Mor, "and she is my mate."

Part Two

A/N: Oof... this was so fun to write!

Main Masterlist

#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar spoilers #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #katie writes

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mattslolita · 1 month ago

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dealer chris who takes bambi on frequent shopping sprees 🛍️

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

"this will so good with those platforms i got!" you squeal excitedly, holding up a black mini skirt with sparkly detail.

"sure would," chris hums in agreement, nodding towards the basket, licking his lips as he gives you a small grin, "put it in the basket."

you squeal again, quickly laying the skirt in the basket with the other piles of clothes before bounding over him and throwing your arms around him. you left small kisses along his face, then one final one on his lips before pulling away. chris moves to grab you by the waist, keeping you planted firmly next to him as you both continued to browse the isles.

you would probably never get used to large lumpsums of money chris spent on you when he took you on shopping sprees — at first you were scared too buy too much, afraid that you'd scare him off. and somehow, it never happened that way; chris loved seeing you dolled up in the clothes you liked wearing, and he always felt great knowing he was the one who was able to provide you with these things.

you were always holding onto his arm, or his arm hugged your waist, grazing against your ass as you picked out whatever it was that looked good to you.

if you were looking at something that got chris hot in his pants, often times then you found yourself pressed against the wall of the dressing room, silently moaning whilst chris had one of his digits in your mouth to keep you quiet, the other hand digging into your hips as he slammed his hips into yours while coaxing you to be quiet so nobody could hear you. your pretty little bows were tousled in your braids, eyes wide and watery as you had to keep from letting pleasurable sounds escape your plump, pouty lips.

no matter which scenario you'd end up in, you loved your shopping sprees with chris.

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valentoru · 6 months ago

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|| Limitless ||

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

TAGS: mainly written/partially SMAU, fluff, fake dating, trope of convenience, secret admiration, eventual smut(?), eventual established relationship.

AUTHORS NOTE: I’m gonna TRY my best to get this out to you guys as fast as I can but when I start writing I struggle to stop and it becomes LONG so please stick with me. Also is is a reused idea from my old series(on old acc), with this same premise, called bounded(can be found on my archive account.) also COMMENT TO BE INCLUDED IN THE TAGLIST!

[DISCLAIMERS: despite the fact that I have shown y/n to look the way I have, y/n is stylised and she is subject to looking however you wish her to look in your eyes.]

TWITTER ACCOUNTS: [Freakanomics] , [important artists] , [friends & lovers]

PROLOGUE: [0.00]

CHAPTERS: [0.01] [0.02] [0.03] [0.04] [0.05] [0.06] [0.07] [0.08] [0.09] [0.10] [0.11] [0.12] [0.13] [0.14] [0.15] [0.16] [0.17] [0.18]

TAGLIST(35/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @fushism @angstmuncher @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy @serenadesvt @art-n-rot @aastrobliss @herdemisee @tikideedee @tittiesarenice @fire-child-kira @csolya

#⤷limitless #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #maki zenin #kugusaki nobara #yuji itadori #ryomen sukuna #megumi fushiguro #inumaki toge

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hanatagami · 10 months ago

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sagau imposter au (part 1)

i was just introduced and am now an avid enjoyer to sagau, especially imposter ones, so i wanted to make some hcs. this is gonna be your pov, but i would like to do povs of the actual characters too.

Upon “descending” to teyvat, under circumstances you know now, you find yourself to be incredibly lucky that you arrived where you did

you woke up in a domain of all places

it was a weird thing to wake up to, being in the middle of a strange platform with a golden tree not to far from you

you weren’t certain what domain per say, but you could confidently deduce its domain-hood, though it never acted like a typical domain

as in monsters didnt spawn and there wasn’t a challenge for you to face

instead it acted like your own personal sanctuary

if you wanted to sleep: a bed would appear inside

the same with a bathroom (which was weird to use in a space that seemed almost alive) and any other luxuries or necessities you needed

you made sure to compliment the space you were in, just in case, and was surprised when the tree tinted pink, but in a situation like this

more shocking things were bound to happen

like looking at your body and noticing veins of gold which was plenty shocking, the gold seemed to be able to glow or dim to your desire.

You could make it so looked like your body was covered in rivers made of stars (which did wonders for your confidence, way better then any tattoo you could’ve gotten irl) or dim it to where the gold looked completely unnoticeable

now youve read your fair share of sagau fics, and you deemed its probably safest to stay in a domain for now, until you figure what tropes may await you

god forbid-

‘(Y/n) forbid...? no thats weird’ you think to yourself

god forbid it was an imposter au or smth and you get smited by whatever archon this domain resides in

luckily, the people in the world dont seem to be checking domains you h o p e

your content residing in the domain till you’ve figured out the full extent of your abilities, and it was only then that the domain provided enemies for you to practice on

(thankfully they weren’t actually alive, cause they are supposed to be your subjects now or something)

you figured out what you could with the guidance of a space that couldn’t physically speak with you, but you did your best

you were surprised to find that a lot of abilities weren’t really used by you per say, but rather that things followed your requests, if that made sense

you didn’t conjure wind to blow enemies away, but you gave silent requests and was gleefully answered

you didn’t create waves of water to send crashing against opponents, you asked and something, maybe Teyvat itself, listened

your hypothesis was that the original creator could manipulate things, but that is either learned or wasn’t passed on to you?

you thought yourself not as the original creator, but a reinvention of them. Almost like Nahida, you aren’t the orginal creator but perhaps the creator remade themselves into you and placed in another world to be raised as peoples equal and learn things like morals

perhaps tired of an eternal, all knowing, and all powerful existence.

it was a good idea to keep yourself free of the burdens of immortality, a self-imposed somewhat-life cycle

well that was your hypothesis, you didn't know for sure

but what you did know is that almost everything would answer your requests, even vague concepts like time, space, or gravity

you were even able to control the size of your body, growing big enough to fill the void below the domain, or small enough to be a molecule no one could see (you weren’t sure what was responding to you to do that, but it still worked)

‘the original creator mustve been amazing...’ you often thought to yourself

You goofed around a lot with these abilities before deciding to go out and venture into actual teyvat, to figure out what you were actually dealing with

imposters, killer characters, or whoever...beware, you know what your doing (kinda)

and as you stepped out into the land (after giving the domain a big thanks and promise to visit again) you grew a little surprised at the outfit change that happened the moment you stepped on land.

rocks and minerals from the earth arose and surrounded your body, not stabbing or poking you in anyway

instead it felt secure and comforting

you spun and gazed down in awe as all kinds of materials formed garments around your body

it was like a dream outfit for you, something celestial that you could only see in your imagination

and it looked like it came straight from Liyue

and which upon surveying your surroundings of the things in the area, seemed to be Liyue

when you turned around, there wasn’t actually a domain there, so you couldn’t use it as a landmark or anything

(it must be some personal creator domain? that would make sense)

maybe your “holy” garments change depending the country you were in?

Interesting theory, but you didn’t feel like testing it out just yet

requesting the materials to form something a little more Liyue casual to hopefully blend in

and with that you set off!

it only took a few minutes to realize you weren’t quite sure where you were going, but don’t worry, Teyvats got you

a beautiful path made of stone that was embedded with cor lapis arose from the ground to guide you to the city, your desired destination

and as you gazed behind you noticed the path disappeared a couple steps behind you

‘only i get the red carpet, eh? how kind~’

and with that NOW you set off

it was a very wonderful walk, really

much more peaceful then any walk you’ve had playing the game

no hilichurls or slimes or abyss mages trying to test your patience like they did with your designated traveler

well they did approach, but they approached bearing gifts! it was actually cute watching hilichurls walk up to you with their most valued item, and its like just an apple or something

but you thanked them, gave them a pat to which they always did their little dance which you couldn’t help but chuckle at (it was so much better in person) and that only seemed to make them more cheery as they went back to their tribe

slimes came up for some pets, which how could you not

when you pet the first slime that came up, a pyro slime, you were amazed at the way it felt. It didn’t turn its element off, cause apparently it didnt need too. when you touched it you could feel the pure heat it eminated, but it wasn’t painful. there was a firmness from slime section but the fire itself only seemed to keep you warm

it was then your goal to experience petting slimes of all elements on your way to Liyue’s city

and the results of your petting: electro had a pleasant tingling (especially if you have one hand on a purple one and the other ona yellow one), hydro was more water then slime, anemo felt like putting your hand above a air hockey table, dendro was disappointingly normal but it smelt really nice, and cryo felt like a thin layer of ice on top of water, and geo was rough (unshockingly)

it made your trip to the city very eventful and quick, you didn’t notice time passing at all

it was upon approaching the big gate of Liyue did you really stop to think of a plan

what were you gonna do when they recognize you? cause according to the fics you’ve read, they always do

eh you’ll wing it, you just wanna try Xiangling’s cooking tbh

and maybe one of Chongyun’s popsicles

would they recognize you and agree? would they think you were an imposter or something? you were kinda excited to find out

to avoid the small fries (the guards) from pulling anything, you covered the rest of the distance using a form of teleportation (thanks space) and entered straight into Liyue

you had appeared in an ally to hopefully avoid people spotting you fade into existence there

willing yourself to appear a little more confident (you’ve heard looking confident can really get you places when trying to sneak or fool people)

you began to trek through the big city you’ve grown so used to seeing from a screen

and you really arrived at just the right time, since it was dark from the night sky so all the lights and lanterns were lit, lighting up the city beautifully

so much more beautiful then in game, thats for sure

it kinda made you eager to see the lantern festival! the big deer lantern (the deer was actually an adepti wasn’t it? you kinda forgot) was sure to be breathtaking in person

and maybe it was your outfit, or maybe the lack of guards, nobody was really clocking you on your appearance

(you were only now deliberating that they may not know your appearance, it may be a vibe thing but who knows)

you didn’t see any statues dedicated in your honor, which was kinda a plus. no direct comparisons can be made

you had come up to Xiangling’s restaurant and she was, thankfully, the only one there

“Uh, excuse me.”

“Yes, how can I- Your grace!?”

ah, she knows

“SHHHH, I dont want anyone to know!”

“How are you here? Where are your guards?? It isn’t safe-”

“Don’t worry about it! I just want some of your food is all, I promise I’ll go back right away.”

So there was an imposter...how interesting.

“I could of just delivered it to you Your Grace, or someone could of picked it up!” She was looking at you with great concern, you weren’t entirely sure what would threaten the “creator” in this world to begin with, but they may just be paranoid.

“I mean with this imposter going around, who knows what they may try and do...” The thought itself seemed to bring Xiangling great distress, her body visibly drooping at her words.

It felt weird for her to be so concerned over you, when its not actually you shes concerned for. Not you, but someone whose trying to be you, so ig in concept shes concerned for you?

whatever

“Come on, this is definitely one of the safest cities to be in, you know that. By the time they tried anything they’d already be getting chased outta here! Besides, your right here, you can protect me!” It was weird trying to comfort her in this situation, and you could only guess if you were mimicking the actual imposter correctly.

“Well...I guess so...” She didn’t seem completely convinced at that, but she seemed to be letting it slide slightly at the thought of protecting and spending time with you. How sweet~

“Hey, do you think you can make me your signature boiled fish?” You were trying to stay vague...you wanted to try it, but you weren’t sure if the imposter had already, so you had to be picky about your words.

“Uh, sure. Yeah! I can do that for you!” She was channeling some optimism now, her face bright at the thought of “your grace” trying her signature dish. It was really cute!

You were lucky no one heard her shouting “your grace” however many times, there weren’t any other customers and her dad wasn’t there for whatever reason.

But that didn’t stop someone from recognizing you though.

You had felt something pulling on the lower half of your clothes, so naturally you look down and see

the one and only

former god

Guoba was gazing up at you with sparkles around his eyes

he seemed really excited to see you!

“Oh, aren’t you the cutest!” You were quick to scoop him up and give him the bestest of cuddles you could muster, and he seem to respond in kind

he was so much softer then you could of thought, and he emitted such a nice warmth

people in your world were told not to hug bears, so you werent gonna pass the chance to do so in this one

“Wha--Guoba?!” You both pause in your cuddling sensation to give Xiangling a shocked look at her interuption. Her attention had completely left the food she had been preparing previously (impressively enough her hands still seemed to be cooking it perfectly) and was focused solely on your interaction with the little guy.

“What’s the matter? Should I not be hugging him?”

“No no! Your more then welcome too Your Grace! Well at least I say but...the last couple times Guoba completely...disregarded you! I guess I’m just shocked.” Her gaze had bashfully returned to the food, potentially embarrassed at having such an outburst in front of you.

“Well I don’t know, maybe he just needed to get used to me.” You focus back on the little guy in front of you and part of you knows thats not really the truth. He’d been so “disregarding” because it was the imposter he had been presented with, not you. He didn’t really make expression but you could tell that he was really excited to see you and be held by you. he’s so freakin cuTE-

Another part of you was thinking, surely someone must’ve seen that as strange. You thought back to the “monsters” too, someone surely must’ve picked up that the imposter being ignored by animals or attacked by “monsters” should be very suspicious. But according to this whole imposter fiasco, it wasn’t suspicious to warrant a check.

“Here you are! A Wanmin Restaurant Boiled Fish, our speciality!” Xiangling placed the meal in front of you and gave you one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen, you almost had to squint at it. A mix of Guoba’s sudden acceptance of you, and trying her signature dish must be really exciting.

Sitting Guoba down in the chair next to you (to his displeasure, as he made sure you knew with an unhappy grunt) you pick up the utensils and look down at the meal in front of you. It smelled heavenly and you made sure to give it a good sniff before getting a spoonful and getting a taste.

The flavor embraced your tongue wonderfully, it was so delicious it was easy to think you wouldn’t order anything else at this establishment. I mean the characters always said Xiangling was a good cook, but this meal was just a whole other level of good.

During your food-caused glee, you didn’t take notice on how Xiangling had looked at you. She couldn’t help but think you looked especially radiant today, not to say you didn’t anytime else, but there was something about today that gave you such a...glow. Watching your eyes shut in delight, humming at the taste of the meal, she felt a warmth from your presence she hadn’t realized was lacking before. Even in a common Liyue garb, every aspect of you invited people to be enraptured by you and your presence. Her heart raced as your eyes cracked open happily to indulge in another bite. She hadn’t seen you so pleased trying food before, though she wasn’t really around to see you eatting

but the face you were making...part of her wishes you only made that face when you ate her food

she knew that if the rest of her life was spent only cooking for you, it’d be a life worth living. (she knew that before hand, but now more then ever did she feel that way)

Guoba had grumpily forced himself into your lap, making you have to scooch your chair back a bit to fit him while still eating (not that you minded, it enhanced the experience tbh)

Letting out a sigh at your full and satisfied stomach, you wrapped your arms around Guoba and buried your face into the top of his head

He let out a small sound of satisfaction, which was very cute

Gazing at Xiangling she seemed to be flustered trying to find a topic of conversation, which was kinda shocking cause she didnt seem like the type to struggle conversationally

(it was probably cause it was you)

“Bleh...I don’t really wanna go back after such a nice meal. I wanna have fuuun! Is there anything we can do that won’t get me caught?” You interrupted her internal dilemma with your own dilemma.

How do we get more out of my time in Liyue before im wrongfully exposed?

“I know! Are Chongyun or Xingqiu busy? We can hang out with them!”

She seemed conflicted at your suggestion, probably wanting to take you back for safety reasons, but also not wanting to cut your time together short.

“And Guoba doesn’t me to go either, see?” And indeed you were correct! The bear was giving Xiangling the best puppy eyes he could while in possession of bear eyes, and you could tell it was working wonders on her

you could tell by the sudden slump of her shoulders that her internal battle had concluded, and you let a bright smile at her sheepish nods.

Now what misdeeds can you guys get into before getting caught??

#sagau x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #x gn reader

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lookforsomeoneelse · 6 months ago

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Safety Precautions (your half decent antivirus stops you from being summoned)

guys I think that sahsrau is all ill ever post anyway my brain juices are flowing very well (if you wanna consider this a defacto sequel to my last post, I guess you can, also I know jack about software and am just making assumptions)

It was finally time.

Everything had fallen into place.

There had been many trials and tribulations throughout its development- from testing to its implosion to pressure from everyone. There were so many resources that had been invested into the project- the life of a researcher, the sanity of those involved, billions of credits- But that didn’t compare to the reward that the universe itself would reap upon its activation. The Aeon of Guidance’s arrival was imminent- and it was only a matter of time until the rejoice of the cosmos.

Or so they thought.

The collider designed to bring you down and into their loving embraces, they discovered, had been faulty.

The desperation of your devotees had shown itself in the lack of time the researchers had spent into designing it, and so problems were bound to appear.

But now…

Maybe they won’t get that chance ever again.

After being tricked into downloading some sort of Trojan horse by some rando and having one of your accounts banned and wiped off of the respective platform, you had decided to install an antivirus in order to make sure that a situation like that wouldn’t happen again. You’re also an avid Star Rail player- which boils down to the fact that you’ve been there, done that, and have accomplished basically everything the game has to offer you. So imagine your absolute shock when you do your routine check on what your anti has fished up, and you see that Honkai: Star Rail has been flagged for malware. Holy s***. What to do now? You could write an email to Hoyoverse stating your obvious complaints, or you could post this for the community to see, or maybe…

You could just disregard it as an error.

What to do, what in the world to do?

(A/N: my brain hurts severely- I cranked this out in about 15 minutes. I’d like to ask you all what you would do in this situation.)

#womp womp #I still suck at writing #so #ill try to improve I guess #anyway #sahsrau #sahsr #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #self aware au #honkai star rail x reader #also #send asks #or requests #please

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 23: Bondage

warnings: bondage, unprotected sex, Saiyan forms, BDSM, power dynamics, dark themes word count: 0.6k pairings: Son Gohan x Fem!Reader teaser: So you decided to spring it on him. What’s the worst that could happen?

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @cherryblossombankai, @sindulgent666,

@dearest-yeosang, @yeowangies, @chilichopsticks

Whenever people see you out with your husband, they would never suspect how strong or how dominant he could be. Gohan is quite the charming man on the outside. He’s sweet, protective, and so smart. He’s even good with young children and the elderly. So whenever people tell you just how lucky you are to have such a sweet husband, you always have to bite back a laugh.

They don’t know what he’s like behind closed doors. They don’t understand the beast that lingers under the surface. He’s the kind of man who’s so sweet and so kind, but when he needs to teach you a lesson, he’s able to flip that switch.

However, you decided to turn the tables on him. Recently you were thinking about how angry and how dominant he might get if you were to tie him up. The way he’d try to rage and break the bonds, it would certainly end up with you on your hands and knees, ass in the air.

So you decided to spring it on him. What’s the worst that could happen?

You were beginning to regret this decision. The way his hair keeps flickering as you tighten the restraints on his wrists has you wondering if you could even handle him if he were to break these restraints. Which, you knew, he was going to. It didn’t matter if you were going to be good and behave, it was angering him already to be tied up.

“You think you’re so tough, huh?” He asks, his voice already so deep and gravelly with lust.

You purposefully tighten the tie even more, making him growl. He pants as you begin pulling down his pants, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s leaking and in dire need of attention. You reach over and flick the head, making it throb. There’s a line of precum connected to the head and to his lower abdomen. He looks absolutely ferocious.

“Had your fun yet?” He growls.

“Not even close!”

You get on top of him, pushing your skirt up and pulling your panties aside. Then you let his cock dip between your folds, rocking your hips back and forth to get you both even more excited. You can hear him growling even more now, and you begin to worry more when you hear the sounds of fabric ripping.

Soon you’re met with the angry blue eyes of your husband. He was already in Super Saiyan form now, and the restraints were not enough to keep him tied down. He chuckles when he notices the cute yet fearful look in your eyes. He cups your chin.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t think it would turn out this way?” He grunts as he pushes you into the mattress. He uses the scraps of the restraints to tie you up to the headboard. “You should have known that I’d be winning in the end,”

With your wrists now bound, you pout when you look up at Gohan. He smirks at you, loving the way you’re helpless. Then he grips your thighs, pushing them up to your chest. His cock sits heavy on your mound now. Gohan growls before he begins sliding up and down through your soaked folds.

“How does it feel to be under my control? You really thought you’d be the dominant tonight, but we both know how this ends.”

Without another warning, he pushes into you until he’s balls deep inside you. You cry out, your hands fighting against the restraints. You wish you could hold him so you could try and ground yourself, but it seems almost impossible to break out of this. Even if they were broken, somehow Gohan made them work even more for you.

“Ah ah ah, don’t you dare.” He warns you before kissing you hungrily. “If you break out of this, it’s going to end up really bad for you baby.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

#bacon.writes #kinktober 2024 #gohan x reader #gohan x you #Son Gohan x reader #Son Gohan x you #gohan smut #Son Gohan smut #dragon ball #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball z #dragon ball z x reader

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ameliemaaaee · 3 months ago

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The Silent Witness - Oneshot Series

(1) How you Meet the BAU Team.

Chapter Information Summary: Y/N finds herself enravelled in the depths of a puzzling case which can only be solved in conjunction with one infamous FBI unit. Content Warnings: Canon Violence/Gore, Awkward!Reader & Spencer, Platonic Hotel Room Sharing. Word Count: 7,986. Read on AO3

Story Masterlist - (1) -

The London Underground was not your favourite place. Yes, you were grateful for London’s fabulous public transport system, especially on the mornings where bumper-to-bumper traffic would only frustrate you more. However, the constant work-day rush of people in business attire, provided a stark contrast to all the tourists in their flamboyant outfits, both equally surmounting your dissociative annoyance.

Not to mention the germs. There was a study done on that. It proved that, when swabbed, The London Underground was the dirtiest place in the city, with ninety-five different strains of bacteria found. In fact, you happened to be friends with this researcher, who in confidence told you that even a one-hour trip on the Tube is enough to raise the long-term risk of heart attacks. And this was simply due to the air pollution. It made you shiver just thinking about it. It was a shame driving in the city was slower.

You were rushed to say the least, evading the rush hour was top priority when you weren’t on call, however an interesting case had come in and your expertise was required. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be in high demand, despite your age you were renowned in London for your competency as a forensic pathologist.

Your life for so many years had resolved around the dead, those whom you had to pry the clues out of. Work remained your whole life, the ability to gather evidence from the silent witness, and bring justice to many was beyond comforting to you. The feeling of winning a case against someone you had scientifically proven guilty, defeated the solemn, and gruesome nature of your job by ten-fold.

Now, you focused on the rattling train below your feet as you timidly clutched the railing above your head. The shuddering sound of the train drawing to a halt beneath your feet, rocking you back and forth. This was it.

The platform was abnormally busy as you made a beeline for the exit, barely noticing the busker who provided the soundtrack to the mornings of so many, for so cheap. Bounding up the steps you surfaced alongside block-red lettering screaming ‘Charing Cross’, The Embankment was just a short walk from here.

You weren’t too sure of the details of your newest case, quite simply that it was ‘a big one’ and that it was a rather public disposal. Public disposals were common in London, however public disposals in busy Underground stations weren’t. Especially with the Night Tube services. A public disposal site told you that this kill was a threat. Whoever it was wanted their attention, they wanted their case to be public, the wanted London to shudder with fear. But alas, the closed station required more walking.

Brushing shoulders with strangers, much like the rest, your gaze was dead set on where you were going. And as The Embankment station neared you sighed. This was tourist London, The Embankment opened out onto the Thames, and once you reached the Thames, Westminster, and Big Ben was in View, and the famed London Eye. But you didn’t have time to take in the part of the city you never dared to enter, you had work.

As you reached the station the Mounted Police immediately caught your eye. Sat astride their horses were people attempting to control and direct the crowds back to Charing Cross; no wonder it had been so abhorrently busy. Ducking under the police tape you were greeted by an uninterested officer who guiltlessly looked you up-and-down. Plastering a smile on face you removed your identification and shoved it politely into his face.

“Dr. Y/N L/N. Home-Office Pathologist.” The officer remains stoic, thumbing you towards a set of stairs where a familiar face stood, ever-stoic, patiently waiting.

“Where’s the body?” You omit the greeting. Angela knew you too well, and you both were past the ‘good morning’s’ and ‘hello’s’ that seemed the ever-so-polite thing to do.

You were a tight-knit pair, ever since school, and bonding over your preferred use of the Oxford comma, you had both shared a solid friendship. It wasn’t based off greetings or words, nor a physical display of affection. It was based off the reliability and trust you felt for each other. It was a simple, and honest friendship. That allowed you to occasionally let-loose on your days off. But today would not be one of those days, in fact you wouldn’t see one ever again.

“The top of the stairs, it’s a male. He’s probably in his 30’s. He has a series of interesting tattoos.” Angela’s candour filled your ears, her level tone forever reassuring you of the collective, daily, London anxiety, which seemed to radiate throughout the city.

“Interesting how?” You raised a brow in curiosity, a small chuckle escaping your lips as Angela rolled her eyes, pushing her teal-ish hair behind her ears, mixing it with her original black-ish strands.

“Interesting as in, you-need-to-see-this-and-contact-the-appropriate-people. That kind of interesting.” She said it so nonchalantly, ‘call the appropriate people.’ That didn’t sound interesting, that sounded like ‘this-guy-has-tattoos-relating-to-some-form-of-terrorism-plans-and-you-should-bring-in-counterterrorism’. And boy, were you right.

“This is bad.” You deadpanned, you had no adjectives for how bad it was, other than it was very, very bad. The police officer a great distance behind you bit his thumb anxiously as you stood buried in a white HazMat-style SOCO suit, Angela kneeling beside you, silently shaking her head.

“Angela, I don’t even know who to call about this.” You gestured to the male lay ahead of you, his body scrawled with descriptive instructions on ‘blowing up the D.C Capitol Building.’

And that’s how you ended up at a bar, drinking with the FBI’s distinguished Behavioural Analysis Unit.

The thrashing of bass pounded against your chest as you sauntered through the doorway, away from the cool night air and into the warmth of the bar. You weren’t expecting there to be any live music, but you were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the music, that soon would be drowned out by cheap liquor.

The rest of the BAU trailed into the establishment behind you, slight grins on their faces. All of you had changed, ditching the work clothes. The FBI’s plane would be grounded until tomorrow evening, so they were officially off-duty, and allowed to have fun.

And by the looks on the group’s faces you all needed this, the tensions had run high during your latest case and there had been weeks’ worth of sleepless nights, that the medical doctor deep down inside you didn’t approve of.

“Let’s find a booth!” Garcia practically yelled down your ear over the music. You nodded pointing to a room that sat off the main stage area, where it would undoubtedly be quieter.

Heaving a sigh of relief you slid into a booth, in between the males you had come to know as Dr. Spencer Reid, and Derek Morgan. The men all chuckled lightly as Agent Hotchner stands.

“First round is on me!” You laugh quietly, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face before giving Hotch your order, double vodka and Diet Coke, your drink of choice.

“You know, I’d never been to London until now.” Derek chuckles, as he leans forward, his elbow resting on the table. His gaze connected with yours.

“It’s a nice city.” Spencer chimes as you shake your head laughing.

“You haven’t even seen it.” You smile, leaning back against the plush backing of the circular booth, your gaze finding Hotch who was carrying a tray of drinks, making a beeline for the table. You hadn’t had a night out in so long, you were practically buzzing at the concept of alcohol.

The band’s melody had faded to a distant hum, your heart synching with the echoing bass that still rumbled the ground beneath your feet.

“I must say, you scrub up nicely Dr. L/N.” You turn your head to Derek who takes in your frame. Derek was an attractive man, you couldn’t lie, and you knew he meant no harm by his comment, but you couldn’t help but feel scrutinised.

You offer him a polite laugh, before turning to Hotch who was dishing out the alcohol. Gratefully you took your drink from his hand, taking a long sip. If you wanted to be able to actually hold a conversation without being too uptight, you would need to be at least tipsy. Plus, the alcohol made you forget about… well, the alcohol that was terrible for your health.

“So, Y/N, I assume this has been an interesting week for you?” You chuckle at Rossi, who raises his glass, before sipping on what appeared to be whiskey.

Due to the commotion at the Police stations, and the high-risk of having FBI agents in London they had been assigned to a more discrete location; and lucky for you, that was your lab.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to having FBI agents in your jurisdiction, in fact it was the opposite. You were fascinated by their work, in law-enforcement they were truly celebrated for their research, and work. You just weren’t too chuffed by the idea of new people, of which there were now seven.

They all looked, strangely, just how you would imagine a team of FBI agents looking, all but one. The flamboyant one. She was dressed in a way you could only describe as eccentric, her blonde hair curled at the ends, sections held in place by red-rose clips to match her dress. She seemed friendly, despite the sombre circumstances, a half-smile chopping her features.

The rest seemed to blend in. There was another woman, her slender frame, and long blonde hair somewhat reminiscent of the mean girls at school. The rest were all male. We had, the obvious team leader, he stood tall, clad in a black suit. How would you chase bad guys in that? Next, was the cliché buff guy, who spent too much time at the gym. Finally, the skinny, sweater vest guy, and an Italian?

“You must be Dr. L/N.” The team leader spoke up, making his way towards you, his hand outstretched. You found yourself staring at it for a brief moment, as if the action were strange to you, before you realised, he wanted a handshake. You offered a slight smile as you reluctantly gripped his hand, shaking it.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Aaron Hotchner, but you may call me Hotch.” You nod, keeping your gaze on the floor. You were in a room with a bunch of criminal profilers. That was scary. Could they profile you? Would they? Were they profiling you right now? You weren’t exactly keen on the gazes boring into you.

“This is my team, we have Supervisory Special Agent, David Rossi.” You wave awkwardly as he gestures to the Italian guy, unsure of what social conduct was required to meet criminal profilers. David Rossi smiles at you, offering a brief salute that would have made you chuckle in better circumstances. Perhaps you would be better, in better circumstances.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Jennifer Jareau.” The pretty blonde leans forward hand outstretched, as you smile awkwardly. Her grip was firm, irking you less that Hotchner’s handshake. However, you already felt inferior to these individuals, no number of correct-introductions or doctorates could save you. They hunt criminals for a living. Yes, it may not need a doctorate, in fact, you weren’t sure any of them were doctors. But they certainly weren’t cowardly in a mere social situation, like you.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Derek Morgan.” You react quickly this time, lifting your hand in a quick, but still awkward wave to the incredibly muscular guy in front of you. Derek Morgan seemed like such a fitting name for him, in fact, you weren’t sure there was a name more suited for him in all the 5,163 first names, and 151,671 last names commonly used in the United States of America.

“We also have our Technical Analyst, Special Agent, Penelope Garcia.” The eccentric techie waves her hand cheerily, a wide smile breaking out on her face. She seemed sweet, and you were glad to see a female computer nerd. There certainly wasn’t enough of them in this universe. Her grin was infectious as you attempted to hide yours with the floor.

“Last but not least, we have our resident genius.” Your head snapped up at that. ‘Resident genius’? What rendered this guy a genius? You supposed, he looked smart. But you couldn’t quite decipher if it was just the sweater vest. In fact, he looked more jet-lagged that smart.

“Supervisory Special Agent, Doctor Spencer Reid.” Ah, a doctor.

You smile slightly, glad the introductions were over.

“Yeah, I have worked a fair few high-profile cases in my time, but this probably tops them.” You smile at the group, your gaze connecting with JJ and Garcia who both offer you sweet smiles. You can feel Spencer’s gaze on you as he clutches a glass of water in his right hand.

“It certainly tops ours.” JJ smiles, leaning towards you, a chuckle escaping her lips. “I never thought we would see an international case, never mind this.” You smile, bringing your drink to your lips, taking a refreshing sip.

“I- How do you do what you do? I mean- the chopping and the blood and guts and-“ Garcia frantically waves her hands in front of her, very nearly knocking over her martini as she rants.

“Garcia- she’s used to it, just like we are.” You nod in agreement with Hotch, your ears tuning in the set change happening with the band next door.

You scan the remainder of the room you were in, the bar was fairly quiet, most of the younger crows would have moved onto nightclubs by now. You could see various groups of people seated in their booths, most of them appearing as if they were celebrating, which felt fitting for your occasion.

“You know-“ You turn back to Rossi who was pointing a finger at you, a sly smile on his face.

“-I thought this week was going to be a drag when you asked us to surrender out firearms.” You watch as small chuckles erupt from the rest of the team, allowing yourself to join in with them.

You watch the team, stare at you expectantly, kicking yourself into gear.

“I have a room for you, a conference room.” You direct your statement towards Hotch who nods his head sharply, gesturing for you to lead the way. And you did. You guided them towards your conference room.

It was a large room with glass windows. On the back wall was a large TV screen designed for presenting, in the corner a safe. It was quite simple by design; a room, a TV, a table, and chairs that surrounded it. You weren’t sure it was FBI approved with its scratchy carpet and simplicity, but it would have to do.

“I hope it’s okay.” You try to say it with confidence, as you stand by the door the agents filing into the room, but your voice comes out as more of a squeak. Typically, this causes you to make unnecessary eye-contact with the Doctor.

“Uhm- You are going to have to surrender your firearms.” This certainly got a reaction from all but Aaron Hotchner, who likely, was aware of this.

“Why?” The doctor spoke up, as the rest of the team curiously gazed at me.

“Fire-arm residue. You are gonna be around bodies that haven’t had post-mortems, and you could contaminate them. So, I take the arms.” You watched as half of the team swallowed harshly, obviously not-to-sure about not having a weapon, which was such an odd reality of Americans.

“You’ll get them back, don’t worry. It’s just anywhere beyond this room would count as an unnecessary contamination. I think your Unit Chief was informed?” Your gaze turned to Hotchner who nodded.

“Guys, the weapons will be retrieved if we are leaving the building.” The team nod, clearly becoming more willing to surrender as they remove their holsters. You reach for a plastic box, holding it out as you walk around the group, being handed the various heavy weapons.

“I don’t carry.” You nod politely at the technical analyst, moving finally towards the male you now knew as Spencer Reid. He placed a revolver into the box, odd choice.

“Okay this is your safe, the code is 62282. Please remember it.” You quickly place the weapons, and the plastic box into the safe, locking the door with a loud beep. Before you walk to the door, watching everyone settle in.

You stand uncomfortably at the door as you watch them lay their belongings down on the table awaiting some sort of response, or a cue to leave.

“Yeah, I don’t have a good track record when I’m not carrying a firearm.” Spencer chuckles, pulling his glass back up to his lips.

“Boy wonder here doesn’t do well in close-combat situations.” You watch as Derek reaches over you, ruffling Spencer’s hair, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

“Awh, it’s okay. I don’t think close combat would be much use against someone with a bomb.” You offer Spencer a friendly smile, as his gaze connects with yours. He offers you a shy smile as you nod towards his glass.

“No alcohol? Very responsible.” Spencer shakes his head, still grinning.

“Someone’s got to be sober.” You nod, laughing as JJ and Garcia stand, walking towards you.

The pair grab you by the arms, attempting to pull you over Spencer, you chuckle awkwardly as Spencer stands, allowing them to drag you out of the booth. They wrap their arms under yours as you stumble on your heels, feeling the alcohol hit you.

“We are dancing.” Garcia gently taps your nose with her pointer finger as JJ supports you on your feet. She laughs as you feel your face pale slightly.

“I-I don’t dance. Plus, this is a bar, not a nightclub.” Your gaze falls on the rest of the team who seem extremely amused at the girl who couldn’t stand properly after only one drink. You sigh slightly.

“I’m a doctor, I know how bad alcohol is, so I don’t drink often, okay?” You watch as the remaining men laugh at your dramatic statement as JJ slowly releases you from her grasp, satisfied that you would be able to stand alone.

An idea pops into your head.

“People don’t dance in bars over here, but I do know my way around London.” You raise a brow, watching as the team look at you inquisitively.

“You lot hunt serial killers. How about Jack the Ripper? Spencer you could be the tour guide!” You laugh as their faces morph into one of understanding, a look of excitement settling on Spencer’s face.

“Alright, we have work to do. We need to start brainstorming.” Hotch’s voice rang out throughout the room as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the room.

“Okay, so there has been no post-mortem done as of yet, but I can show you pictures from the crime scene yesterday, and the close-ups produced by my lab tech.” You stand in front of the team, all eyes trailed on you. You quickly turned the TV on with the remote, leaning over the table and logging into the laptop.

“So, the unidentified male is assumed to be around 27 years old, he was found in a very public London Underground station, lay on his back. As you can see, he was shirtless with an intricate tattoo scrawled over his body.”

The team nods, as you pull up the picture. The screen filing with the photos of a dead man shot point-blank in the head. You notice the team’s tech analyst wriggle uncomfortably in her seat and you chuckle.

“I’m so sorry, feel free to look away if you need.” You smile at the woman as she gives you a small grin, opening her laptop and beginning what you assumed was some sort of research.

“What Underground station was he found in?” You smile as Rossi speaks up, leaning forward to your laptop, laughing.

“I have a map for you, I figured it would be more use than just giving you a name.” You pull up a map of the London underground system against the landscape, turning to see it on the television screen.

“Okay so, the male was found at The Embankment station which-“

“-The Embankment has a huge, empty substation attached to it, that has actually been abandoned since 1957. It’s called ‘Pages Walk’ and is located behind a blast door in the station.” Dr. Reid cuts you off, as you chuckle. You smile politely at the rest of the team, the male introduced to you as SSA. Morgan held his head in his hands, shaking it slightly.

“Right, you are doctor. I was going to say that it was notoriously ‘Tourist London’, and opens out onto the Thames, with all the tourist attractions, but that works too.” You shrug, offering Spencer a slightly awkward thumb up.

You widen your eyes at the sound of your name, making eye contact with the lanky Dr. Reid who was now making his way over to you. Work talk, you could do that. Spencer stood beside you as you watched the team settle for a moment more, before following you out of the door.

“How many times do you reckon I will have to remind you lot of the safe code?” You chuckle to yourself, trying to make simple, light-hearted conversation. He was a doctor, maybe you could level with him?

“I have an eidetic memory.” His reply was so simple, so nonchalant. But it caused you to furrow your brow. He was a resident genius, and you were not going to be capable enough to level with him. You open your mouth as if to speak but decide against it. No need to incite more awkward interactions.

Instead, he decided to incite it.

“How long have you been a pathologist for?” His question was simple, the answer was simple. So why were you panicking? You knew that you felt inferior, but that wasn’t something that bothered you often. Spit. It. Out.

“Uhm, around four years.” You reply, trying to keep your voice level, and even. Anything to illude to your oh-so-confident demeanour.

“You seem young.” It was a statement, phrased like a question, one that needed answering. You weren’t young, you were 29. But by normal standards, you were too young to be a pathologist of five years.

“Yeah, I guess? What are you a doctor of?” You quickly deflect the question, but almost immediately regret it.

“I have, uhm, three PHDs.” You try not to hold your mouth agape, resident genius ringing in your ears. You were only slightly glad of his hesitation. Surely announcing you had three PHDs wasn’t easy. That required admitting that you were a superior being. But then again, with an eidetic memory it was no surprise he had 3 PHDs.

“They are in, uhm, chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” You nod, humming along in affirmation as if this were a normal thing, and frankly you surprise yourself. Once you got over the initial shock it wasn’t so hard to act like you were in the presence of a regular person.

The team stand from their seats fairly quickly, accepting the concept of a drunken Jack the Ripper tour. Despite the lack of alcohol in his system Spencer’s got a massive grin on his face, and practically shaking with excitement.

Dragging them out into the chilly London air you stop suddenly, gasping.

“We should get alcohol, to-go!” You turn to face the team, your eyes wide with a sense of wonder at your marvellous idea. Only being egged on by Garcia, Morgan, and JJ who cheer loudly at your proposition.

“Isn’t that just a liquor store?” Spencer’s brow is furrowed in confusion, trying to work out what alcohol to-go was, and he wasn’t too far off.

“…and a bad idea?” Rossi follows, pointing an accusing finger towards you.

“…and illegal?” Hotch follows Rossi with a chuckle.

“No, it’s actually perfectly legal here, and liquor stores are expensive, we’re going to Tesco.” You clap your hands jumping on the spot excitedly, before making a beeline for the Tube station.

Whitechapel was shockingly quiet, for this time of night with only the distant humming of the main roads to remind you that you were in fact in one of Europe’s busiest cities.

You and the rest of the BAU team ambled through the narrow alleyways that once housed one of the world’s most prolific serial killers, Spencer occasionally pointing to various street-corners and naming one of his five canonical victims.

“You know, In the Victorian era the basal population of Whitechapel was swelled by immigrants from all over, particularly Irish and Jewish. This poverty drove many women to prostitution; The victim-pool of Jack the Ripper.” You turn to Spencer who’s walking closely by your side, something he had obscurely insisted on.

“Yeah, In October of 1888 the Metropolitan Police estimated that there were 1,200 prostitutes ‘of very low class living in Whitechapel and about 62 brothels.” You pipe up, a smug grin settling on your face as you gaze at Spencer, eyes narrowed.

“I know my facts doctor.” You slur. Spencer laughs, reaching out for the bottle of sweet beer in your hand, removing it from your grasp, as you gasp, attempting to grab back the bottle that he holds high over his head.

“Hey!” You pout as Spencer tosses the bottle into a nearby bin. You are quickly distracted by the way your trip over your own feet.

“Woah, woah! Confiscating the alcohol was a good move on my part.” Spencer mumbles as he grasps your shoulders, steadying you on the pavement. You both stop, turning to see Derek stood with Garcia, staring right at you and Spencer, a glimmer in his eye.

You look past him to see Hotch, Rossi, and JJ slowly walking towards you both. Hotch and Rossi had drunk nothing since the bar and were both practically sober. They had allowed you, JJ, and Garcia to drink despite their apprehensions, and likely remained sober to ensure you were safe. Derek had managed to leave the bar with his pint of beer, still clutching the empty glass.

You yawn slightly, swaying on your heels as you turn to the team. Furrowing your brows as you lean back against Spencer who stumbles slightly in surprise.

Your mind is foggy, but not foggy enough to ignore the impending hangover that would undoubtedly kick your ass the next morning.

“I should go home now.” You finally feel the fogginess settling in your brain, like a sickly-sweet haze. But alas, you were running out of energy. You missed Hotch’s stern look.

“You’re staying at the hotel with one of us, we can’t let you go home alone.” You roll your eyes slightly at the solemn male.

“No thanks dad! I’m excellent at navigating my way home.” You chuckle, at your own joke, JJ and Garcia joining in a drunken chorus.

“Y/N, you’re drunk, and it’s dangerous out here.” Spencer chimes, in. His arms are still holding tightly on your shoulders as you drunkenly giggle. Your forehead rests on his shoulder as you teeter on your heels.

“Fine.” You take the arm that Spencer offers you, watching as Hotch and Morgan do the same for JJ and Garcia, Rossi walking closely behind you. You were by far the most drunk, and the most likely to faceplant against concrete.

“Who wants her? Because I really don’t mind.” Derek points his finger, raising his eyebrows at Y/N as she sits on the floor of the hotel corridor. Her fingers trace the patterns on the carpet, as she hums along to a non-existent song.

The team let out a collective sigh at Derek’s implication.

The world is fairly fuzzy to Y/N, and she has resorted to paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around her, hyper-focusing on anything that would appeal to her senses. She knew that she would regret drinking in the morning.

“Fine! Personally, I feel as if Spencer should do it.” Derek nudges the lanky genius, who simply rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusting a light shade of pink.

“That’s a point, two of us have two beds in our rooms. That’s Spencer and Derek.” Rossi quips, turning to face the two men who now stood, eyes widened.

“For Y/N’s sake, I think we veer away from Morgan as a candidate.” Hotch says, a slight smile on his face as JJ and Garcia burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against one another.

“You’re up Spence-“ JJ smiles, as Hotch and Derek reach out for both her and Garcia, ushering then towards their respective rooms. Spencer watches as Rossi, offers him a humorous salute before he turns, walking down the corridor.

“Okay, Y/N.” Spencer tries to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t disturb other patrons of the hotel. He helps Y/N to her feet, cautiously gripping onto her as she sways into his chest.

“How are you so smart?” She practically whispers as Spencer guides her towards his room, scanning the key card.

“I’m not sure, perhaps it was good genetics?” Spencer quips, pushing her through the hotel room door, watching as she gasps, making a beeline for the empty bed. He can’t help but chuckle as she dramatically flops onto the bed, splaying her arms out wide across the plush surface.

“You know, twin studies of adults have found a heritability of IQ between 57% and 73%, with the most recent studies showing heritability for IQ as high as 80%.” Her words are slurred, but her facts are correct which makes Spencer smile.

“Did you have smart parents?” She props her body up on her elbows, connecting her gaze with Spencer who digs through his suitcases, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Spencer’s head snaps up at the question as he offers her a solemn smile.

“I guess you could say that. What about you, were your parents smart?” She giggles slightly resting her back on the bed as Spencer walks towards her, fiddling with the straps of her heels in an attempt to undo them.

“My dad is really intelligent academically, and my mother was amazing at the arts and music. I got a combination of both I guess.” Y/N smiles to herself, allowing Spencer to take her uncomfortable shoes off, her mind distracted by the thoughts of her parents.

“You know, I never really considered myself smart.” She practically whispers, sitting back up as Spencer removes her first shoe, she reaches forwards, helping him remove her second.

“Why not? You’re a doctor.” She shrugs laughing lightly at Spencer’s straightforwardness.

“I never found school academically difficult in hindsight. I struggled to understand that it wasn’t the work that was difficult, it was all the social-emotional stuff. At that point, to me, school was just difficult.” Spencer nods, offering her a reassuring smile as he passes Y/N a pile of clothes.

“You can have these, or if you’d rather sleep in the dress, it’s up to you.” Y/N smiles, grabbing the sweatpants and shuffling them on underneath her dress, Spencer had turned away and was now fiddling with an Ice bucket.

“Y/N, I’m going to go get ice, I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” She nods, watching him walk out the door as Y/N unzips the dress fully, pulling Spencer’s clothes over herself as best she could in her sluggish state.

The sweatshirt was massive on her, the sleeves covered her hands, but the sweatpants were a different story. Spencer was practically a whole foot taller than she was and that left the bottom of the trousers to bunch up around her ankles.

She quickly rolled the cuffs of the sweatpants up to a reasonable length, before collapsing back onto the surface of the bed. Inhaling the scent of his clothes she groaned, the alcohol was surely leaving her system, but left in its wake, a pounding headache.

So much so that she didn’t notice the sound of the door opening.

“Ah yes, is the hangover setting in?” Y/N whimpers slightly at the unnecessary noise, rolling over in the bed, onto her stomach. Smashing her head against the pillow.

She feels a meek tap on her shoulder, and turns to see Spencer kneeling beside the bed, his hand outstretched, two pills in his palm.

“Take these, so you don’t wake up in the middle of the night.” Y/N groans, rolling back over in the bed, sitting upright. Spencer’s hand steadies her shoulder as she gratefully takes the pills with a glass of water she had clearly placed on the bedside table.

“Okay, good. Now, get some rest.” Spencer pulls up the sheets allowing her to climb under them. Y/N’s eyes stay closed as she listens to Spencer shuffling around the room and entering the bathroom before the room goes silent. And with the silence she slips into sleep.

You walk the short distance from the hotel foyer to the entrance of the Underground station. JJ and Garcia trail behind you whist Spencer, ever eager, walks by your side. Spencer is bright and awake, as his gaze takes in what seems to be every little detail of the street, meanwhile you are simply glad you took painkillers.

You were also down a few team members. Turns out that Derek had managed to get a girl’s number from the bar, leaving him unavailable. Meanwhile, Hotch and Rossi preferred a ‘quiet morning.’ You would meet up with them later.

“Wait, this is Aldgate Station?!” Your gaze trails along the bright red lettering marking the entrance of the station. Spencer, JJ, and Garcia laugh at your dramatic halt. Quickly you do a one-eighty, turning and walking away from the station entrance, realising that you had an interesting place in mind.

“Did you know that over 1,000 bodies lie beneath this station, which is built over a plague pit from 1665.” You can’t help but laugh at Spencer’s fact as you turn to face him, walking backwards and trusting the oncoming pedestrian traffic to dodge you.

“Interesting, but the place I have in mind for you may be the sight of even more horror, beginning with the fact that we are walking.” Your gaze fixates on Jennifer who sighs dramatically, but Garcia simply hums, shrugging her shoulders.

You can tell that JJ is hung over, a pair of dark sunglasses are sat on the bridge of her nose, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She seems content however, the pain likely avoided with a healthy dose of paracetamol.

Garcia, on the other hand is awake and bubbly as ever. She also dons her sunglasses, but you wouldn’t know she was hungover. Her flamboyant outfit radiates a happy energy, that seemingly rubs off on you.

The sound of traffic fills your ears as you bustle past various other pedestrians trying to go about their regular lives. Slowly but surely, you guide the team down streets, alleyways, and pedestrian walkways that you begin to recognise.

“You know, sometimes I shock myself with my ability to navigate this city.” You smile to yourself as you see a familiar structure off in the distance.

“There’s nothing of significance here Y/N.” You can’t help but furrow your brow at Spencer’s quip, he was wrong.

“Spencer, how many times in your life have you been wrong?” You watch as Spencer’s cheeks turn pink, him shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, I suggest you add one more to your tally, because if you are patient, you will see that there is in fact something significant in the distance.” This causes Garcia and JJ to laugh. He follows your instructions, and you watch as his eyes widen, before turning back to you, a grin crossing his previously embarrassed features.

“Oh my god! It’s a castle in a city. Is that where the Queen lives?” Garcia’s voice interrupts the comfortable silence. Her voice is high pitched, laced with a sense of extreme excitement.

“Originally, it was built by William the Conqueror to be a residence for the royal family, and a fortress. But they soon discovered that it was as good at keeping people in as it was out.” Spencer’s hands flail about wildly and you can’t help but smile at the excitement plastered across his face, your hangover was long forgotten.

“Officially it’s called Her Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress, The Tower of London.” Spencer finds himself impressed, as you smile brightly, eyes fixated on the tower that was coming closer into view.

You walk along the perimeter of the grounds, towards the visitor centre watching as your three tourists gaze in wonder across the lawn towards the large medieval building.

“Only 22 executions have ever taken place inside the Tower of London. They include the two famed executions of Henry VIII’s wives, Anne Boleyn, and Katherine Howard.” You guide the team towards the visitor centre, watching as all the crowds ahead of you gather.

You walk towards the turnstiles that provide entry to the castle, spotting a beefeater watching over the people entering into the tower grounds.

You slowly walk towards the male, pulling a slip of paper out of your pocket. As you hand him the paper to read, he simply nods, allowing JJ, Spencer, Garcia, and yourself through, politely thanking you all for your service.

“-For our service?” Garcia pipes up as you walk towards the tower gateway, a look of confusion plastered across her joyful features.

“Yeah, uhm, I spoke to a few people.” You state simply, not really wanting to draw out what may create too much of a scene. Garcia certainly struck you as the dramatic type.

“What kind of people?” JJ pulls a strand of hair behind her ear, peering over her sunglasses at you. You can feel Spencer and Garcia’s eyes boring into you with curiosity.

“Well, The Tower of London is owned by Her Majesty the Queen, so-“ Your gaze falls on Spencer who’s face twists into an almost smug look as his brain begins to put the pieces together.

“You asked-“ He begins.

“No, no- well, I mean… She offered?” You chuckle, trying to hide your flustered sate as a look of shock crossed Garcia’s face.

“The-the Queen?!” You can’t help but laugh at her reaction. Both Spencer and JJ join her, eyes widened with shock.

Before you have a moment to think, Garcia walks straight towards you, engulfing you in a surprising hug. You can’t help but tense in surprise.

“The Queen knows we exist?!” She whispers into your ear, allowing Spencer to pry her off you. You simply nod, humming in response.

Slowly, you begin to make your way around the walls of the ancient fortress. From the tower above Traitor’s Gate, you had an excellent view across the Thames, of Bloody Tower, and the impressive White Tower behind you, housing the notorious Crown Jewels.

“I always found this part of the castle to be so weird.” You can’t tell if you are talking to yourself or the rest of the team, but Spencer makes his way towards you, his gaze curiously set on you.

You turn towards him, watching as Garcia and JJ excitedly stand on the other side of the wall, inspecting the expansive gardens where twenty-two whole lives had been taken.

“How so?” Spencer says quietly as you fix your gaze back on him.

“So many doomed people made their final journey by boat beneath our feet. They wouldn’t even had known at that point if they were sentenced to death or not.” You sigh, turning your gaze to the ground staring at your feet.

“You know, they had a way of communicating their fate right in front of them without even knowing.” Spencer nods, urging you to continue.

“The jailor would be abord the boat to transport them through the gate and he would carry an axe. If the axe was facing forwards, they were lucky, and if the axe was facing backwards… well-“ You watch Spencer’s brows pinch together as he nods in understanding.

“…People spent the worst days of their lives here.” Spencer murmured as you simply nodded, allowing your gaze to trail onto JJ and Garcia who were taking photos.

“-And the best.” You smile, nodding towards JJ and Garcia as Spencer hums in agreement, a small smile on his face.

“Are those men actually called beefeaters?” You smile at Garcia’s question, turning to Spencer as he interrupts.

“From what I gather, it’s a sort of slang name for what are officially Yeoman Warders of the tower.” Garcia nods as Spencer offers a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, we should do one of their tours!” JJ exclaims, pointing at a group crowding around for a tour due to start in just under 5 minutes.

“If you want- but those guys will slam you if they find out your American.” You smile, dragging the three agents towards the crowd, as confused looks crossed their face.

And boy, were you right.

The harsh, night air nipped at your skin, goosebumps crawling across your exposed skin, your dress from the previous night turned out to be a rather weather-inappropriate outfit. After The Tower of London, the heavens opened in a torrential downpour that caused our small group to sprint to a local bookstore café, where the missing team members caught up with you for lunch.

You spent around three hours in the quaint café, both you and Spencer eyeing up the large bookshelves lined with various graphic covers as the rest of the team talked. They truly were a nice group, and you were glad you had the opportunity to work with them. But it hurt to think that you may never see them again.

But alas, they tided you over by regaling tales of sadistic killers, and various – and frankly, hilarious – anecdotes from their time together. You could tell they truly were a family, especially since they didn’t fail to mention the fact their job is so demanding that they practically live in the FBI Academy together.

“You know, law enforcement was always a job that interested me. I just wish that I could see a case through, you know; studying the bodies is fairly detached.” You chuckled, placing your glass to your lips, and taking a sip.

“You want to chase Unsubs?” Derek turned to you, a smile on his face.

“I guess so, I always enjoyed travelling for specialty help, I was a bit more involved in solving cases then. I just feel so helpless once all evidence is processed, I must wait and hope that the police can work it out themselves.” You smile, reaching your arm out to fiddle with the napkin in front of you.

“Y/N?” The sound of a voice pulls you out of your dissociative reverie, pulling you back into the here and now, where the team all gathered in front of you.

“Thank you for everything Y/N.” You smile at Rossi, gasping as Garcia pulls you into another surprise hug. The end of her blonde hair tickles your nose as you let out a small chuckle.

“I will miss you Garcia- I will miss all of you.” You whisper as Garcia pulls back and you acquaint your gaze with the hardened concrete below your feet. Trying to hide the embarrassment you felt for becoming so attached to the people in front of you in such a short time.

“You don’t fancy a trip to America, do you?” Derek chuckles, nudging your side with his elbow, you lift your hands to cover your mouth as you laugh. Your gaze fixating on Derek as he offers you a wide grin.

“I could do with a holiday-“ You smile shaking your head.

“-but I’m not so sure my boss would like it.” You watch as the team chuckle to themselves, their gazes flicking between each other as they slowly realised, they would be leaving very soon.

Hotch stands, deep in thought as the team gather together, Y/N included, on the runway. He couldn’t help but notice how well Y/N functioned with the team, and how quickly they were able to solve an extremely complicated case with her expertise.

A notification snaps him out of his daze, gazing down at his phone he sees a reminder popping up, telling him that the jet leaves in 15 minutes and that they should all be ready to board.

“Guys-“ He breaks the giggles and chatter between his teammates, watching Y/N’s expression falter at the implication of his words. He knew she had bonded well with the team in the short space of time, and he knew that the team would miss her also.

“-you should say your goodbyes, we have to be on the jet in five for take-off in fifteen. I’ll be back in a minute.” Hotch disappears onto the jet as Garcia sucks in a breath, her eyes saddening as they land on Y/N. A soft smile rests on her face.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you all. I had heard so much about you guys-“ Y/N chuckles, her cheeks heating up as she turns her gaze to the ground scuffing her feet on the concrete.

“-you certainly -uhm- lived up to those expectations ten-fold. This wouldn’t have been solved without you guys.” Y/N’s gaze scans over the group, lingering on Spencer, who gives her a soft smile, his cheeks reddening.

Rossi was the first to step forward, offering Y/N a silent pat on her shoulder, before walking towards the jet, and disappearing inside.

JJ and Garcia stood forward together, opening out their arms as they engulfed Y/N in a group hug. The whispers of thanks making the other members of the team smile at the sight. But soon they disappeared into the comfort of the jet.

“Stay safe, okay?” Was the simple sentiment Morgan left Y/N with his gaze switching between her and Spencer suggestively, an expression they both missed.

Finally, Spencer steps forward his eyes stuck on the ground as he fails to meet Y/N’s gaze.

The pair both remain silent, gazes alternating between each other and the ground as they both relish in the awkwardness of not knowing what to say.

“I enjoyed having someone smart to relate to.” He practically whispers as Y/N let’s out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Don’t be mean to your teammates, you’re a bright bunch.” The quip makes Spencer laugh shyly, as he raises his gaze to Y/N who stands in front of him.

“You’re a brilliant mind.” Spencer’s voice is practically a whisper as he takes a small step forward, outstretching his hand to Y/N. She gladly takes it and shakes it with a chuckle.

“Hey Reid, I thought you said it was safer to kiss?!” The pair jump at the sound of a voice coming from the small jet. Turning they see Derek stood at the top of the steps, a smug grin on his face.

Hotch walks past him, making his way towards the now extremely embarrassed, frozen pair of doctors. Spencer quickly offers Y/N a small smile before dropping your hand.

Y/N turns her focus to Hotch. He stops in front of her.

“Dr. L/N, we’re running late, but I just wanted to let you know that I will be in touch over the next couple of weeks, as regards the case.” Y/N nods, immediately going into business mode, she straightens up.

“That’s absolutely no problem, I will forward you any of the paperwork on our end for reference.”

“That would be great. Excellent work doctor. As I said, I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, they were gone.

Story Masterlist - (1) -

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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minisugakoobies · 4 months ago

Note

💚 or ❤️ with Lee Know

Oooh, my choice? Ok!! Let's go with: 💚 [ Seductive ] - A deep, slow, and deliberately intense kiss filled with passion and desire

Also I wrote more Spidey!Minho 🕸️💕

***********

"I always imagined one day I'd end up in one of your webs - but I have to admit, I didn't quite picture it like this."

You stare down at the spiderweb hanging hundreds of feet down from the edge of the platform on which you stand. It’s strung up between two nearby buildings, swaying patiently as it waits to catch you.

Minho rolls his eyes at your quip. Why did he decide to go along with your plan? Defeating the super AI trying to take over the world by blowing up its server farm from the top of the building down? It's insane. You're insane.

"Enough with the flirting already. Don’t make me restrain you," he threatens, shooting a tendril of webbing at you, enough to wrap around your wrists, tying them together.

You look at your bound hands, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, now who’s flirting?" you croon playfully.

"Stop making me regret our little deal," Minho groans, rubbing at his head through the holes in his ripped mask. The two of you had promised not to attack one another in the name of saving the world. Teaming up with you was a terrible idea, but he’s desperate. Why else would he turn to his nemesis for help? "How long do we have?"

"Until the bombs I set send this building and all those crazy robots inside straight to hell where they belong? Maybe five minutes?" You glance at your watch. "Uh, maybe five minutes four minutes ago, that is."

Minho rips off what's left of his mask to gawk at you. "What?!"

"We have sixty seconds left, so, uh - better make them count!"

Minho's eyes widen as you loop your bound arms over his neck and kiss him.

When he thinks back on it later, and he will think about it, a lot, he'll tell himself it's the adrenaline surging through his veins that makes his heart race as your lips touch his. That the exhilaration of the moment compels him to clutch at you, holding you tight.

But the way he kisses you back... well, that he can't explain. Maybe he's insane now, too. It's an intense feeling, whatever it is, and he gives in to it, mouth moving fervently with yours, every press of your lips burning him up inside, on and on and…

Minho slowly realizes there has been a distinct lack of explosions. “Uh, what happened to sixty seconds??”

You check your watch. “Oh, ha! I got the hands mixed up. Damn, I’m always doing that.” Minho can’t do anything but stare as you rip your wrists apart and back away from him, towards the edge of the platform. “But we’re definitely down to like thirty seconds, so… catch me if you can!”

You jump. The building beneath his feet begins to shake, and he springs into action, diving forward. He reaches you just before you hit the web, and wraps himself around you, helping you tuck and roll safely across the woven landing pad.

He lands on top of you, automatically giving you a once-over to make sure you’re not injured, like he’d do for anyone else he just rescued from a death-defying drop.

“I knew you’d save me,” you sigh, staring up at him with lovestruck eyes.

He groans, flopping onto his back. Yeah. Definitely insane.

(@minttangerines @kiestrokes @chans-room)

#lee know x reader #spiderman!lee know #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know #emoji kiss game #ask games #anon

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ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

Text

Revived

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.9k

Warnings : light angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, violence, unedited (like always)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

“Dean!!” Sam and Y/n yelled they watched Dean drop to the ground. This isn’t how it was supposed to be, it wasn’t how the hunt was supposed to go. It was witch hunt, they dug around and found out where the witch was, it should’ve been easy. Go in, kill her, and go back home.

It happened in a blink of an eye, the witch had been occupying a rather normal looking house, on the edge of the town, pretending to be a mourning widow. The three of them went up to the house in the middle of the day, acting like passer-by’s who needed help. She didn’t suspect a thing when they entered the house. Within minutes a fight broke in between the hunters and the witch when Sam confronted her. They had to admit she was strong. She had the three of them thrown around with just a flick of her hand, their guns clattering away from them. Y/n groaned standing up, punching her in the face. The witch retaliated with slamming her into the wall and keeping her bound with intangible force.

The brothers got up to their feet and lunged at the witch. She raised her other hand and slammed the older Winchester on the coffee table in the middle of the room. The younger Winchester eyed Dean’s gun laying inches away from him, he didn’t waste any time acquiring it and pointing it at the witch. Dean groaned standing up.

“Guns? Really?” The witch rolled her eyes.

“Witch killing bullets.” Sam smirked. The witch visibly tensed then she relaxed, a sinister smile took over her features.

“Go ahead, hunter.” She snarled. She grabbed the one closest to her, which was Dean. “But I won’t go alone.” She muttered “explosio” as Sam shot her, she fell to the ground immediately. Her little incantation created an explosion which caused Dean to move a short distance through the air and descend to the ground.

As soon as the witch was dead Y/n was removed from her bounds. Sam and Y/n rushed to Dean’s side, Y/n gasped at the amount of blood pooling beside his head. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Sam put his fingers on his brother’s pulse point, and hoped to feel a pulse but he found none.

“Dean.” Sam growled holding his brother’s face. “No, no Dean wake up.” He sniffled watching the color drain from his brother’s face.

“Dean, hey…” Y/n patted his cheek a little harshly, “wake up, this isn’t how it should end. I didn’t get to tell you I love you.” She sobbed pressing her hand to his cheek. “You’re not supposed to go like this.”

The two hunters sat there crying for who knows how long. Dean Winchester was not supposed to die like this. He deserved a happy ending, he deserved all the happiness in the world. Sam’s whole body shook as it dawned on him that his brother might actually be dead this time and he couldn’t do anything to protect. He failed him. He wiped his tears harshly as he stood up. Y/n knew the the look on his face.

“Samuel Winchester you stop right there.” Y/n’s voice boomed as she stood up to the tall man. She grabbed his jacket with force and made him look at her. “I’m not gonna let you do that.” She gritted her teeth.

“You don’t even-”

“I know you enough to know you’re going to make stupid fucking deal.” She snapped. “This is not happening.”

“So what you’d rather Dean stay dead?” Sam growled.

“No, but he wouldn’t want you to do that. He’d want me to stop you. We’ll call Rowena and we’ll do everything else we can to bring him back but no deals ya hear me?” She yelled glaring at the tall man. He knew she was right, Dean wouldn’t want him to do so. He begrudgingly agreed. They hauled Dean’s body into the backseat of the Impala and drove to the bunker. Y/n had called Rowena on their way to meet them there.

The ride back was filled with silence. They brought him inside and laid Dean on of the tables in the library. They didn’t have to wait long when the bunker door opened and the ginger witch descended the stairs.

“What happened?” She asked approaching the duo. She glanced at Dean’s dead body and grimaced. She’d never thought she’d see Dean Winchester this way. Sam filled her in on what went down and the witched nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” The woman rounded the table to inspect the scene. Y/n watched her every move, with utter caution. Before the witch could open her mouth Y/n winced loudly gaining their attention.

“What’s wrong y/n?” Sam questioned, averting his eyes from his brother’s form to her face.

“I think the wound on my back is bleeding.” She said trying to stand but wincing again. As much as he wanted to bring his brother back, he couldn’t let his friend be in pain.

“Hey hey, stay here and keep an eye on her, I’ll bring the first aid kit.” Sam said leaving the library.

“Of course, because trusting me would be too easy.” Rowena added sarcastically looking at Sam’s retreating figure.

“What is it?” Y/n snapped as soon as Sam was out of earshot.

“That wound has been bleeding for a while now eh?” Rowena smirked at Y/n, who rolled her eyes.

“Stop messing around. Tell me!” She snapped.

“Well deary, It wasn’t a hex, curse or spell that I could reverse. Dean here died of natural cause.” Rowena folded her hands together. “She blew him away and he hit his head hard.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s gone. For good.” Y/n stood up and grabbed the witch by her neck. “I can’t do anything about it.” The witch gasped. The younger woman let her go.

“You can.” Y/n growled looking down at her. The ginger woman raised her brow, “Pretend. Tell Sam you’ll bring Dean back.” She commanded in a stern voice leaving no room for argument. Sam entered the room with the first aid kit and he eyed the two women, his gaze questioning. He helped Y/n with her wound.

“Your brother will be back.” Rowena told Sam, looking at Y/n. “I need a few ingredients.” He nodded getting up to go and get it for her but Y/n eyed Rowena, the woman quickly added, “Y/n has to go get them. I need your help here.”

“She’s hurt. I could..”

“I need your blood to set up the altar. We don’t have much time to waste.” Rowena lied quickly. Sam nodded and Y/n grabbed the keys and left the bunker. She bought the ‘ingredients required’ and drove to the nearest crossroads. She did the ritual to summon a crossroads demon and waited.

“Hello, darling!” She heard a voice behind here. She recognised the voice.

“Crowley.” She said turning around. “What’re you doing here?” She questioned.

“It’s not everyday Y/n Y/l/n summons a demon to make a deal.” He shrugged. “Had to come do it myself.” She nodded her head. “So what it that you’re desperate enough to make a deal?”

“Dean.” She whispered.

“What about squirrel?” He questioned stepping forward.

“He’s dead!” Crowley’s expression turned solemn at the information. “Witch hunt gone wrong. Rowena’s at the bunker but she said she can’t reverse it since it wasn’t a spell or curse.”

“Your soul for his?” He asked and she nodded at his words. “I don’t usually do this but I’ll give you fifteen years.”

“That’s generous of you but there’s always a catch with you! And I don’t want to owe anything to you.” She growled.

“I’d figure you’d say that. No catches. One time offer.”

“Seal the fucking deal, Crowley. And I’m not kissing you.” She snapped and the King of Hell rolled his eyes. “Bring him back once Rowena pulls the whole fake ritual thing.” He was not a fan of her behaviour but agreed nonetheless.

Y/n drove back to the Bunker and gave the things to Rowena. The witch did her thing, to make Sam believe that she was doing something. She said some words in Latin and they waited in anticipation, watching Dean’s body for any movement. Minutes passed and nothing happened.

“What the hell?” Sam yelled. “Why didn’t it work?” He glared at Rowena who looked at Y/n.

“I did everything right. It takes time for this to work.” She snapped back, grabbing her things.

“You can’t just leave!” Sam exclaimed.

“I did what you brought me here for. And I’m leaving.” She yelled trotting up the stairs.

“Hey come back.” Y/n yelled going behind her. She pulled out her phone as she stepped out of the bunker, calling Crowley.

“You had one job.” She snarled as soon as he answered.

“My apologies.” He sassed, “but your freaking bunker is warded against me. I didn’t fucking know when mother would be done.” He snapped.

“Do it, now.” She said hanging up and going back inside. “She left.” She announced feigning anger as she walked in the war room. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Dean sitting up on the table.

“It worked.” Sam said happily. She felt relief rush through her veins seeing Dean alive, seeing Sam happy. She watched him hug his older brother, pulling away with relieved sigh.

“What worked?” Dean questioned groaning and cracking his neck.

“You died, we brought you back.” She replied walking towards him. Dean opened his mouth to argue but she hugged him tightly and he held her close. “Rowena helped.”

“No deals?” He asked pulling away.

“No deals.” She replied smiling brightly. “I think you should clean up, you reek of blood.” She chuckled rubbing her thumb over his cheek.

“True. We all need it.” Sam added leaving the room. Y/n also moved to leave but Dean grabbed her hand.

“I can’t believe I died before telling you, again.” Dean huffed.

“Tell me what?” She asked. He had enough, he went to hell, purgatory and now he died without telling her. He had to tell her now, even if did not feel the same.

“That I love you.” He replied swiftly. He eyed her warily, dreading her rejection.

“I can’t believe I let you die without telling you, again.” She replied softly. He raised his brow, she shuffled closer to him, standing between his legs, “that I love you too.” She added with a grin. He dropped his forehead against hers, gripping her waist tightly.

“Look at us, confessing and all it took us, me dying thrice.” Dean chuckled kissing her. “God I love you so much, sweetheart.” He mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too, Dean. More than anything.” More than my own life. She thought to herself.

She didn’t fear that she only had fifteen years left, hell she went to the crossroads thinking she wouldn’t even get ten considering demons hate them so much. As a hunter, everyday she woke up thinking this might be her last day so she didn’t care about it. She dreaded what would happen if Dean ever found out what she did. She really didn’t want to know. She shook her thoughts off, closing her eyes relishing in the feeling of his soft lips against hers, she would deal with the consequences later.

Part 2??

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