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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! 😄 Can I request a fluffy oneshot with prompts: “And I love, I love, I love you.” and [a gentle “I love you too” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss] about Douxie attempts to confess his romantic feelings to shy!female!human! reader and he end up super flustered, but its okay because she thinks it's cute? Hint: She has romantic feelings for Douxie too! I live for flustered Douxie! 💖 Please?? ~🌼

A/n: Special thanks to @itsgabby.2021 for helping!

Confession || One shot

The wind picked up, letting out a quiet whistle. The leaves on the trees had started to change it's colours from the bright green to a warm orange. You wrapped your scarf around your neck and tugged on your jumper, attempting to get warmer.

You continued your way down the path to work.

The smell of coffee instantly hit you as soon as you opened the door of your beloved GDT Arcane Books. You hung your tote bag on one of the hangers next to the entrance.

"Good morning, Y/n!" a chipper voice called from the second floor of the store.

"Good morning, Douxie!" you called back.

You walked over to Douxie's cat, Archie, who was enjoying the morning sun by a window. You pat Archie on his exposed stomach, earning a purr before making your way over to the register.

You had been working at the bookstore for only a month but you felt like that you've been working there forever. Douxie was in urgent need of an employee as his last one had left the state with his wife. He had hung posters all over town, handing any passing person his business card and making calls to his friends to spread the word. Luckily, you had just moved from Europe to the small, quaint town, Arcadia, desperately needing a job.

One day, you were walking around in town, when you noticed a poster saying that GDT Arcane Books was hiring. You rushed over to the store to get interviewed. You were honestly expecting an ageing women/man to be the owner. But it turned out to be your pen pal, Hisirdoux Casperan. He was very happy to meet you in person after years of communicating through letters. He immediately gave you the job, no interview needed, since he knew practically everything about you and vice versa.

After a couple of days of working at the store, you had started to admire Douxie more than just a friend. You had developed a crush on him, which slowly turned into love. But, you knew that Douxie would never feel the same way, so you keep your mouth shut. You were happy with what you had and didn't want to ruin it by blurting out your feelings.

Little did you know, Douxie felt the same way for you.

The offer had been placed to stay at Douxie's place, knowing that you were new in town. But you politely declined, since you were already staying at a pink haired witch's apartment named Zoe Ashildr.

Turns out, Zoe and Douxie knew each other as fellow wizards. Douxie trusted Zoe to keep you safe and kept you company whenever he couldn't.

Back to the present, Douxie came down the stairs with two cups of coffee in each hand, whilst using his telekinesis floated empty boxes behind him.

"Here's a cup of coffee for a lovely lady," Douxie winked as he set a cup on the register as you were counting a new shipment of books.

"Thanks, Doux!" you called, keeping your self distracted as your cheeks had turned a crimson red from his comment.

+ + + + + +

You went to the back, needing to refill a few shelves with new novels.

Almost there…

Your fingers lightly brushed the book you wanted, but you failed to grab it.

You tried again, standing on your tip toes, even though you were on a ladder, you took the risk. This time you successfully got the novel but your foot slipped off of the ladder.

"Douxie!"

Douxie was walking to the back, wondering why you were taking so long, when he heard his name getting yelled by none other than you.

He rushed into the back room to see you falling from a dangerous height.

"Magna tawna truess!" Douxie incanted.

A sky blue aura surrounded you, saving you from the fall. You slowly got placed on the ground.

"You alright?" Douxie asked, frantically looking over you for any injuries.

"I-I'm alright Douxie," you replied.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Whenever you need to get something from that height, just ask me, okay?"

You nodded in response.

+ + + + + +

You handed the book to the petit, old lady, who gave you some cash, along with a tip, before she headed out of the store.

“Time to close up shop,” Douxie stated, coming out from the back room.

“Finally! It’s been a long day,” you replied, stretching.

Douxie laughed at your antics.

“Get some rest, Y/n,” he smiled, heading to the front door and holding it open for you.

“Thanks, Doux. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said as you walked past him, “I-- ummm… Bye.”

“Yes. Bye, love. See you tomorrow,” he chuckled.

You made your way to you and Zoe’s shared apartment.

You couldn’t help but fluster yourself as thoughts of Douxie ran through your mind.

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination, Zoe ready to greet you.

“Hey, Y/n!” Zoe called, leaning on the doorframe, “How was work?”

“Oh, y’know… same-same,” you answered as you entered the abode.

“I forgot to mention this earlier! Douxie’s coming over for dinner!” she hollered from her spot in the kitchen as if she didn’t expect a reaction out of you.

“W-w-what?!” you sputtered, spitting out the drink that was in your mouth.

“Yeah! He should be here at 7!”

You looked at the time.

6:45…

“But… that’s… t-that’s in 15 minutes!” you cried as you ran to your room and rummaged through your clothes for something to wear.

“Well, you better hurry!” she snickered, playfully rolling her eyes.

After rummaging through your wardrobe, you finally found (you choose what you want to wear, rather than the usual plain white shirt and black pants.

Abruptly, you heard the door bell rang.

Oh no… Douxie's here.

You scrambled out of your room and into the main room to see Zoe standing in the doorway, greeting Douxie. He walked inside and spotted you.

"Hey, Y/n!" Douxie waved.

"H-Hi Douxie," you said, “W-what a nice surprise…”

“Indeed. I thought dinner was cancelled when you left work, but Zoe reminded me,” he informed.

You all sat down at the dining table, Zoe serving you your meals.

Zoe and Douxie talked over dinner, exchanging quips and banters.

You just sat there with your mouth shut, afraid of saying something embarrassing in front of Douxie.

After dinner, you tidied up the table, carrying the dishes to the sink.

“Hey! We should get some dessert! How does ice cream sound?” Zoe asked.

You and Douxie exchanged excited glances and nodded in agreement.

“Sounds good,” you smiled.

“Great! Let’s go!” Zoe exclaimed, ushering you and Douxie out the door.

+ + + + + +

You all were enjoying your ice cream at the Bluff, as you all had found the ice cream truck there. Douxie and you were sitting on the bench that was provided, while Zoe was sitting crossed-legged on the ground.

You were showing Douxie all the constellations, pointing each one out to him. He was amazed by all of your knowledge on just stars and space. Douxie knew you had an interest in a lot of things, cooking, art, sport, space, and a whole other stuff. Now, he knows you also take an interest in constellations.

Suddenly, someone's phone began ringing. Zoe noticed it was hers and picked it up.

By the way Zoe's expression turned from happy and cheerful from stressed and worried, you could tell, something was wrong.

She hung up and jumped to her feet.

"Sorry, guys. I have to go. There's a problem at Hex Tech," Zoe explained. "Bye!"

She rushed off before either you or Douxie could say anything.

You both looked at each other and shrugged before going back to constellations.

+ + + + +

Now, you two were just gazing at the stars. Douxie was in deep thought.

He had fallen in love with you in the few months he had started to write letters to you. He had only seen you through a photo that you had attached of yourself in the second letter to him, but he also got to know you through the letters. You had poured your heart into those letters, telling him everything and anything. Douxie had done the same.

He wanted to confess to you so badly! Douxie had planned to confess his feelings a few days ago, though it didn't turn out so great.

Douxie had taken you out to lovely restaurant for dinner. Everything was going according to his plan, your hands were in his as he was going to say everything, when the waiter came and interrupted. And for what? The damn bill!

You being you, took out your card to pay. Douxie wouldn't allow that. So, you two started to argue over who was going to pay the bill. Douxie ended up paying, as he planned the dinner for you.

He tried again outside of the restaurant, where there would be no interruptions. Well, that's what he thought.

You had to go to a friend’s house just after the dinner, so they decided to pick you up. Douxie had no idea about this.

Again, he was going to confess, when a car pulled up beside you two, telling you to hop in.

You apologised and headed off.

After you were gone, Douxie kicked the ground and headed to his house.

Defeated.

+ + + + + +

As you were looking up at the night sky, star gazing, Douxie was gazing at you.

He had made up his mind. He was going to tell you. Everything. Right then and there.

"Uh… Y/n? I-- uh… I wanted to tell you something," Douxie spoke up.

You turned your attention to him, "Yeah?"

Douxie took your hands in his, which made you blush a little.

"Okay, here goes nothing. Y/n… ever since I saw you-- I mean… wrote to you… Well, after I got to know you through writing letters-- through the letters, I started to look at you differently. Not in a weird way! Just more than a friend? Then, when I saw you for the first time in Arcadia, before you came to the shop. I was shocked, like I was surprised that you were in Arcadia. It's not a bad thing! I thought you lived in Europe, but turns out you moved. Anyways, I started to admire you than more a friend. I've gotten to know so much about you over the past month. So, all I want to say is that… I love you…" Douxie stammered.

You giggled at his stammering and flustered state.

He is so adorable.

Douxie took a deep breath before he repeated, "I love you." He stared into your eyes before he pressed his lips onto yours, kissing you softly as you kissed back. You both pulled away, keeping your foreheads touching.

"I love you, too," you whispered.

Douxie's eyes lit up like a child before he pulled you into another kiss, though this time, it was more stronger than the first.

You both pulled away for air just as you heard a click.

You turned your head to the source, to see a pink-haired witch standing there with her phone out, clearly taking pictures.

"Aww! You two are so cute!" Zoe cooed.

You furiously blushed and buried your face into Douxie's chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Zoe Ashildr!"

Word Count: 1,900

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illyaana · 3 years ago

Text

Cursive Ink - Yamaguchi Tadashi

Collab: Pain Tolerance by @haikyutiehoe

Thanks for making this collab, hun! the idea of pierced and/or tatted anime characters got me squealing~! Do check out the other works involved in the collab in the link up there~

Tags: Yamaguchi's POV, Angst, Fluff, Yamaguchi x Tattoo Artist! Reader, Binaural

Synopsis: Love never really goes the way we plan it to be - and Yamaguchi was no exception. His failed confession to his former best friend left him heartbroken. However, his decision to go to a tattoo parlour may have been the best (and craziest) choice he's ever made in his life. (I also believe Yamaguchi is pansexual, so don't get so confused XD)

Word Count: 2552

A bit of context: In Japanese, 'Yama' means mountain, 'Tsuki' means the Moon

⋯⋯ ⫍ Masterlist �� Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Want to get a personalized drabble about your love life with an anime character you like? Check out my 50 followers event's post here! You can choose any character from BNHA, Haikyu!!, AOT, JJK and Kuroko no Basketball <3

“Yamaguchi, no,” Tsukishima said, pulling his hand away from my hand.

“Why are you lying to yourself? I know you feel the same way, Tsuki - don’t lie to yourself.”

“I don’t, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima said, eyes turning cold, “I am not gay - I am a straight, heterosexual male. I love women and women only.”

Lies.

You are lying to me.

You are in love with me.

You are already mine, Tsuki - just wake up and see it.

I know you can.

what was that kiss under the tree when we were kids?” I whispered, not wanting my voice to break, “If you never loved me, why kiss me, Tsuki?”

“We both agreed that it was a mistake, didn’t we?” The blonde male said, anger rising, “We both agreed - not just me.”

I said yes - I know I did.

That doesn’t mean I meant it.

You know me, Tsuki - I’ll agree to everything you’ll say.

Why aren’t you realising it?

I’ve waited for so many years for you to ask me out, but you never did.

I’m here, right in front of you, asking you to be mine - just say yes.

I don’t want to wait anymore - it’s too painful.

“I lied, okay?!” I scream, “I loved you ever since we were kids, Tsuki. I want to be the one you come back to when you leave, the only one you kiss, the only one you hug, the only one you dream about - I want to be that to you. Is that so hard to believe?!”

I hugged myself, not wanting to break down anymore.

That small hug was the only thing stopping me from letting all hell break loose.

I had kept this in ever since I knew Tsuki - ever since he saw him in that park.

I knew everything about the tall male. The way he smiles, the way he hides his anger when he wants to be respectful, his secret love for dinosaurs, his soft side, his small quirks - I knew it all like the back of his hand.

I knew what he needed to be the middle blocker’s lover, and I was willing to sacrifice myself to be the best thing for Tsuki.

One thing was clear in my head; Tsuki felt the exact same way.

“Yamaguchi, I’m sorry. I don’t love you the way you want me to,” Tsukishima said, kneeling beside the green-haired male.

“I don’t believe that.”

I forced his lips on Tsukishima’s.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorise how the lines of his soft and pale lips felt on his - how it softly caressed my lips without even responding to the intimate kiss I was trying to initiate.

I felt Tsukishima trying to push me away, but I didn’t let go of the male’s collar.

He already took my first kiss - what is the difference if I took another?

The second our lips left each other’s, Tsukishima punched my nose.

Blood dripped from my nose, but I couldn’t care less.

“Don’t you fucking call me Tsuki ever again, dumbass. Better yet, don’t call me.”

My last day of high school ended with blood and tears, but the pain in my heart from losing my best friend hurt more.

⁜

I stared at the stars, lying down in the little treehouse we made as kids in my backyard.

I tried to cry it all out, but I couldn’t.

I feel cheated by you, Tsukishima Kei.

You made me make you my everything.

My voice was tuned to calm you down.

My hands we moulded to keep you warm.

My life was made to keep you safe, but you don’t need me to be you.

But I do - I need you to be me.

One-sided crushes are the worst form of love, aren’t they?

You give it all for that one person - to please and cherish them.

They just think it’s just a form of showing how strong your friendship is, but you want more.

You are the only one who wants more.

You are the one crying at night about how you wished they were by your side.

You are the one craving for their touch.

You want them, but they don’t want you.

I don’t care about you bruising my face, Tsukishima-san.

I care about you fucking me up like this.

I will no longer wait for your messages.

I will no longer look at your tweets and be the only one giving reactions.

I will erase you from my narrative, Tsukishima-san.

You can wonder about how much you’ve hurt me when I have reached somewhere you can’t even touch me.

⁜

“You are absolutely sure about this, right?” Hinata said, worry laced in his words.

I open the doors to the tattoo parlour and I was instantly mesmerized. The walls were filled with such intricate designs - sizes ranging from as small as a finger to as big as my whole body. The smell of fresh ink slowly hit me, reminding me of my schooling years.

“I am sure, Hinata. I was planning to do this ever since I was small, either way. I just wished it was under better circumstances,” I reply, eyes locked on all the flower motifs.

I always wanted a tattoo - it didn’t matter how big or small it was. I always thought of how beautiful the idea was - to have something permanently inked on your skin to remind you of who you were. Flowers drew with such hidden meaning, curved lines speaking words of poetry, ideas brought into life - tattoos are an artist’s masterpiece meant to paint on my skin as a canvas.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind waiting here with you - “

“Weren’t you supposed to meet up with Kageyama later today?” I remind him, chuckling.

“That man is late for everything. I think he can handle me coming late for once.”

“I’m seriously okay, Hinata! Go get ready, I’ll send a picture when it’s done,” I say as I push him out of the shop.

“Okay, okay - make sure to send me that picture!” He said as he ran out of the shop.

Why follow me if you’re itching to leave?

“That friend of yours has really bright orange hair - is it dyed or natural?” I hear someone say.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

“Oh - uh- um- It’s natural,” I say, forming some space between us.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

You tied half of your hair in a small bun, showing me the small, intricate designs on your neck. Flowers decorated your soft skin, moving down under your shirt’s sleeve. Small golden piercings decorated your ears. They were encrusted with gems of various colours that shifted under the soft lighting gracing your skin.

You looked so beautiful I couldn’t stop staring.

“So, do you have an appointment?” You asked, breaking my train of thought.

“N- no.”

Stop stuttering, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“First time, huh?” you smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The pain is different for everyone, but I think you can handle it.”

“T-Thanks.”

God, stop stuttering.

“God, you’re cute,” you laughed while looking at my frazzled face, “Don’t worry, my dearest client - you’re in capable hands. Come - let’s discuss your design, shall we?”

You grabbed my wrist and brought me to your corner, leaving me blushed mess.

Cute.

They called me cute.

I’m breathing, right?

Okay, I’m breathing.

As we were walking, I got to see the back of your neck - more specifically, a part of your tattoo.

It was a blossoming rose - a huge one. It had vines that grew from it, encircling your whole neck, moving down your shirt and reaching the tips of your fingers. Smaller roses grew from it, branching even smaller vines surrounded by leaves.

I wanted to know the story behind that tattoo. It looked so beautiful yet so dark. The thorns that came from certain vines alarmed me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. My attention was brought to your piercings - more specifically, the design of the encrusted jewels. They were flowers, as well. In the middle of each jewel held a line of gold that branched out, just like the vines of your tattoo.

“Oh, you’re looking at my tattoo and piercings, aren’t you?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, worried.

You laughed.

“Of course it’s fine. Who would get a tattoo and not prepare for all the staring? Not going to lie, here - these piercings and that tattoo help me fuel my ego. After all, everyone’s staring at them,” you joke, playing with your hair.

You sit on your chair, pointing at the one opposite you.

“What are you waiting for? Sit.”

⁜

“So, you want some small vines surrounding a moon, right?” You ask as you brought out your tablet.

“Yeah, on my middle finger.”

I had enough of his little orders - I’ll twist his words into something much more meaningful. If the Moon isn’t willing to dance with the mountains, let the vines make the Moon feel the mountain’s pain from its rejection.

“That sounds really pretty,” you say, smiling at me, “Give me a minute - I’ll do a rough sketch and you can tell me if it’s to your liking.”

You took out the tablet’s pen tool and began to sketch. I eyed your eyes as you continued to sketch what would be my tattoo.

Thanks to the light from the tablet, I could see a part of another tattoo hidden under your shirt.

It was multiple birds flying across your collarbones, but there was one bird that moved to your neck. It was a smaller bird - much, much smaller. However, its wings were bigger - bigger than the other birds’.

“My family isn’t very appreciative of my more artistic side,” you began, knowing I wanted to know the story behind it.

“I love art - all types of art. Writing, drawing, painting - I loved how you could make a whole new world just with a few lines. My family…” you paused, “As much as they loved me, they couldn’t see a world where I could make a living from it. They tried to throw away this side of me, but the more they pushed it away, the more I needed it.”

You raised your tablet, showing me your sketch.

I loved it.

It was a crescent moon, wrapped in vines. Vines grew both upwards and below, accompanied by stars. Small buds were growing from the ends of the vines, leaves surrounding them.

I don’t know how you did it, but you captured all I felt about him in a few minutes - it astounded me.

“I took a few creative liberties, but-”

“It’s amazing - don’t change it.”

You’re amazing.

You smiled, getting off your chair.

“Head to that room,” you pointed to the smaller room right beside us, “I’ll get all the tools ready.”

⁜

“You ready?” you said, placing the pen right above my middle finger.

Why did I choose my middle finger for my first tattoo? It’s literally right on a bone, it’s going to hurt like hell.

“I guess…” I whisper.

“It won’t be that painful - trust me. People overexaggerate,” you say, trying to calm me down.

People weren’t overexaggerating - it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

I bit my lip, holding back the scream on the end of my lips.

“Hold on,” you said, removing the pen.

You soon came back with candy and began to unwrap it.

“Open your mouth, my liege.”

After chuckling, I opened my mouth and you plopped the sweet in my mouth.

Ooh, mango.

“Focus on the sweet, okay?” You said, patting my back.

It felt less painful, surprisingly. Focusing on the sweet rolling in my mouth helped reduce the pain significantly.

I raised my head slightly so that I could see your intense focus on my finger. You were biting on your lower lip as you slowly moved the pen on my finger, following the temporary tattoo you made earlier as a guide. You were annoyed by a strand of your hair that refused to stay behind on your ear - your anger-filled expression said it all.

Using my other hand, I pushed it behind your ear to help you focus.

A soft thank you came from you as you continued.

Blood rushed to my cheeks the minute those words left your lips.

So cute.

“You didn’t finish your story…” I asked, trying to end the awkward silence.

“It was that interesting to you?” you smiled.

You’re interesting, Y/N.

I nod.

“I asked them if I could draw again. I didn’t want to lose that skill I finetuned all my life - it felt so wrong. They thought I’d never succeed in life if I focused on ‘these useless hobbies’ and shouted at me. I remember crying for hours, but they didn’t care,” you say as you turn off the pen, wiping the tip.

“I began to spend more hours in school just so that I could scribble and draw. They’d never know what I did there - all the drawings I did, all the stories I wrote, all the songs I sang. I am not like my parents. I strayed from the thought of ‘art is useless’- I am the bird moving away from the flock,” you said, turning your chair towards me.

“Why did they hate art? It’s something that makes you happy - If it’s something you like, you should do it,” I said, slightly pissed.

Thank God they didn’t listen to them.

“Best part - they have paintings all over the house,” you snickered.

You sighed, stretching your arms in the process.

“I don’t really care about their opinion about it, anyway. I’m no longer under their wing - I’m my own person. I get money by doing the thing I love, and that’s so fulfilling. The only thing they’re paying for right now is my college education - that’s it,” you said as you pressed a wet cloth to my new tattoo.

“Wait - we’re the same age?”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled.

“I expected you to be way older,” I say, embarrassed.

“I am utterly offended, sir,” you say, feigning sadness.

“Come on!” I say, laughing.

“I am expecting a tip,” you say, walking towards the door.

You’re amazing, Y/N. I just wish I met you earlier…

⁜

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Yamaguchi Tadashi,” you say, closing the cash register in front of you.

“And I you, my friend.”

I walk to the door, gripping on the door handle.

I want you in my life, Y/N. Even if we spent just a few hours together, you’ve made me so happy. If you are open to the idea, I want to be friends with you - and who knows? We might become something…

I walk back to the cashier.

“Oh, did I forget something?” You ask, worried.

“No, no…”

Come on, say it.

“Hey, wanna exchange numbers? I wanna hang out with you - of course, only if you want to,” you say smiling.

Holy shit.

“Yes, please.”

You held back your laugh the minute you saw my face.

How many times have I made you laugh just by you looking at my face?

“Here’s my number,” you passed me your card, “Message me so that I get your number, too!”

“Okay!” I smile.

Holy shit. I did it.

“See you again, ‘guchi.”

⁜

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reidecorating · 4 years ago

Text

L'amore Vero È Così (True Love is Like This)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

A/N: Woke up with a killer headache after celebrating the end of 2020 and thought writing something loosely based off events that took place on NYE would be a good cure. Hope this year’s been treating you all well!

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Summer nights and Spencer Reid make it hard for anyone to keep their hands to themselves. Add David Rossi’s holiday mansion and wine to the mix, and watch a dangerously hot fuse ignite

Warnings: Language (as in cursing AND me just completely butchering Italian), unprotected sex, penetrative sex

Masterlist

Maybe it was the Sauternes. Like a spark igniting along the fuse of dynamite, the sweet sting of white grape travelled down her throat, every sip exploding in kaleidoscopic vision and unfiltered words. Even so, it wasn’t the alcohol she was drunk on. No, not drunk - she wasn’t drunk - she was absolutely intoxicated. Not by anything of substance, but by an overwhelming desire for the man she had arrived with.

Spencer Reid often felt out of place standing in any absurdly large entranceway, belonging to the old Italian with new money, recurrently settling for shifting from shoe to shoe, before taking a deep breath and pressing the doorbell with the hand unoccupied by a bottle he wouldn’t be drinking from. However, his sobriety was far from the cause of his imposter syndrome. Rather, it was the way he always arrived alone, while, what felt like, the rest of the team trickled in with their spouses or significant others. Whilst pairs would dance to vinyl sounds of Bowie, leaving little room for him and the odd number his presence formed in the abacus of the group, he would loiter in a corner, or, on occasion, entertain his godson with a pack of cards. More frequently, he would rattle off excuses about needing the restroom, only to spend his time exploring the corridors of a rather impressive house. A get together at David Rossi’s holiday home was uncommon, and the last time Spencer had wound up here, he found himself inspecting the tiny forgotten library the man housed, attempting to decipher the various foreign books residing on its mahogany shelves as he heard his friends stumbling their way through the Salsa downstairs. L'isola di Arturo, with sterling lettering on its ageing spine showing a familiar pen name, had quickly become his favourite. When he’d first translated the pages, he had chuckled at the parallels between himself and its disconsolate protagonist. However, after years of his ongoing solitude, and lonely arrivals to a castle full of people, he finally had someone on his arm.

“Wait, what does this mean? I can make out the ‘amore’ but not much else,” That someone now squinted at the words his index finger underlined as he read her the words of that very book, aloud. “Hm?” He was visibly distracted by the Patchouli blend of orange and jasmine emanating from her skin as she leaned against his shoulder to read the page herself. “L'amore vero è così,” she whispered, unsure of the correct pronunciation but attempting it anyway. “Non ha nessuno scopo e nessuna ragione, e non si sottomette a nessun potere fuorché alla grazia umana,” she finished in a whisper, affecting Spencer in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Through fluttering eyelashes, she looked up at him, awaiting his rendition, and suddenly the temperature felt as if it had risen. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been here almost as many times as him; she knew her way around Rossi’s holiday home, but Spencer had insisted on showing her his favourite room, claiming she hadn’t seen it yet. Diverting her attention from Emily’s anecdotes, “I kind of want you all to myself for a little bit,” he whispered in a kiss on her shoulder, proceeding to take her hand and pull her away from chatter over a jug of Cuban rum and homemade pizza - making sure to dissect, in explanation, nearly every painting adorning the maze of hallways on their short trek. He cleared his throat, prying his gaze away from the skin her little black dress revealed, unabashedly scanning her lips before using his own to form words. “True love is like this,” he subtly eyed her reaction to his words as he tried hard to not transliterate the European language. “It has no purpose and no reason, and it does not submit to any power except human grace.” Spencer’s voice was a newly inked quill, ebbing and flowing through the hot air of the dimly lit room. The dark winged butterflies that had been floating around her stomach all evening fluttered in a frenzy at his words, and the way the chartreuse of his eyes had been absorbed by black as they laid on her. “For such a dark story, it’s so beautiful,” she exhaled in a hushed tone, stare not leaving his as he slowly slid the book into the hollow slot where it had previously inhabited, too occupied by reading her demeanour to pay the book any more attention. “You think so? The author, Morante, Elsa Morante, was actually considered the greatest writer of Italy’s postwar generation, at one point.” Spencer began to rest his weight against the wall as they conversed. “I feel as if we always hear about Bassani or Parise, and all the unorthodox things Landolfi wrote in the fifties. It’s very refreshing to hear of a woman getting some well deserved recognition in such a male dominated niche,” she remarked. A dimple appeared on Spencer’s cheek as he grinned at the way she sounded a lot like him. “Agreed. In fact, Morante actually claimed she wished she’d been born a boy, so that she could have all of these heroic adventures. Once, when she was asked about the hero of that book,” he pointed towards the worn copy of L'isola di Arturo, “she commented: ‘Arturo, c’est moi!’,”

“Living vicariously through him? Interesting,” she tilted her head slightly, “I also think its remarkable how beauty can emerge from so much pain,” she mulled aloud. His eyebrows raised at her words and the flux in her tone of voice. Slowly, she stepped towards him, forearms resting on his shoulders, entangling behind him.

Earlier, she’d had the privilege of styling him as he stood in front of their shared mirror, muttering complaints of how he had 'nothing to wear’. Now, she repeated maledictions to herself regarding the clothing she had chosen, in her head, as she admired the way his black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves - displaying intricate nerves shadowing his fingers and arms - and simultaneously unbuttoned temptingly low on his chest, exposing the silver chain presenting a small initial, hers. The summer night had made sure a thin veil of sweat coated his collarbones, glistening with his movements under the lamp light. “It’s not a surprising process though - I mean, after the year you’ve had, just look at how pretty you are,”

“Did you just-” he gulped, chuckling, “use the copious amounts of semi-resolved trauma I harbour to romance me?”

“I may have,” she whispered into the skin below his ear, both hands now tangled in his hair as he remained pressed up against the wall, grateful that every wound, fight and flaw had led them here. And she never ceased to make her gratitude known. Tonight, though, ever since she’d caught sight of his hand gripping a cold glass, the strong concoction presumably belonging to Luke, she hadn’t been able to stop envisioning his body on top of hers. Unbeknownst to her, his thoughts had been very similar from the second she’d chosen to wear the satin fabric, claiming it matched his shirt, while leaving very little to the imagination. “Y/N,” he spoke, his body involuntarily leaning into hers. “We can’t- Not now.” His body language betrayed his words. “I don’t study behaviour for a living, unlike everyone else here, but Spencer, right now, yours tells me we can,” she brought down a hand to squeeze his wrist, which was resting against her lower back. He couldn’t breathe. Tongue in cheek, he shook his head at her, a smirk breaking way. “You, my pretty lady, are something else,” he caved, switching their position in a more urgent manoeuvre than either of them anticipated. Spencer’s hands grasped her jaw, his breath fanning over her before his lips collided with hers, messily. A hand cradled the back of her head, heeding any impact with the wooden blockade behind her, fingers and hair tangling together. Her hands travelled along his body, pinky tugging on his necklace in pursuit of closeness, while her lips roamed around his bobbing Adam’s apple, eliciting an exquisite string of moans. Spencer’s leg wedged itself between hers, slowly grazing his thigh against her, using a firm grip to guide her hips downwards, her soft sighs and tugs at his roots only encouraging him.

The euphoria was short lived. A rapping on the library door tore them apart, its hinges creaking and giving way to an astounded looking Penelope Garcia. “Naughty!” she factitiously gasped. “I didn’t think the good doctor and his fine missus had it in them, but I was very, very wrong,”

“We were just-“ Y/N began, only to be cut off by the tipsy agent. “Save the excuses, beautiful lady. I was simply quested to find you two, and let you know that the rest of us are off to take a dip in the spa. Bring your boy toy, and scrumptious self, and join us ASAP - oh! And no funny business! There are children here,” Penelope gestured her two fingers away from her spectacles and towards each of them as a silent threat of ‘I’m watching you’. Y/N and Spencer exchanged a look, both flushed in different shades of red, on their way to creating a colour wheel. As Penelope spun on her heels and rushed to shut the door behind her, “Thank you, Penelope!” Y/N squeaked, Spencer exclaiming a timid “And sorry!” The two of them broke out into a fit of laughter, still frazzled. “I think I’m getting a little too comfortable with your team,” she grimaced, earning a laugh from the doctor. Later, as Spencer led her towards a bathroom, her arms occupied by a stack of towels, his hand on the small of her back, he dreaded the amount of self control he would need to invoke when the two of them would undress to change.

What she had said wasn’t entirely untrue. She was indeed very comfortable with his team. If Spencer could have met himself, a year ago, anxious to introduce who he was sure was the love of his life to his dearest friends, he would flick himself in the head. She, not alarmingly, managed to get along with everyone, almost better than he did. Somehow managing to find common ground, even with Aaron Hotchner. He recalls, one night, months ago, listening to her and the usually stoic man debate about which broadway production was better: The Producers or The Phantom of the Opera. Spencer also recalls exactly how riled up he became as he watched her put the ex-theatric-gone-lawyer in his place after calling upon Spencer for some Tony Award statistics. Admittedly, he actively needed to combat the green eyed monster on his back whenever she would go jogging with Luke - but the way she kissed him before leaving, on her tiptoes in her running shoes, whispering ‘I love you’, and ‘I’m really only going for Roxy’, helped. She had become family, the invisible stamp of approval having been silently awarded when they all saw the looks the two of them shared, the three subtle squeezes in their woven hands, and the way Spencer now smiled with his teeth - the way they way they would move the moon and the earth for one another.

Packed into the watery sauna, words exchanged between the group travelled into the atmosphere, a waxing gibbous eavesdropping overhead. She watched as Spencer squirmed across from her at the nearness to so many sweaty bodies, shoulders, elbows, knees and toes, belonging to anybody and everybody, poking him. Her eyes trailed along the dips and swells at the base of his neck, decorated in its usual, dainty, shimmering pendant, the bones there protruding as he slouched forward. Spencer’s hair was matted, condensation ironing chestnut ringlets to his forehead, complimenting his heated crimson cheeks. The butterflies returned, her stomach flipping as he ran his hand through the mop of curls to ease his discomfort. More of him - that was what she wanted. She hadn’t noticed, but she had been biting her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Pulling her back from her thoughts, a heavy exhale travelled past her left ear, changing the course of the steam emerging from the water - a stream of air enough to deflate a person, she noticed. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.” The blonde rested her head against the barrier of the tub, seeing bright patterns on her eyelids as they shut over her eyes momentarily. Y/N reached over and grasped one of her shoulders in a clinical manner. “Who are you, and what have you done with Jennifer and the gruelling tension in her neck and jaw?” She interrogated, lightheartedly. “What can I say? Stress is my middle name,” she chuckled. “While we’re on the topic, though... Maybe you could give me one of those trigger-point massages,” she opened one eye, an iris burning sapphire, the blue only rival to that of the one from The Tell Tale Heart, finding Y/N’s face. Retreating her hand, having made her point, she let out a laugh at JJ’s words, “I’m afraid that’ll cost y-” Y/N’s eyes widened at the familiar dialect of the words, a charlatan on JJ’s tongue. “Wait a minute, can you repeat what you just said, but slowly?”

“Oh, I know you heard me perfectly clear,” JJ smirked at her, eyebrows raising as her eyes shifted between the flustered woman and Spencer.

They had a friendship of unfamiliar closeness, which JJ cherished. After nights of babysitting turning into wining with Merlot and dining on flaming dreaded cheese puffs, stashed away in an airtight container, upon JJ’s arrival home, the two had grown close. The agent was grateful for conversation veering away from work, and for someone seeing her from a different lens; one through which she wasn’t fizzled down to a petrie dish of a mother through a workaholic microscope. Y/N was curious to know how her famous mandatory-Spencer-de-stressing-trigger-point massages had come up in conversation between JJ and her, now guilty looking, boyfriend. She crossed her fingers in hopes that he’d spared the details of the events that usually took place following the neck rubs - another kind of de-stressing altogether. “Do you guys hear that? I think Will’s calling me- and I should go put Henry to bed… It’s quite late…” she exaggerated, wearing a redolent expression as she slunk away with a towel around her cold frame. “We’ll talk later, Jareau,” she looked up at JJ, after the shivering woman squeezed her shoulders in a bid goodnight, waving to the small crowd. Swiftly, Y/N’s gaze met Spencer’s, her figure not having left his vision once.

The yard and small pool was clearing out, save for Luke and Tara bickering in the corner, so, through the bubbling water, she waded in Spencer’s direction, noticing the way he was evidently mentally undressing her. As if by his telepathy, a thin strap of her bathing suit slipped from its place, causing the gears in Spencer’s head to stop turning as he swallowed thickly. “Hey handsome, long time no speak.” A soft smile graced his lips, adoration for her evident, in place of his muted response. Wordlessly, he slipped a finger beneath the strap, tentatively putting it back in place, refusing to break eye contact in some unspoken play for power. “What’re you up to?” She squinted, wondering exactly what his motives were. “Nothing much,” he pulled her closer by the waist, whispering in a gravelly voice only she could hear, “I’m just thinking about how you didn’t get the chance to finish what you started, earlier,”

“Are you implying that you want me to…” she floated onto his lap, hands draping around his neck to steady herself, “pick up where we left off?” The question left her mouth in a breathy whisper, straight into his ear. He turned to look at her, unblinking. “I’m implying, that I’ve had those pretty noises you make replaying in my head all night, and that I’d like to hear them again,”

“Remind me, doctor, which one of us said ‘we can’t’?,” she mocked his whine, rolling her eyes back. “I have a better suggestion, how about you remind me which one of us struggled to stand the last time we played this game?” The calmness of his voice was the antithesis of the fire she was feeling inside her. Satisfied with her speechlessness, his eyes drifted down her body as she pried herself off him, settling in the plastic indent of a hot tub seat to his side. The attention of the pair of lovers were drawn to Tara’s laughter as she stepped into a robe, calling it a night. “What’d we miss?” Spencer’s clueless innocence returned, as if the words he’d spoken before were now out of mind. Devilishly, Tara responded, “Oh, you know, just me completely destroying this man’s ego,”

“Doesn’t take much does it?” Y/N offered Tara her fist in solidarity. “No it does not,” Tara chuckled, bumping it with her own. “You guys do realise that I’m right here?” Luke scoffed, also drying himself off. “I think that adds to their point?” Spencer offered, pursing his lips, amused. “Well, I’m going to go and catch some sleep, and maybe even shed a few tears over what’s been said about me,” he playfully scowled at Tara walking away, throwing a middle finger at him through the air without looking back. “Trust me, they are very professional,” Spencer promised, turning towards his only remaining company in laughter. “I’m sure they are,” she joked returning a smile.

The two of them talked beneath an ink sky, stars like pinpricks in a blanket twinkling through their conversation, until she found herself on Spencer’s lap, once again, the ambience shifting to something far more carnal. Throughout the night, like a band of elastic stretching between two fingers, the tension between them had heightened. Now, they both tested the limits, anticipating its snap. His chlorine skin tasted electric on her tongue as she painted his neck and chest with a lilac rendition of the silver initial dangling there, letting his sighs catch in the shells of her ears. Allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, his hands tightened around her waist. “Mhm, no, Y/N,” he spoke, regaining his fleeting conscience. “This,” — kiss — “is a bad,” — kiss — “idea,”

“Spencer, look,” she glanced over at the house, and his eyes followed suite, craning his neck slightly. “What do you see?” She asked. “Aside from a house bigger than my entire apartment complex?” Her face was a deadpan. “All the lights are out, Spencer,” she gave him a look that said, come on, profiler, figure it out. Not a single connection formed in his head as he stared at the way the luminous blue of the night time water cast ripples on her skin - skin which was all over his. “All the lights are out… It’s late… and everyone’s asleep,” he reasoned, more to himself than in response to her insinuation. “We have no real chance of getting caught, plus…” her dark eyes were obscured by the eyelashes sheltering them as she tilted her head. “Would it be so bad if we did?” Two of her fingers danced along his chest, walking towards the damp hair at the nape of his neck, using the strands to pull him closer. “Everyone knowing exactly how good you make me feel?” She purred the last part in his ear, tugging at the cartilage with her teeth. Spencer partially whimpered. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous boy. You sound as good as you taste.” His eyes shut as his head hit the rim of the spa - only briefly losing himself once her mouth was on him again. “Someone’s talking like they’re in charge,” he tilted her chin up towards him, forcing her eyes onto his own. “I seem to be the one doing all the work here,” she teased. He kissed each of her collarbones, eyes still trained on hers. “You shouldn’t speak so soon.” With that, he undid the top of her swim suit, exposing her chest to the frigid night air, compelling a gasp. “Truthfully, I’ve been thinking about doing this a majority of the night.” The bass in his voice reached her core. “For someone who is so fastidious about cleanliness, you sure have a dirty, dirty mind, doct-” She never had the chance to finish the honorific, his lips moulding around a hardening nipple, allowing his fingers to toy with the other. Rolling his tongue around the bud, he smiled to himself as he heard her call out his name, over and over, as if her voice was coming through a scratched vinyl. “Where’s all the talk from before?”

“You’re evil,” she groaned, her hips bucking against his board short clad body.

Spencers lips travelled along the valley of her breasts, only to hike back up them at a tantalising pace, prehensile fingers covering the ground his mouth couldn’t. Her hands grasped so tight in his hair, he was sure the strands would fall out. A groan of his own left vibrations reverberating through her body, causing her heart to jump. “Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he gnarred, as his hands gripped her wrists, holding them behind her back. With his unoccupied hand, he dipped his fingers into what was left of her apparel. “Is this all for me?” He smirked at the ease with which his fingers slipped over her. “Don’t flatter yourself, we’re in water,”

“You’re so impolite - even when I’m spoiling you,” tutted Spencer. Retroceding his hand, determined to leave her on edge, and her skin a mirror image of his, he continued to pin her fragile hands back against the base of her spine. “S-Spencer, please,” her words struggled to make any sense, “please, I need more,” she panted out, moving purposefully along the growing outline in his shorts. The pleasure was overwhelming. Spencer fiddled with the material still covering her, pulling it aside to make way for himself in between her legs. His eyes softened, silently seeking permission, even as she impatiently pulled down his waistband. When she nodded and eased his ailing with a soft, lingering kiss, he slowly pushed himself into her, never failing to be acutely attentive to her comfort as if it was their first time together. “This was what you were after?” Teased Spencer, his hips speeding up. “So badly,” she uttered out a sigh. “Then take it like you want it.” She craved his adept touch, and she made that known. “S- Spencer, oh god,” she groaned, “you feel so fucking good.” His breathing became heavier, softs grunts and hisses filling her ears with every movement. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, whining in a destitute way at the full feeling. At a slower pace, one of Spencer’s hands guided her hips along himself, while the other traced infinity on her sensitive nerves. “Sweet girl- fuck, you feel like a dream,” he moaned as she tightened around him. Her toes curled, the warm water of the pool splashing her bare skin. Spencer occupied all of her senses, the same way she did his. “I’m so close,” she whimpered, before he used his nose to nudge her face upwards, her momentarily open eyes reflecting constellations. Spencer kissed her once more. Her hands long freed from his grip, she left traces of herself in the form of tiny red sickles on his freckled back as her nails released some frustration.

Dragging her fingers along his torso, she felt the muscles of his stomach tighten, hers doing the same. Shaky sighs wavered from her lips at the bliss Spencer was providing. “Keep your eyes open for me, angel,” she tried her hardest to focus on his lustfully blown pupils. “That’s it. Just look at what you do to me,” he gasped out, head falling backwards, eye contact broken - only for a second - before he gulped and looked back at her. “You’re breathtaking,” she whispered, hoarsely, stroking his sweaty cheekbone with her thumb. She could recognise the golden gates of heaven in his eyes as he came undone inside her, warmth spilling over her in every aspect. The knots in her stomach loosened shortly after his, curses spilling from both of them. She rode him through his release, fond of the way he left light kisses on her temple, whispering compliments and confessions of love. Once he was sure she’d caught her breath, and some air had returned to his own lungs, he kissed her, gently, in the summer sauna heat, beneath the stars.

A loud cough startled the two. Stood in the open French doors of the veranda, scotch in hand, and eyes screwed shut, was David Rossi. Their minds were in the same place, wondering why they hadn't listened to Penelope’s drunken advice. “When you two are done, please remember to turn the tub lights off - and put the filter on high.” She hid herself in Spencer’s chest, heartbeat in her ears, contemplating holding her breath for a really, really long time. Spencer was flushed red, his own nose buried in her neck so as to not face the older man. “Or better yet, put some money together to buy me an entirely new spa,” Rossi, laughed, opening one eye to catch sight of Spencer giving him a shameful thumbs up. Even as Rossi wandered away, their embarrassment remained a fresh burn. Spencer groaned as her tired hand fumbled with his disastrous hair, “I don’t even want to begin thinking about how much of that he heard,”

“Or saw,”

“Don’t!”

“I’m never going to be invited here ever again, am I?”

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qwertyfingers · 4 years ago

Note

fic prompt: cas and jack talk about stimming

this got kinda long and is really more Dean and Jack talking, but it felt right, so! I hope you enjoy :)

“Do you ever get this feeling like there’s ants in your veins?”

Dean looks up at the sound of Jack’s muffled voice. He’s got an orange pen cap in his mouth, chewed all to hell, but the marker body’s nowhere in sight. He’s concentrating hard. That crease between his brows is all Cas.

Dean’s been attempting to work for an hour now, but mostly he’s been watching Cas out of the corner of his eye. Cas was concocting his latest craft project for him and Jack; some scrapbooking thing he’d read about on a homeschooling website. Dean was nervous about the presence of so much glue at his map table, but Cas had at least been nice enough to forgo the glitter this time.

“What do you mean?” Cas asks, and his face morphs into a perfect mirror of Jack’s frown; like father like son like father.

“You know, how sometimes you’re sitting still and you suddenly get itchy all over and feel like you need to run really fast or jump out of an airplane or something,” he says, matter-of-fact. Dean snorts.

“I can’t say I do know what you mean,” Cas says, frown deepening some. “Why don’t you tell us more about it.” He turns his frown toward Dean and makes a questioning gesture. Dean just shrugs.

“I don’t know if I can explain it better,” Jack answers, looking up from his book for the first time. “Sometimes I just feel sort of… agitated, and I have to do something physical or I can’t calm down. I was wondering if there was a word for that.”

Cas tilts his head quizzically. He’s squinting in that way he always has — face turned toward Jack’s, but eyes focused in a way that makes it look like he’s trying to examine all the particles of air between them.

“‘s called “stimming”, apparently,” Dean interjects, taking pity on Cas.

“Oh. I don’t think I’ve never heard that word before,” Cas replies, glancing over at him again, “what does it mean?”

Dean shifts in his seat awkwardly, legs bouncing up and down jerkily. “I don’t know the exact definition but the word comes from, um, ‘stimulating’ I think? It’s used for stuff that makes you feel good or calms you down when you do it, like uh, movement or whatever.”

“I didn’t know you knew much about this .” Cas says, and there’s a ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth, fond.

Jack looks up, interested, and in distraction starts colouring the back of his own hand.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived it for long enough,” Dean flushes lightly as he speaks, and his voice comes out in a rushed mumble, “also Sam kinda forced me to read a book about it last year. ‘cause he’s a doof.”

He’d been annoyed about it at the time, but, well Sam hadn’t exactly been wrong — he had learned a lot. But mostly it had been like putting names to old faces. Learning the scientific reason for why Sam hates the texture of acrylic sweaters enough that he’d tried to set fire them in his teens doesn’t really help Dean, and Dean had never needed a reason to justify Sam’s decision not to wear ‘em.

He still made fun of him for it, mind. The image of Sam hunched over behind an empty planter outside a shitty motel trying to start a fire with a broken bic lighter and two sticks was one that Dean would retain and until the end of his days. He might tell it as part of Sam’s best man speech, now that he thinks of it.

“So is it – is it stimming when I want to spin around in circles for a long time?” Jack’s stopped colouring, capping his marker, and his now unoccupied hands are twisting about in the air at high speed. “Or when I go and run through the field?”

Dean nods in response.

“And when you hold your arm out of the car to feel the wind? Is that the same thing?”

“Pretty much, Jacko,” Dean says, and leans over to ruffle Jack’s hair. “This is too,” he says, pointing to Jack’s rambling hands.

“Huh. That’s cool,” Jack says. He sounds sincere, but then he’s eyes go distant and he squints at the table. “I’m going to go and play minecraft now, thank you Dad. And Dean. And Dad.” He says, waving, then takes off at speed. He stops in the doorway to throw out “I want pasta for dinner, if that’s okay!” and then he’s gone.

Dean laughs and takes a swig of his drink as he focuses back in on the work he was pretending to do earlier. “Good kid,” he mumbles to himself. Dean always found conversations like this more than a little stressful, but he’d managed to get through this one without screwing anything up, at least.

After a moment, he senses eyes on himself, and turns to see Cas still offering him that fond look of his.

“Thank you, for that.” Cas reaches out a hand and places it on Dean’s bouncing thigh, and it goes still.

“Ah, it ain’t no thing, Cas.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,” he says, and raises a defiant eyebrow at Dean. Dean just shrugs and starts his reading back up.

His leg doesn’t start twitching again until Cas takes his hand away..

#spn fic #dad dean tag #jack kline

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mimi-cee-hq · 4 years ago

Text

Every Season - Kyoutani x Reader

Pairing: Kyoutani x f!Reader

Summary: Kyoutani finally introduces Y/n to the team. When they all comment on how he got such a sweet and innocent girlfriend, Kyoutani lets out a snort. A cute and funny getting together story of different kisses throughout the years and seasons.

Genre and Tropes: Cute childhood friends fluff!

Words: 2,218

This is for the July HQWN monthly prompt event. I'm using the International Kissing Day prompt.

Author's Notes: This is a match-up story for an anon. Thanks to @kingkags for beta reading the first half of the story. :)

To anon, I don't think I captured your personality very well because I only write PG. loll. I tried to keep the main aspects of your description, so I hope you still like it. >.<

*****

“I still can’t believe that’s Mad Dog’s girlfriend.”

There were crackles from the meat cooking at the neighbouring table. Y/n lit the barbeque for their own table as she welcomed them. The entire team was curious to see what sort of girl Kyoutani was dating so Yahaba and Watari decided on her family's restaurant when they organized a graduation party for the third years.

Y/n smiled at the boys, “What would you like to order?”

The large bow in her hair bounced as she nodded, taking their orders. After she went through the list she wrote, confirming their preferences, she pushed up her round glasses with her knuckles before she left to process the order.

After Oikawa finished gawking at her, he turned to Kyoutani and asked, “How the heck did you end up with such a sweet and innocent girlfriend?”

Kyoutani, just when he was about to sip his drink, let out a snort instead. They were lucky. If the drink was in his mouth, it would have ended up in their faces.

*****

A tiny young girl stood in front of Kyoutani in the living room of her house. “Kyoutani, this is Y/n,” her mother introduced her to the five-year-old boy.

Y/n gave him a sweet smile and waved at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyo-chan.” The black bow in her hair slightly shifted as she gave him a small polite nod.

Kyoutani jumped back a couple of feet, clutching his mom’s shirt once he was at her side. He gave a low growl as he glared at her. He had a feeling he should be weary of her.

“Ooo,” Y/n cooed. “Can we keep him?” she asked her mom, giggling.

“What?”

“He’s so cute!” Y/n told her. “He’s like a puppy!”

“He’s not a dog!” Y/n’s mom scolded her.

Kyoutani continued to scowl at Y/n. When his mom left his side, he tensed up, and retreated to the far side of a couch. He gritted his teeth and sat with all fours on a cushion, not allowing his eyes to leave Y/n’s even as their mothers walked out of the room.

Y/n ran to her well-worn toy box and stuck her head in. After she searched through it, she told him, “Look, Kyo-chan!” She held up a bright red leaf. “I have one for you too!” she said, revealing a second one. She continued to share about how she picked them up a few days ago when she marvelled at the trees turning into various shades of reds, yellows, and oranges.

Kyoutani, with his hands still tense, inched closer towards Y/n. Once beside her, he took the leaf from her hand. Staring at the intricate veins on the red leaf, he noted that it was whole and not bent or damaged. His eyes grew as he stared in awe, his scowl finally disappearing and his eyebrows relaxed.

“It’s pretty—,” he started to say. But just as he tilted his head up to look at Y/n, her face was right in front of his. And then she stole a kiss from him.

She giggled.

Kyoutani jumped back, cheeks red and ears flaring. Seeing his reaction, Y/n fell on the floor laughing.

Clenching his teeth, he knew he should have trusted his instincts and shouldn’t have let his guard down. He wouldn’t be tricked again.

“Mommy! Kyo-chan bit me!”

*****

“It’s your turn,” Kyoutani told Y/n with a smirk. He was one pair of cards ahead of her in their game of Go Fish, but she didn't give up yet.

Y/n’s mom was watching the two kids play through the opened sliding door to their backyard. A cool spring breeze would sometimes enter the kitchen as she prepared some kimchi for a future meal. She could see the two sitting on an outdoor mat as they continued taking turns removing a card from the other’s hand.

Now at eight-years-old, Kyoutani would often be at Y/n’s house whenever his parents needed a babysitter. He still didn’t exactly like Y/n, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

At first he wouldn’t even talk to her. He would sit at the couch, cautious of Y/n’s every move, waiting for his parents to come back. But Y/n’s parents were kind to him. They noticed Kyoutani’s discomfort so sometimes her dad would take him out of the house. Some days it would be for ice cream. Other days they’d grab a burger. He even brought Kyoutani to a volleyball game once. But over this past year, Kyoutani finally got along with Y/n - or at least enough to get through a couple of games.

Kyoutani eyed at the two cards in Y/n’s hand, wearing his perpetual scowl. He licked his lips just before he grabbed a card from Y/n. He placed his pair of cards on the mat with a smirk. He won.

“You cheated!” Y/n accused him. Kyoutani rolled his eyes, accustomed with Y/n’s inability to lose. “I demand a rematch!”

“Hmph,” Kyoutani crossed his arms, scowling as he looked away.

Y/n’s mom sighed and shook her head. “When are they finally going to get along,” she commented to herself.

“We do get along!” Y/n told her mom. As if to prove her point, she quickly leaned towards Kyoutani to give him a peck on his cheek.

He flinched and shuffled away from Y/n, grimacing at her gesture. She laughed at his reaction as usual.

“What did I tell you about kissing Kyoutani!” her mom scolded her. “You’re torturing the poor boy!”

“But I only kissed his cheek this time!”

As Y/n continued to argue with her mom, Kyoutani attempted to scratch the cooties off his cheek, unaware of the red hue on his face.

*****

Kyoutani got out of bed after hearing pebbles tapping his bedroom window. He pushed the curtains open to see Y/n below, standing in front of his house. After nearly seven years of knowing her, she still does things that he could never predict. He groaned as he watched her breathe into her palms and rub them together. There was no snow on the ground, yet it was cold enough to see her breath. Y/n wore earmuffs which matched the signature black bow in her hair.

When he let her in, she threw off her scarf and earmuffs, letting out a big yawn before curling up on his living room couch.

“Why are you here when you're so tired?” Kyoutani asked her.

“I stayed up last night to finish up that history project with Kimiko,” she replied, not quite answering his question. “I shouldn’t have paired up with her,” she laughed. “She thought I was smart because I worked hard. But I thought she was smart because she hung out with the smart kids.”

Kyoutani smirked, taking a seat at her feet as she lay on the couch.

“Turns out we both share a brain cell,” she giggled. “Kimiko is fun but she’s too much of a clown. We get so distracted when we’re together. I don't know if we'll get an A." She groaned. "Remind me to never do a project with her again.”

“Never do a project with her again,” Kyoutani plainly told her with a smirk.

Y/n rolled her eyes and then jabbed his side with her toes. Kyoutani jerked away from her feet and shoved them away.

Y/n sat up beside him and hugged her legs. She turned to look at him and said, “Don’t you wish we were in the same class so we could study together?”

Kyoutani feigned disgust at the thought.

“Hm?” she prodded as she batted her eyes at him. When she leaned in closer to him, pretending to kiss him, Kyoutani pushed her face away with his whole palm. She pouted, then got up to finally open the paper gift bag she brought with her.

“I have something for you.” She pulled out her notebook, pieces of coloured paper peeking out of the edges. She stood in front of him, revealing the notebook’s cover. Y/n had pasted together a picture of the two of them with the words “Happy 12th birthday” written underneath in her handwriting.

Kyoutani blinked a couple of times, not knowing what to say. His shoulders relaxed, still staring at the scrapbook.

“I know it’s still a few hours until your birthday, but I didn’t want to miss it—”

Kyoutani wrapped his arms around her. He felt her tense up before she started to pat his head.

Kyoutani had a rough day. He heard his teammates talking behind his back again. He didn't care to be their friends, but he at least longed for a team where he felt like he was wanted.

Y/n kissed his hair and hugged his head. Kyoutani sighed, deciding this was enough for now. He could be a lone wolf with volleyball knowing he didn't have to be one with her.

*****

Textbooks, pens and notebooks covered the kitchen table. Y/n dropped her head on her notes, exhausted from studying.

“I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit,” she told Kyoutani. “Wake me up if I actually fall asleep.”

“Why don’t you just go home?” he replied as he scrunched his brows, still glaring at the words in his textbook.

“Because I'll fail the test tomorrow.”

Kyoutani glanced at Y/n, her necklace catching his eye. Its pendant dangled as she stirred with her eyes still closed.

“Where’s your uniform's bow?”

“I threw it out.”

“What?”

“I know,” she yawned. “But it doesn't match this bow,” she said, pointing to her hair. “And I like this necklace.”

“Whatever.” Kyoutani didn’t bother. He knew the teachers would let her get away with it anyway. Even if they asked about her modification, she would just claim she lost it.

Kyoutani checked his phone. It was July 6, one of the days Y/n used as an excuse to flirt with him. He frowned, knowing that lately, he wasn't the only person she teased.

They entered high school that year. With new faces, students were eager to get to know each other. Some looked to make new friends while others searched for dating potentials. So there was one guy who made a pass on Y/n, and as they got to know each other, Y/n started to tease and flirt with him too.

Whenever Kyoutani saw them together, he shoved the guy aside and took Y/n with him. Y/n would prod him, asking if he was jealous. He denied it every time. He knew she wasn't serious when she flirted. She just liked getting a reaction.

Like with him.

He sighed at his unrequited feelings, pondering the pointlessness of them. It was pathetic. Gazing at Y/n shut eyelids, he wondered if he should put his feelings to rest too.

“I’m awake!” Y/n exclaimed, popping her head up and causing Kyoutani to flinch. He relaxed when she plopped her head back on the table. She turned to Kyoutani, staring at him. Kyoutani blinked a few times, wondering if she was going to say something. She did.

“Kyo-chan, you’re so pretty.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes, knowing she was in her loopy mode and definitely too sleepy. “You should go home now.”

“Noooo~ I don’t want to.”

He rubbed his head, not knowing what to do with her. “Ugh, just go already,” he complained, grabbing her arm.

“But I want to stay with you,” she replied. He scoffed, shoving her arm back to her, before she continued. “I love you, Kyo-chan.”

Kyoutani choked up a bit. Did she really mean that? He studied her eyes, realizing she was serious. But his doubts still lingered, hesitant to reply.

He went for it. He didn't care anymore. He took this opening, hoping to keep his feelings alive and awake.

So he swooped in to give her a deep kiss, finally releasing the months - no, probably years - of longing for her. And she returned it.

After they broke apart, she commented with a smirk, "Did you remember it was international kissing day?"

"No, I forgot," he lied, going for another kiss.

*****

"I can't believe Yahaba got sick and missed this," whispered Oikawa.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi replied with a smirk. "He was the one who was curious about her the most."

Kyoutani watched Y/n as she came back to their table. She took the seat beside him and snuggled up against him when he placed his arm around her. She puckered her lips, asking for a kiss. Kyoutani gave a snort and rolled his eyes. But upon seeing her frown, he decided to give her a peck anyway.

"Ewww...," Hanamaki teased them.

"PDA! PDA!" Matsukawa chanted.

Kyoutani glared at them while Y/n giggled at his reaction like usual.

*****

Bonus/ Preview

Their team's manager fidgeted at the table, glancing at her wrist after scanning the restaurant. "Kindaichi," she whispered, nudging him. "Where's Kunimi?"

"He said his mom needed him for something."

"Oh," was all that came out of her lips. It seemed like she would have to wait until the new school year to see him again.

*****

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked it. :) I can't believe I was able to make a cute story for Kyoutani. lollll.

Also, their team manager is Y/n from WWYTF SMAU (completed) and Kimiko is Y/n from my Yahaba fic. Now a bunch of my fics are in the same world because I thought it would be fun. lol! (FYI, that wasn't the real reason why Kunimi wasn't there.)

*****

Matchup request description from anonymous: (For the longest time, I didn't know what to do with this. lol. I'm sorry I took so long to write this.)

Hi ^^ I like your writing and saw you were taking match up requests. I'm a small korean girl under 5ft. I have black wavy hair that is barely above my shoulders but I tie it back half up half down style with a black bow uwu. I also have wispy bangs with a round face and a small nose. I have round circle glasses that fall down cause of my small nose. In my spare time I do art. I usually paint, scrapbook, and edit. If I'm with friends I play card games but I get kinda competitive 💫

💫When I get comfortable with someone I start to become more of myself. In school I work really hard so people assume I'm smart. I also watch my words so people think I'm sweet and innocent. That's the complete opposite with my friends. I tend to flirt with them so I end up saying sexual things. And I won't hesitate to put my friends in pain by speaking uwu. With my 0 braincells I decided I would do anything almost anything for the aesthetic. Breaking dress code is one of them. 💫

Taglist: @dorkyama @the-black-birb @hqprotectionsquad @nagichi-kenma @moonaaluna @muffins-puffins (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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otonymous · 4 years ago

Text

Kissed By The Baddest CEO (MLQC Victor x KBTBB - NSFW)

Description: Old flames and prospective lovers threaten to derail your budding romance with Victor before it even begins. How will you extricate yourselves from a web of misunderstandings?

Warnings:

NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Potential Trigger Warnings: profanity, jealousy, angst, exes, mentions of alcohol, bone fetishes, rough sex, 69 sex position (oral sex), mirror sex, vaginal intercourse, swallowing, size kink

Mild spoilers for Victor’s family history (MLQC); slight bending of MLQC & KBTBB canon universes via creation of original side character

Word Count: ~10K words (please set aside a good chunk of time for some fluff, angst and smut 🤣)

Author’s Notes:

First of all, a GIANT thank you to the super gracious @lin-ful for commissioning this Victor piece from me. You are an absolute joy to work with and I really appreciate the fact that you gave me carte blanche to basically do whatever I wanted 🤣 I really hope you enjoy the read! (P.S. I would never be so sadistic as to ever make you choose between Victor and Eisuke, so please rest easy 😆)

This story is especially significant to me as a writer because it represents the culmination of a number of milestones: the first time I’ve created an original character, my first attempt at writing a crossover story, the first time I’ve written in both first- and second-person perspectives. It is also the longest single piece I’ve ever written. That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

Nb. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1: Hello Diana

“Really Vic, I thought you were beyond name calling by now.”

Her voice is sultry and low, smooth in your ears like the whiskey in her tumbler. Completely at ease in a couture Givenchy pantsuit that likely cost more than one of your production budgets, she sat with her legs elegantly crossed in a leather armchair, tipping her glass to vermillion lips. And as the flames danced in the imposing marble fireplace of one of Shanghai’s oldest and most exclusive supper clubs, they reflected off an enormous ruby ring gracing her middle finger.

Victor scoffs, taking a sip of his own whisky and glancing at you as you follow suit with the virgin cocktail he ordered on your behalf while you were in the restroom.

He was so infuriating at times, but at least it wasn’t warmed milk.

“First of all, you weren’t meant to hear that. Secondly, I hardly consider ‘dummy’ name calling. Far worse exists when it comes to options, as I'm sure you can attest to, Diana. You’ve used quite a few in your day.”

Amusement spreads across her fine features as she throws her head back in laughter, the sound enticing even as it disrupts the low chatter in the room. However, none of the men looking her way seemed to mind. She was brimming with so much joie de vivre that even you weren’t immune to her charms, smiling despite the anxiety that sat heavy in your chest from the very moment Victor introduced you to Diana Shum that evening.

You didn’t quite know why you felt ill at ease, especially towards someone who was doing you a favour by brokering a major deal on behalf of your company. Well, more like doing Victor a favour, since he was the one who made the request. Perhaps this was how all men felt in the presence of such a woman: elegantly confident and unapologetically vivacious, drawing attention everywhere she went.

“Are you still dredging up stories from our Oxford days, Victor? Not very gentlemanly of you. How do you put up with him?” Diana turns to wink at you and the spotlight of her attention makes you feel like the only other person in the room. “Let me assure you those boys deserved every insult in the book; one-track minds and transparent to boot. They should consider themselves lucky I even acknowledged their sad existence.”

“Di, you made the Prime Minister’s son cry. You should’ve seen those puffy eyes the next morning at the swim meet against Cambridge."

Victor raises his brows, subtle amusement colouring his expression. And simple though it was, the sight of his handsome face so transformed by the faint smile on his lips made your heart race.

No, there’s no way. It’s probably just the fatigue catching up to you. The flight to Shanghai from Loveland City must’ve been more taxing than you initially thought, even though Victor had graciously offered to let you hitch a ride on his private jet. You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm the frenzied rhythm of your heart. The gesture goes unnoticed by Diana but Victor throws a worried glance in your direction. You smile to ease his concerns. He furrows his brows.

“Oh please, I should’ve ripped him a new one with the way he tried to get frisky on our date. He’s lucky I didn’t call Soryu to deal with him and his wandering hands.”

A sudden change seeps into Victor’s eyes, dark irises softening as if focused on something miles away. “Soryu. How is your cousin doing, by the way?”

Diana leans back, taking another sip of her drink. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough. I take it you are accompanying this lovely producer to Tokyo to meet with Eisuke and wherever the Ichinomiya heir is, Soryu isn’t far behind. In all honesty though, Vic, surely you would know better than I. Weren’t the three of you thick as thieves during prep school?”

You perk up at the topic of Victor’s childhood. It was a rare chance to learn about the formative years of this stone-faced man before he became the slave driver of Loveland Financial Group.

“I was only there for a year and a half with Soryu and Eisuke before…before my mother passed. My father sent for me shortly afterwards. I haven't seen them since.”

Deep voice trailing off, Victor’s gaze shifts to the fireplace where it remains, as if hypnotized by the flicker of orange flames. And as the silence stretches on, you become disconcerted to see him so uncharacteristically lost in his thoughts. You reach out to touch him but Diana beats you to it, laying a delicate hand on top of his much larger one as it rests on the leather armrest.

The gesture is ridiculously small for how much it blindsides you — the sight of her hand on Victor’s dazzling like the light reflecting off her ruby ring.

He blinks at the touch, long lashes fluttering in the split-second it takes for him to compose himself and suddenly, the unflappable CEO is back again.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and we should probably call it a night. But you have my thanks, Diana, for setting up this meeting with the Ichinomiya Group.”

It was Diana’s turn to scoff. “Can we please dispense with the formalities, Victor? Soryu mentioned Eisuke was having difficulty finding the right people to make this documentary on the anniversary of his Tres Spades Tokyo hotel, so it was serendipity that we bumped into each while on business in London. It’s a win-win situation. Meant to be.”

Meant to be.

There is a spark of something in Diana’s eyes when she makes that last statement. It stays with you long after you part ways with Victor for the night, lying awake in your hotel room as you wondered whether the LFG CEO was already asleep in his.

Chapter 2: SOS

“You’re awfully quiet. Should I take this to mean that you already know everything about Eisuke Ichinomiya and his chain of luxury hotels?"

Victor speaks without raising his head, leafing through the documents on his lap and stopping periodically to leave his signature with the same gold pen that marked up your reports. Its barrel glowed warm, reflecting the soft lights of the cabin of his private jet, en route to Tokyo from Shanghai.

Letting out a shaky breath, you try to steel yourself despite the rising heat in your cheeks. Because after a night spent tossing and turning in your hotel room, you arrived at a conclusion so absurd it could only be true:

You were in love with Victor Li.

Against all odds, the bane of your life had become your biggest ally and mentor. All the pieces of the square puzzle that was the LFG CEO had fallen into place to form one coherent and beautiful picture:

His exacting demands transformed into standards of excellence, his workaholism a paragon of commitment and dedication.

And though you were loathe to admit it, each soft utterance of “dummy” leaving his lips made the corners of yours turn up in the goofiest of grins.

Oh god, how did it ever come to this?! Where and when along the rocky path of your working relationship with the slave driver did you fall in love with him? But that wasn’t even the worst of it. If your intuition about the previous night’s events served you well, the beautiful Diana Shum was also enamoured of him.

You turn to Victor, meaning to inform him with utmost confidence that you had already conducted extensive research on the Ichinomiya Group’s charismatic CEO and his chain of casino hotels. You even thought to throw in a snarky reminder that he himself had been marginally impressed with the presentation you gave on the topic back in Loveland City.

“Are you close to Diana Shum?”

Was NOT what had you meant to ask. Especially in a voice that cracked like a 12 year old pubescent boy’s. And if there was a way by which you could’ve drowned in a bottle of water, you would’ve gladly done so. Instead, you settle for gulping it down, trying to keep your stupid mouth from spewing more nonsense in front of the man who was your de facto boss.

“Ahem.” Victor clears his throat, long legs uncrossing as he shifts in his seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the muscles of that chiseled jaw settling firm.

“I-I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to answer-"

“I’ve known her for a while, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s a classmate from university and also a cousin of a friend of mine from prep school, as you’ve probably gathered from yesterday’s conversation. Since graduation, she’s taken over her father’s role as CEO of Shum Property Developments and we’ve partnered periodically on various business ventures…”

He continues and you nod at the appropriate times, half listening as a million thoughts filtered through your head: your surprise at how unusually verbose Victor was being, the relief you felt to see that he was as determined to avoid your gaze as you were his. Because the truth was that the longer he went on about Diana — so beautiful, polished and charming that you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her even if you tried — the harder it was to keep the clouds from darkening your face. And when Victor says,

“Not like it has any bearing on anything now, but we also dated for a short period of time…”

…It hurts to breathe.

Finally turning in your direction, Victor fixes you with a scrutinizing gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, um, I just…wanted to know a bit more about the person who helped me and my company. So I can better thank her later.”

You speak without meeting his eyes, hoping to placate him with a quick smile as you pretend to rummage through your purse. Thankfully, he drops the topic, returning to his documents. And though the rest of the plane ride is spent in near silence, the thoughts in your head have never been so loud.

Chapter 3: Sexy Bones [Victor]

She wore that dress today. The same one she had on when she impudently stormed my office to insist that I give her company a final chance before pulling funding:

Fitted to conform to every curve, yet formal enough to be professional. Beautifully sensual in her usual understated way. My favourite shade of red.

“It’s my go-to outfit when I need a confidence boost,” she told me once in between bites of pudding at Souvenir. “It makes me feel like a queen, like I can do no wrong. Perfect for business meetings I just have to nail, you know?”

“Dummy,” I had said then, feigning dismissiveness so she wouldn’t pick up on the way my eyes kept drifting towards her lips, so soft and plush I couldn’t help but wonder if her kisses would carry a hint of caramel sweetness.

It was true that the girl could be incredibly dense at times, playing at being queen when she already ruled my heart. Or how oblivious she was to the fact that the British doctor was completely smitten with her during today’s meeting at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel.

Dr. Luke Foster.

Completely absorbed in reading through what looked to be like a stack of medical journals, Dr. Foster had largely ignored us while Eisuke and Soryu made quick work of introducing the eclectic mix of other associates in the room:

Ota Kisaki, the so-called “Angelic Artist” whose work I was well-acquainted with, having previously spent a small fortune on his painting, Koro of My Kokoro.

Baba Mitsunari, a charming man whose handsome features were made all the more striking by the black fedora and red suit he wore. The girl pointed out that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the cashier we saw at a convenience store earlier that day and I had to agree.

They glossed over a man named Mamoru Kishi, apparently sound asleep in one corner of the room with his face covered by a newspaper and a full ashtray by his side.

Finally, they came to Luke Foster, a blond-haired man with the air of an English gentleman. Eisuke explained that Dr. Foster was the hotel’s on-site physician as well as a fellow alumnus of our prep school, apparently having left for reasons no one wanted to articulate the year before I transferred in.

And when the doctor finally looked up at us from his readings, his eyes took on an almost maniacal quality to see the girl standing by my side.

“Those proportions, those angles….perfect…absolutely perfect!” He exclaimed as if in a daze, standing up suddenly and causing the reading materials to spill from his lap in the process.

He looked completely unhinged, almost like a zombie as he reached out a pale hand towards her collarbones of all places. I stepped in front of her on reflex, only to have the doctor fix me with a piercing gaze as if he had just become aware of my existence and found it thoroughly offensive.

“Annnnd there he goes again,” Ota’s tone was one of exasperation, but there was no mistaking the amusement in the smirk that spread wide across his face.

“Ooh, Lu’s got a new victim! Maybe now he can finally stop staring at the Boss’s girl every time she comes in to clean the penthouse!” Baba chimes in, fingers stroking at his chin as if hatching some mischievous plan.

“Will the lot of ya shaddup!? I’m tryin’ to sleep over here…zzz…” The man with the papers over his head gave a muffled shout before promptly rolling over onto his side.

Soryu just sighed, running a hand over his face. And just when I began to worry that the girl was scared out of her wits, having wandered into this strange den of wolves, she surprised me by chuckling under her breath.

Did the dummy find this funny?

“Tch, ignore them, Victor. Let’s just get on with the presentation,” Eisuke said as he took his seat at the head of a long table. The girl straightened up and immediately got to work, transforming into the consummate professional she always was when it came down to business. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I watched her nail her pitch.

Taking a surreptitious glance around at her rapt audience, I stopped at Luke. The intensity of the doctor's stare made me uneasy, the way those blue-grey eyes hovered above the scooped neckline of her red dress, tracing along her collarbones as if he were caressing them with his gaze alone. I mentally berated myself for not putting my suit jacket over her shoulders before she got up there.

And though it was spoken under his breath, Dr. Foster’s murmur of “sexy bones” rang loud and clear in my ears.

Chapter 4: In A (Traffic) Jam [Victor]

“Victor, you won’t believe my luck! Not only did we cinch the Ichinomiya account, I also found the perfect candidate to appear on our Mystery Finder show!”

The girl was practically breathless on the other end of the line, words jumbling together as they came a mile a minute. And though her enthusiasm is as infectious as it is adorable, I remind myself to play it cool. “Really. And who might that be?”

“Dr. Foster!”

HONK!

I swerve back into my lane on reflex, narrowly avoiding an accident as the driver next to me flips me the bird before speeding away. My heart raced, beating fiercely against the cage of my chest, but it had little to do with my near brush with death.

At this moment, I was more concerned with a man who looked like Death himself.

“Oh my god, Victor, what was that? Are you okay?” The concern in her voice is palpable and it makes me think of how kind and tenderhearted she is, of how easily someone could exploit that to their advantage. “This is a bad time, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I’ll call you ba-”

“Don’t worry about it, just some idiot not paying attention on the road. And what's this about, ahem, Dr. Foster?" The name itself was unsavoury, sticking in my throat until I spat it out. I hoped the vitriol escaped her notice.

“Okay Victor, get this: it’s like the man has X-ray vision!”

She whispers for dramatic effect, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel as I picture those slate grey eyes sweeping over the curves of her body, a lewd expression falling over the doctor’s features. He was a handsome enough man, that much was true; intelligent and a first-rate surgeon according to Eisuke and Soryu. Goldman confirmed as much when I had him dig up all available information on Luke Foster. On that basis alone, many women would find him to be an extremely attractive suitor and ludicrous though it is, I can’t help but think the worst. Luke had been quite open in his admiration of her, especially her collarbones. What if she returned the sentiment?

In retrospect, it was a horrible idea to leave her to her work (and that wolf) in Tokyo while I returned to mine in Loveland City. While she had the company of her coworkers, clearly none of them sensed the danger in Luke Foster that I did. I no longer had the right to call her a dummy when I was obviously the idiot here.

“I’m telling you Victor, he can just look at somebody and tell you everything about their bone structure. It’s too accurate to just be guesswork! Apparently, he can remember anyone he's ever laid eyes on based on their bones. It’s incredible. I’d love for Professor Lucien to meet him. If only he had the time to fly out to Tokyo…”

The girl continues and I catch sight of my furrowed brows in the rear-view mirror, deepening the longer she goes on and on about men who weren’t me.

“…He’s already agreed to be a guest on the show! But…he did make a rather strange request."

For a moment, I can barely breathe. The skin over my knuckles blanches as it stretches tight, my grip on the wheel growing harder as I brace for unwelcome news. God knows what she would’ve agreed to in my absence. Filled with a sense of dread, I had to know all the same. “Which was?…”

She pauses, the hitch in her breath subtle but speaking volumes nonetheless.

“Just say it, dummy.” I soften my tone in encouragement though my mind was already racing, thinking of all the ways my legal team could dissolve a contract should the girl have already signed papers.

“Well, he…he asked if he could examine my body in lieu of payment for appearing on the show. You should’ve seen him! He was so desperate he was practically begging and I…I just couldn't say no."

MOTHERFUCK!

Chapter 5: Role Model

“STUPID VICTOR LI!”

You had meant to throw the rolled-up magazine in dramatic rock star fashion, sending it flying across your suite at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel to give at least a resounding smack as it hits the wall. Instead, it flutters to the carpeted floor, barely a few feet from where you lay sprawled out on a bed much too large for a single person.

And from the surface of that glossy cover, Victor’s handsome face — all sharp eyes and chiseled jaw - staring up at you from beneath a headline that read: "Man On Top: How Victor Li Conquered The Business World.”

Man on top. What a tease if there ever was one — especially since you’ve developed the recent habit of falling asleep to the fantasy of having the broad expanse of Victor’s muscular chest hovering over you.

“The only thing he should be on top of is ME!”

Your voice echoes in the room, empty save for you. Even still, your cheeks burned from embarrassment over the absurdity of your current situation. Victor Li didn’t belong to you. Not when he had someone like Diana in his life.

Victor and Diana. Diana and Victor. A perfect match regardless of how the pieces fit. And for an instant, your anger flares to remember the nonchalance in Victor’s voice when he told you that their past history as lovers had no bearing on the present, as if they didn’t look like they belonged together when you saw them just now in the lobby of the hotel, moments after you purchased the magazine with Victor’s face gracing the cover from one of the shops.

Practically ecstatic in your surprise to see him there at the Tres Spades, you were just about to call out to him when his name died in your throat, choked by the sight of the woman at his side. Victor was escorting Diana to a limo waiting just beyond the revolving doors. And the last thing you saw before the chauffeur pulled away was the two of them slipping into the vehicle together.

He hadn’t even told you he was coming to Tokyo.

It was only after you became aware of the fact that you were blocking the entrance to the shop that you recovered from the shock, murmuring apologies as you pulled yourself together just enough to make your way back to the safety of your hotel room.

Rising up off the bed, your feet sink into the lush carpeting as you pad over to where the magazine lay. You pick it up and smooth out the crinkles, fingers tracing the outline of Victor’s profile as you do — gentle, as if you were touching the man himself. And when your nose begins to tingle, you know it won’t be long before you feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“Think you could stop being so nice to me, Victor? You’ll give a girl the wrong impression.”

Heaving a sigh, you slip the magazine beneath a pillow on the bed. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told you it was almost time for your dinner date with Dr. Foster. Sitting around moping wasn’t an option, at least not tonight. Lightly slapping your cheeks, you push the image of Victor and Diana out of your head and get ready to step into the shower.

Chapter 6: Hard To Swallow [Victor]

“I’m glad you remembered that you owe me a dinner, Victor Li. And though I practically had to drag you to this restaurant, I guess the means don’t really matter if the end result is the same. But still, what a lucky coincidence that we bumped into each other again at the Tres Spades of all places. Now that’s something to drink to.”

Diana holds up her glass, Cabernet Sauvignon swirling as it meets mine with a delicate clink. Under the table, the tip of her stiletto pushes against my oxfords before sliding past my ankle, inching its way up my leg. I pull away, watching those red lips spread into a smile as I do.

“You might be the first man who’s ever been able to resist me. Has anyone ever told you you’re one stubborn asshole?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She laughs at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down. “So, tell me about her.”

“Her?” I focus on cutting into my Kobe beef, already aware that Diana will see through my bluff. She always did.

“Surely there must be another woman if you keep turning me down over and over again, Victor. A girl has her pride too, you know.”

“We are not getting back together, Diana.”

“Tsk, you’re no fun, Vic. All work and no play, all the time. I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time I start entertaining thoughts of calling you up again.”

She pouts, but it isn’t long before her eyes take on that familiar spark of mischief as she continues.

“But seriously, tell me about your cute little producer. That is the girl you keep rejecting me for, I presume. I need to know about the woman who’s finally managed to infiltrate the entirety of Victor Li’s notoriously impenetrable heart. She must be quite the lover if she’s got you wrapped around her little finger like that, pulling strings with all your friends left, right and centre.”

It annoys me to no end that the mere mention of the girl is enough to reduce me to a swooning idiot. I fight to keep the smile off my face.

“You’ve got the wrong idea. She’s not my lover.”

Diana begins to protest, but her words are lost on me because I’ve stopped listening. In fact, the only thing I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, propelled by the adrenaline racing through my veins to see him enter the restaurant.

Dr. Luke Foster.

WITH MY DUMMY, NO LESS.

And my dummy looks…absolutely gorgeous. Her hair is done up, leaving her graceful neck and collarbones exposed in a little black dress I’ve never seen her wear before, I realize with not an insignificant amount of jealousy.

But wait…collarbones?!

Sure enough, that surgeon is staring at her clavicle like some kind of pervert. The sight alone incites the beginnings of a dull throbbing in my temples, no doubt exacerbated by the vice-like clench of my jaws.

I follow them with my gaze as they are led to a table for two; fixate on Luke’s face even as the sommelier arrives to make his recommendations to the pair. The doctor stares at my girl like he couldn’t care less about the meal, as if the only thing he hungered for was precisely what I myself had desired for so long: the woman. And she—

Just looked my way.

Surprise etches itself onto her beautiful features — the brows I had dreamt of one day lightly running a fingertip over while she sleeps lifting into a delicate arch. And why shouldn’t she be surprised? I had given her no indication that I had rushed over to Tokyo from Loveland City as soon as I heard what Luke had requested of her.

But there is no nod of acknowledgement, no smile in greeting. Just her, looking away as if she hadn’t seen me at all, her smile apologetic when she retrains her attention on the doctor. And while it was only for a fraction of a second, I could have sworn her eyes carried a hint of sorrow.

Or perhaps I’m projecting.

Because her obvious avoidance feels like a rebuff, a sucker punch to the gut. She’s never blatantly ignored me like that, no matter how wound up she was even during those times when I verbally tore her sub-par proposals to shreds. The feeling of rejection sits heavy on my chest, the tie around my neck much too tight.

“Victor, are you all right?”

Diana’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She is looking at me curiously. I reach for my glass of wine, suddenly feeling like I was on the verge of choking. “Of course, what could possibly be wrong?”

“ ‘What’s wrong’ is the fact that you haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said for the past ten minutes. Even if there’s no chance we’ll ever get back together again as you so adamantly insist, the least you could do is pay attention to the person you’re sharing a meal with.”

I take a deep breath, more than a little disconcerted by the girl’s ability to affect me. “Of course. My apologies, you’re absolutely right. Please, continue.”

Across the candlelit table, I look Diana in the eye, resolved to keep up at least the pretence of being interested in what she had to say when all I wanted to do was storm the table where Luke sat with my girl. With each sideways glance in their direction, my grip tightened on my utensils to see them chatting, seemingly engrossed in the world’s most interesting conversation.

And when she hands over a manila envelope to the doctor, my heart skips a beat.

Could it be…marriage documents?!

One tiny corner of my brain berates me for how ridiculous I am being but when it comes to her, I simply can’t help it, and the fantasy in which I casually stroll over, flip the table onto Luke Foster and steal my girl away in a bridal carry becomes so vivid in my mind’s eye, it almost seems like a good idea.

Diana excuses herself to use the restroom and I pounce on the opportunity to send the dummy a text:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR. DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 7: Choked Up

“Is there something wrong, Dr. Foster? You haven’t touched your meal.”

You do your best to school your expression into one of polite neutrality as you take in the strange sight of the pale, blond-haired man shaking out an alarming number of pills onto the palm of his hand, tapping loudly on a bottle seemingly produced out of nowhere. He pops them all into his mouth at once and you pray you won’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver as he chases them down with a few gulps of water.

A smile spreads across the doctor’s lips as his eyes fall upon your collarbones once more. You were used to feeling like a third wheel by now, even when alone with Luke Foster, given his penchant for carrying on conversations while staring intently at your bones. But you took no offence at his behaviour, especially after Baba’s attempts to give you insight into Luke’s peculiar mannerisms:

“Try not to take it personal, Miss. Lu will look at anyone who’s got beautiful collarbones. It’s a well-known fact that he’s obsessed with the boss’s - he's even framed the X-ray films of Eisuke’s bones. He likely just wants yours to add to his collection.”

Strange though it was, the request that Luke be allowed to have X-rays films of your collarbones in exchange for appearing on Miracle Finder was innocent enough. Certainly nothing that warranted the stony silence you received on the other end of the line when you called Victor the other day to tell him that Dr. Foster wanted to examine you. After a brusque “I have to go,” he had hung up. No goodbyes, not even a mutter of “dummy.”

But Luke Foster had been nothing short of a perfect gentleman, never once laying a hand on you. Moreover, he even insisted on paying for tonight’s meal despite the fact that you had invited him as thanks for appearing on the show.

“Please, just call me Luke. Vitamins and water are all I need to survive. I only ordered because Eisuke said it might be awkward if you seemed to be the only one dining.”

“I-I see.” You smile, taking another bite of wagyu. And for a moment, you are too wrapped up in the blissful way it seemed to melt on your tongue to be disconcerted by the strange events of the evening.

You weren’t, however, too distracted to continue throwing surreptitious glances in Victor’s direction, fighting to keep composed each time Diana’s laughter carried over to your table. What were the chances that you’d find yourselves at the same restaurant in all of Tokyo? You know that he knows you are here; even Chik couldn’t put on a performance convincing enough for the LFG CEO to believe for a second that you didn’t see him.

With your dismal acting skills, you definitely didn’t stand a chance.

“You’re in love with him.”

COUGH, COUGH!

You clear the steak lodged in the back of your throat with a few hacking coughs, half of your face hidden behind your napkin as you tried to be as discreet as possible, the words “Death by Wagyu” flashing through your mind. After soothing your throat with a sip of wine, you ask:

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re in love with that man sitting just over there with the woman dressed in red. That Victor fellow who accompanied you to that first meeting with Eisuke.”

For someone who seemed to pay very little attention to matters that didn’t concern bones, Luke Foster was surprisingly perceptive. Or maybe you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were and it was obvious to all but yourself that you were staring at the golden couple.

“I…how did you...what makes you—”

“Please pass this message on to him for me. If he doesn’t treat your collarbones with the respect they deserve, he can’t blame me for swooping in to take his place.”

Then, for the very first time that night, Luke Foster looks you in the eye, the intensity in blue-grey irises making your breath hitch when he says: “Until then, I hope you find happiness with him, Sexy Bones — especially since he also seems to be exceedingly fond of you. Quite the annoyance, really.”

And for the very first time that night, you smile freely, naturally, at Luke, blushing hard as you contemplate his words. Suddenly bashful, you drop your gaze only to catch sight of the manila envelope you brought with you. You pass it across the table to him.

“Here. Your payment for agreeing to appear on Miracle Finder.”

The expression on Luke’s face can best be described as euphoric when he takes the films from you, momentarily excusing himself from the table as he murmurs something about requiring brighter lighting to examine them.

That is when you hear the buzz of your phone from inside your purse. And when you finally fish it out, you see a single text from Victor, commanding as always:

“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR. DON’T BE LATE.”

Chapter 8: Green-Eyed Monsters [Victor]

“Another whiskey on the rocks for you, Sir?”

I nod to the bartender, watching as he chips away at a block of ice to produce a perfect crystalline sphere — still spinning in the glass when he pours the amber spirit over it like a libation. It almost takes my mind off the fact that the girl is late. By exactly ten minutes, according to my watch. And for a moment, I’m gripped by a sense of panic when I consider the possibility that she might not come.

She never did answer my text though I knew she saw it — having witnessed her reaching into her purse to pull out her phone seconds after I sent the message. And while the logical part of my brain is telling me I’m being an absolute idiot, worst-case scenarios are already running through my head: the girl is side-swiped by a car while crossing the street, or somehow managed to fall into an open manhole and is currently standing knee-deep in sewage.

Or maybe she is pinned to the wall in a dark corner somewhere, hemmed in on either side by the gifted hands of a world-class surgeon by the name of Luke Foster.

I lift the glass to my lips, too impatient to even savour the smooth burn of the drink as I reach for my phone to send her another text. That is when I see her:

Cheeks flushed and chest gently heaving as if she had rushed to get here. An errant lock of hair falling from her up-do, framing that beautiful face like I had dreamt so many times of doing with the palm of my hand.

She makes her way towards me in that dimly lit bar, and though I’m aware of the faint ticking of the second hand of my watch, time may as well have stood still. Because I could have lived in that moment forever, gazing upon the light in her eyes as if they held every last star in the sky, as if those heavenly bodies had fallen just for her in precisely the same way I had: deeply, irrevocably.

And I know there is no turning back.

“Victor, sorry I’m late! What are you doing here in Tok—”

“Why did you ignore me?” My voice comes out stern, even to my ears, and I curse myself for losing my cool around her yet again. The girl furrows her brows, eyes dropping from my face to the half-empty glass of whiskey sitting on the counter. And when she looks up again, something in her countenance has changed — soft surprise giving way to a hardened expression.

“If it’s the text you’re referring to, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze as she perches on the stool beside me. “Surely you wouldn’t have wanted me to interrupt your dinner date, especially when you and Ms. Shum seemed so intimate.”

Intimate?

The bartender approaches, interrupting our conversation before I get the chance to formulate a reply. “What can I get for you, Miss?”

“She’ll have a glass of warmed milk—”

“Whiskey. On the rocks, please.”

She speaks over me, turning slightly in my direction as she does. I ignore the murmur of “Ladies’ choice” from the bartender as well as the smirk on his face as he begins preparing her drink. The thinly veiled challenge in the girl’s expression — elbow propped up on the counter with her chin resting atop a loose fist — only serves to highlight how incredibly alluring it is when she pushes back.

“Hmm. Bold. Since when did you start drinking whiskey? I don’t think you need me to remind you of your non-existent alcohol tolerance. Besides, didn’t you already have enough to drink at dinner?”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Victor Li,” she says, reaching for the glass the bartender sets down before her. She takes a moment, staring at the rich, golden hues before finally taking a sip. I fight to keep the smile off my face when hers pulls into a grimace from the sting of the alcohol she clearly wasn’t familiar with. Dummy.

“I’m surprised you even noticed me at all, not with the lovely Diana there. But I guess old wounds really do have difficulty closing, no matter how much we say they’ve healed.”

“You’d have to ask for the expert opinion of your overly friendly doctor about that.”

“Excuse me?” She sets her drink down a bit harder than likely intended, sending the liquid sloshing about the glass to kiss the pink of her lipstick imprinted on its edge.

I don’t like where this conversation is going, the ill-disguised barbs only serving to increase the tension between us. It was foolish to have what should’ve been a very private discussion in a public space but, as always, the thought of her and Luke together is enough to make me forget my place and position, throwing caution to the wind and behaving with reckless abandon.

And still, the heat beneath my collar goads me on.

“Luke Foster. The one you’re so enthralled with that your manners seem to have been completely swept from memory. I presume that’s the reason why you didn’t acknowledge my existence when you saw me in the restaurant.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she leans in close, voice dripping with sarcasm: “Just like how you didn’t remember to tell me you were coming to Tokyo? Or maybe you weren’t planning on telling me at all, since it clearly looked like you weren’t here on business. But then again, I guess your business is none of mine.”

I don’t know whether I want to push back or kiss her senseless.

Instead, I settle for a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check. Having a heated argument with her was not how I had intended my evening to go. In fact, my entire day had not proceeded as planned, and if I hadn’t been accosted by Diana as soon as I stepped foot in the Tres Spades hotel, I would have been having dinner with the woman who occupied all my thoughts, all the time. At the very least, I could’ve saved her from the clutches of a pervert doctor.

I glance in her direction, study the beautiful melancholy of her silent profile as she watches the ball of ice slowly melt into her drink. Then I take another sip of mine, steeling myself for reparations I desperately needed to make.

“I am only going to say this once, so listen closely. Diana Shum and I dated shortly after graduation for all of two months before we decided to part ways on amicable terms. We make for much better business partners than we ever did romantically, and while she has expressed occasional interest in rekindling our relationship, I have never been of the same mind. I can assure you this will never change.

“The reason I came to Tokyo is not because of her — professional or otherwise — but because I was in a rush to prevent a certain dummy from doing anything she’d regret later on. But…”

I knock back the rest of my whiskey, emptying the glass.

“…I’m afraid I’m too late.”

She looks at me now, eyes wide as if she were still processing the words. Her next question comes on a whisper: “Why would you be too late?”

And it is my turn to look away.

“Well, you seemed to be pretty intimate yourself with Dr. Foster during your dinner date. I can only presume that…”

The girl moves closer and I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her mouth — the tremble of her lower lip, full and pink and lush. Without thought, I allow my gaze to trace along the graceful column of her neck, settling at the delicate notch between her collarbones and in that instant, I come to a visceral understanding of the extent of Luke Foster’s obsession, for mine was magnified a million times over:

I yearned for the entirety of this woman before me — needed her for myself, now and forever.

“Presume what?” Her voice is low, shaking.

“I can only presume that you’ve already allowed him to…examine your body.”

There is a moment of silence — each torturous second seeming to stretch into eternity to smother the last embers of hope.

“I have…”

Oh god.

“…given him X-ray films of my collarbones as he requested. That is all. He’s never touched me, not even once. I took him out to dinner tonight so I could give them to him as thanks for appearing on the show.”

Petty. Sheepish. I felt all these things, but none so powerful as the staggering sense of relief that washes over me to hear her say these words. Closing my eyes, I let the revelation sink in, finally feeling like I can breathe for the very first time that night.

Chapter 9: The Big Bang

You don’t quite know what made you do it.

The ambience of the bar, perhaps: sultry jazz and flickering candles purposefully placed to create just enough shadows for a veil of privacy.

Or maybe it was the crestfallen uncertainty that painted the handsome features of Victor Li’s face, his sudden display of vulnerability both novel and endearing.

Most likely however, it was the way in which his downcast expression morphed into one of ecstatic relief when you told him that Luke Foster had not laid a single finger on you.

Because when Victor tilts his head back, eyes closed and sighing deeply as if some unfathomable burden had been lifted, you cannot help but bring your lips to the Adam’s apple bobbing along the length of that strong, thick neck.

Cedar wood and pine.

The notes of his cologne are so familiar you didn’t realize how much you missed his scent until you literally came face to face with it. Victor is warm, so very warm beneath the skin of your lips. And under your touch, you become vaguely aware of the fact that the rise and fall of his chest has stilled.

At any other time, you would’ve questioned your sanity for how boldly you were behaving, especially towards someone who was your boss. You had never been one to put yourself out there when it came to matters of the heart. Something about the moment however, about Victor, made you feel like the one thing you could not do was let this chance pass you by.

So when you hear that shuddering breath, feel the faint scratch of his five o’clock shadow when he nuzzles against you in return, you know you’ve made the right gamble. Being with Victor Li feels right. And the surreal sense of belonging you find within the embrace of his muscular arms gives you the courage to say, “You must really believe I’m a dummy if you think I’d let any man other than you touch me.”

He slides a finger beneath your chin, gently lifting until all you can see are those jet black eyes, swimming with heat and emotion. The sudden silence of your surroundings sinks in: no more music, no idle chatter. Not even the rustle of limbs moving about in the dimly lit bar. And there, in the strange privacy of suspended time…

...Victor kisses you.

* * *

“Are you sure…this is…what you want?”

The deep timbre of Victor’s voice sends a thrill vibrating along the surface of your skin as he questions you between kisses — laid on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the pulse of your neck. His firm body presses you into a corner of the elevator, empty save for the two of you writhing in unison against a mirrored wall.

Each movement of his soft lips against yours is purposeful, imbued with meaning: longing in the gentle teeth that nibbled on your lower lip before drawing it into his mouth, in the sensual slide of the tongue that sought yours. Affection obvious in the hands that rose to cup your face, thumbs tracing circles on the apples of reddened cheeks to tell you in no uncertain terms that Victor Li belonged to you as much as you yearned to belong to him.

So you had no qualms about answering in the affirmative, nodding your head because the press of Victor’s muscular thigh between your legs already left you breathless and wondering whether he could feel your wet heat seeping through your panties.

And all he really did was kiss you.

Ding.

The elevator stops at your floor and even before the doors slide open, Victor has hoisted you up, wrapping your legs tightly about his tapered waist and whispering into your ear, “Which room?”

You knew Victor was fit, had seen him move fast and effortlessly through the waters of his Olympic-sized swimming pool that one time he had you deliver a report to his mansion on a Sunday. And yet, you could not help but admire the sheer perfection of his physique — the bulk of his biceps, flexed beneath strained layers of clothing; the ease with which he carries you all the way to your suite.

And when he sits you down upon the king-sized bed, you wonder if it is, in fact, too small for all the things you cared to do with him.

The LFG CEO shrugs off his suit jacket, loosening his tie just enough to pull it over his head before dropping to kneel at your feet. You watch him reach for you, shiver when he caresses the sensitive skin behind your knee with a light graze of gentle fingertips. Large hands trail down your calf — touch barely there and teasing — until his palm finally cups the heel of your stiletto to slide it off your foot.

He looks up at you then, the intensity in ebony irises rendering you still and mute as you patiently await his next move despite the frenzied pounding in your chest. There is a stroke of something almost feral in the dark depths of the gaze that falls heavy upon you — searching your eyes, lingering on your lips…tracing the neckline of your dress.

“I’ve never seen you wear this dress before.” Victor says, taking the same amount of care to remove the shoe from your other foot.

And if you were able to think straight under the influence of his touch — the hands that pushed back the hem of your dress as they roamed higher and higher up your thighs towards your heat — you might have found it strange that Victor was choosing now, of all times, to comment on your wardrobe choices. As it was, you answered without second thought: “It’s new. I bought it especially for tonight’s dinner.”

Victor stills and when he speaks again, there is a faint tremble in that voice, as if fighting to contain some unfathomable emotion.

“The doctor couldn’t stop staring at you. I know because I was the same way. I couldn’t look away from the moment you stepped foot in that restaurant.”

The revelation leaves you silent, waiting with bated breath for Victor to continue.

“Forgive me…”

Fingers entwine with fabric, gripping tight.

“…but I can’t stand the thought of you looking so beautiful for anyone else.”

RRRIIIIPPPP!

You fall back, wincing at the sound even as you feel your body respond to the sudden shock of having your dress torn right down the middle. Victor’s display of brute strength was so at odds with the façade of composure he was synonymous with and yet, there was no denying that you were incredibly aroused by this show of power — by the fact that he was now straddling you on all fours like some wild beast, tearing away the rest of your undergarments to leave you completely bare.

You’ve never been so desperate to feel him inside you, deep and rough and untamed. The thought throws you into a frenzy of lust.

Digging your fingers into the front of his dress shirt, you yank it open to send buttons flying in haphazard directions, but the only thing that concerned you was the sight of that broad chest and muscular torso, so impressive it actually elicits a moan from your lips and a smile from his in return.

Propping yourself up onto your knees, you press against him, flesh to flesh — one hand running over the burning surface of his skin even as the other tugs at the buckle of his leather belt, impatiently moving to palm him when his dress pants fall and gasping to finally see and feel the full extent of the LFG CEO:

Victor Li is rock hard and intimidatingly large.

And the sight makes your mouth water.

Sinking onto your heels, you trail your lips along Victor’s chiseled body, tongue teasing at his nipples as you do and relishing the catch of his breath in his throat.

But just as you begin to lay kisses along the deep V of his abdomen with the intent of tracing lower and lower, Victor stops you, puling you up for a kiss before laying back on the bed and positioning you above him…

…with his face between your legs.

“This way,” he says, voice muffled, and you might have commented on his inability to relinquish control even in the bedroom were it not for the sensation of his flattened tongue sweeping hot and wet along the seam of your already dripping pussy, teasing from end to end.

The sensation is so intense it’s almost unbearable. You throw your head back, mouth dropping in a silent scream as you sink onto Victor’s face, fighting the instinct to grinder lower onto that talented tongue despite the encouraging grip of Victor’s hands, strong on your hips and thighs.

“I’ve wanted to taste you…for so long,” he murmurs, sucking the swell of your clit into his mouth and humming in approval against moist flesh to hear you moan above him. “Your flavour is absolutely exquisite.”

Gathering your wits, you fold forward — intent on giving just as much pleasure as you were receiving. Victor twitches once within your grip, not quite contained by the circumference of your palm and fingers, running up and down the sizeable length of his cock, hot in your hand like his breath on your slit. And after placing a few wet kisses on the smooth, hard head, you open your mouth to taste him.

The tepid salt of his arousal. The groans originating from deep within Victor’s chest each time your lip brushed past the tender underside of his cock. The subtle rhythm of his pelvis, lifting in time to your mouth swallowing more of that solid shaft, quickly becoming slick with your saliva.

And then you catch sight of your reflection in the mirrored closet. See the bulge of Victor’s bicep as he grips your hip, the flex in the muscles of his neck when he lifts to bury his face deeper into your folds. See yourself: hair disheveled and eyes half-lidded, drunk on sex. Observe the messy smear of your lipstick as your mouth stretches to accommodate more and more of your boss’s cock. And when the tip of Victor’s tongue begins its relentless tease of your clit, you watch as a most debauched expression falls over your features, the tension in your body breaking as you find release on his lips.

You are still shaking when he enters you, sensitized by an orgasm that left tiny sparks of electricity running along every nerve, priming you for second helpings. A true paragon of patience, Victor Li takes his time, deliberately slow as he pushes — savouring the sensation of drenched, swollen flesh parting just for him.

It was almost unfathomable that you could experience such extreme pleasure, each powerful swing of Victor’s hips driving him deeper into your body — hitting just the right angles until your very senses were extracted along with your second release of the night, running slick between your legs to ease the slippery slide of your bodies.

It draws out Victor’s own, your lover moving to pull out moments before you surprise him by taking him once more into your mouth — gaze locked onto those dark eyes from below as you taste him on your tongue, euphoric to see him bite his lips when your lick yours to swallow every last drop.

Chapter 10: Pillow Talk

Beep Beep Beep Beep.

You roll over, eyes still closed as you reach out to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock.

Except your palm comes down on warm flesh with a resounding smack, echoing throughout your hotel room and accompanied by a deep voice that says, “Are you finally awake, Dummy?”

Your eyes shoot open to see Victor lying naked in bed next to you, a splotch of red blooming on his chest where he had been attacked. He sets his phone down to hand you a glass of water from the bedside table, and even though memories of the previous night come rushing back to burn your cheeks, you cannot help but notice how glorious he looks bathed in morning light. You hope he doesn’t see the way your hand shakes when you accept the glass from him with a meek “Thanks.”

Victor clears his throat, waiting for you to finish drinking before he says, “That was the fourth time you slept through the alarm. I’ve already informed your colleagues you’ll be taking the day off. We didn’t get much sleep last night and I think you’ll need some time to…recover.”

You bite your lip, turning sideways to feign a sudden interest in the curtains so he wouldn’t see the giant smile spreading onto your face. It was almost surreal that Victor Li was your lover, and if it weren’t for the exquisite soreness you felt between your legs, you would’ve been hard pressed to believe it for yourself.

The sheets rustle and before you know it, Victor has his chest pressed up against your bare back, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on it.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Okay. Pretty good, actually.” It was too early in the game to tell him you were already doing cartwheels in your mind.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that because I found this under your pillow…”

He places something in your hands. Your eyes widen when you recognize the magazine with his face on the cover.

“…And this ‘man on top’ wants to know what it feels like to have this woman on top of him for the rest of the day.”

You’ve made it to the end! 🤩 Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

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The Colour of Love: Sesskag oneshot

This oneshot is dedicated to @chierafied as thanks for all her hard work and organisation in the sesskag community, particularly on tumblr for sesskag week and monthly prompts. She's also a wonderful sesskag author and always offers advice or a kind word ^^

Rated T

Summary: Shippo puts a spell on Kagome that allows her to see emotions in colour. It's fun to test out on her friends, but why is she seeing an awful lot of magenta around Sesshoumaru whenever she comes near? Sesskag oneshot

The Colour of Love

"I just need to test it on someone. You'll help, won't you?"

Kagome eyed the ominous glowing beverage in the fox's hands dubiously. She winced and picked up a basket, walking away with every intention of weaselling out of the conversation.

"Shippo, no offence, but the last time you tested something on me for class, horns sprouted out of my head and green pimples covered my face for an entire week. I'm not super keen on being your guinea pig this time, buddy."

His tail twitched and lowered, but her words did little to deter Shippo. He followed the miko as she attended to her chores; freeing swaying sheets from where they'd been hanging out to dry and folding them neatly into a basket.

"Oh pleeassee, Kagome! Sensei oversaw my casting process this time- there's no danger, honest! It's not even that cool of a spell."

Kagome arched a brow, lifting off another sheet and smoothing the cool creases. That was odd, Shippo always preferred the flashier spells. "What does it do?"

"It would let you see everyone's emotions in colour."

She tilted her head, "in colour? How would that work?"

Shippo grinned mischievously, holding up his cup and shaking it gently. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Giggling, she thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip. "I guess it sounds pretty harmless. And this is for a grade?"

"Yes!" he nodded rapidly, eyes widening as his tone became pleading. "Sensei already graded all the other kids! I'm the only one who hasn't passed yet, and everyone else in the village refuses to help me! I'd owe you big time, Kagome. Please?"

Giving a large, put-upon sigh and folding the last of the sheets, Kagome squatted down before him. "Alright, alright. I just have to drink it?"

Green eyes brightened, and he handed the cup over eagerly, the contents nearly spilling. "Mhm! The effects should only last for a few days~!"

The glowing blue shimmer within her cup didn't exactly fill Kagome with confidence, but she didn't want to stifle his progress. It was wonderful that Shippo could advance in his magic at a kitsune school. Secretly, she felt somewhat guilty about the subject. She hadn't been able to witness his growth for three years after being stuck in the future.

Steeling herself and deciding to support him, Kagome downed the foul-tasting concoction. Coughing and blinking away thick tears that stung her lashes, her tongue roved around in her mouth as though trying to escape the taste of sour candy mixed with spices and mint leaves. What an odd combination. Shaking herself and noticing Shippo watching her worriedly, blue eyes widened as a faint shade of grey coiled and moved around the outline of his body like a shining aura.

"I-I think I see it?" Kagome gasped, reaching out and trying to touch the thing, though it had no solid form.

"Really?" Shippo lit up, the colour immediately becoming a tentative yellow, which only shone brighter into a canary hue when she nodded.

Giving a happy cheer, Shippo asked her about any side effects, which were none as far as she could tell.

They then decided to walk around Kaede's village together, Kagome noting any people they passed by and the colour of their current emotions. Shippo hurriedly took notes.

"There's Miroku meditating-" Kagome pointed to the quiet meadow they passed where the monk sat calmly, having gained two pupils to teach. Monks in training. Inuyasha had voiced his doubts that it would last long once the monks witnessed Miroku's less than savoury habits.

"His aura thingy is lavender and seems controlled," she observed in a hushed tone.

The little kitsune made a noise of affirmation, writing that down on a trailing scroll. "I think purple must be linked with spirituality then? This is great info!"

Giggling, she nodded, noticing how faint the pupil's auras were. She wondered if her own focus on spirituality would be strong or weak.

Moving on, noticed Sango outside her hut, who seemed absorbed in rocking her infant son while he dozed. Her twins were playing with some spinning tops that Shippo had given them.

"What do ya see, Kagome?" he tugged at her pant leg.

She hummed, gaze gentling. "Sango is radiating a kind of baby pink glow. The twins are like yours earlier- yellow and excited."

"So I guess love is pink," Shippo nodded.

Noticing something, Kagome waved a hand slightly. "Hold on-"

"Hm?"

Kaede and Rin were walking towards them, engaged in conversation. The little girl chirped on about something or other, while Kaede nodded indulgently.

"Kaede and Rin have pink auras too, but it's different. It's a pale pink, more like a pearl."

Shippo tapped his small chin with a pen Kagome had lent him. "Hmm…"

"I guess it makes sense since there are different types of love, don't you think?" gently prodding him, she smiled.

"Oh! So like they're feeling something kinda similar to Sango, but different."

"Right," Kagome grinned wider, proud of him. "Familial love for Sango, and platonic, friendly love for Kaede and Rin."

The old miko and her charge stopped to greet them on the path. "What are ye both up to today?" Kaede's single eye slid down to the scroll questioningly.

Kagome waved it off. "Just some schooling."

"Yeah, but it's fun! We're testing magic!"

Rin gaped at Shippo, aura turning green. "Aww, can I help them?" she turned to Kaede with a pout, clasping both hands and making big brown eyes even wider.

"Ye have your own training to attend to, Rin. Come along," the old woman kept walking with a dusty chuckle.

Whining good-naturedly with a now agitated orange glow about her, Rin trudged after her guardian, giving a despondent farewell to Shippo.

At that moment, foul cursing filled the air. The loud, booming swear caused nesting birds to take flight from their trees near the village.

The miko and kit shared a dry look.

"Inuyasha," they sighed in unison.

Needless to say, their former travelling companion's emotions glowed a vibrant red- outshining even the robe of the fire rat. He held his sore thumb, having accidentally hammered it while fixing a neighbour's chicken coop. Kagome wisely hid her laughter, feeling a plume of affection for him, since he'd taken it upon himself to help a neighbour.

I wonder what colour surrounds me when I look at Inuyasha, she wondered, fishing out a small mirror. Unfortunately, she couldn't see the colour. Though they'd broken up after a couple of weeks of dating, that candle of first love between them wouldn't be snuffed out completely. Since she couldn't coax that flame any higher than a tiny, nostalgic flame, she wagered it to be a kind of pastel pink colour.

After a few hours, Shippo looked down at the list of emotions they'd observed. "I think I got most of em' for now. We did great today, Kagome! Thanks so much!"

She giggled and ruffled his hair. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. I need to collect some herbs now, so if I see some new ones while I'm out, I'll let you know," Kagome grinned, leaning a basket against her hip. "I'll be able to see these emotions for a few more days, so no sense in turning in your test results early."

Shippo gave her a brief hug, before racing off to go organise his notes. Beaming with pride, Kagome walked out of the village and up a hill towards Inuyasha Forest with a small skip in her step. She'd helped! And luckily there'd been no side effects or worries of any kind.

Maybe I should help him out more often, she mused, noticing a certain Daiyoukai step out from beneath the shade of trees, powder blue shifting around his aura calmly. Smiling amiably, Kagome lifted a hand in greeting as their gazes met- before freezing.

Sesshoumaru's expression didn't change from its usual combo of placid, haughty and stoic. However, the energy surrounding him immediately dyed a deep, vibrant colour.

Kagome's breath hitched, eyes widening.

It plunged into a bold magenta hue, becoming a solid outline that coiled and thrummed.

She did not understand what it meant, but that she could elicit a change in emotion from him at all felt startling.

He stared at her, unblinking. As he drew closer and closer, Kagome tried to make sense of what he could be feeling, but his guarded eyes refused to risk any secrets being revealed.

"Miko," he acknowledged in his usual crisp, silky baritone. His way of a greeting.

"Sesshoumaru," she said, muscles tensing as he passed by, the silk of his billowing sleeve brushing the hypersensitive skin of her arm. Kagome blinked rapidly, reeling.

Shifting to watch him leave surreptitiously, she watched the magenta remain long after they'd parted ways, spying him duck into Kaede's hut to pay Rin a visit.

What the heck was that about?

Maybe it wasn't anything worth noting. Surely, just like anyone else, the Daiyouki had various emotions linked to things. People elicited different feelings from him; that was perfectly normal. But his mood had changed so swiftly upon seeing her that Kagome couldn't help but feel curious. What did magenta mean? Had she offended him? Did he always feel that specific emotion around her, or was it a one-off?

Turning on her heel, Kagome dismissed her task of fetching herbs in favour of seeking Shippo out again.

---

"What does magenta mean to you?"

"To me?"

Kagome nodded seriously.

Thinking for a moment, Shippo hummed and nommed on a lollipop, leaning back on the log he'd perched upon outside. "I dunno, it's a pretty colour but not a favourite. Can't get much use outta it with my crayons."

"No, I mean like - surely there has to be some demon opinion of magenta? Is it associated with a powerful emotion or something?"

Shippo shook his head, consulting the forgotten scroll. "My guess is- since purple is spiritual stuff, Sesshoumaru feels uh...like you remind him of holy things?"

Huffing out a sigh, she flopped down beside him, placing her chin in her hands. "Doubt that. He didn't seem calm," she mumbled, remembering the vivid intensity of his unblinking stare. "Hm, maybe since red- which is anger- and darker blue- which is sadness- has to mix to make the right shade of magenta, that means Sesshoumaru is both angry and sad when he looks at me." Kagome's stomach dropped. "Oh God, do I make him smad?"

Shippo snorted and tossed his lollipop aside to shake her arm, noticing the dazed look of worry glazing her eyes. "You don't make him smad."

Kagome remained unconvinced. The kit groaned, hopping up and grabbing her hand. "You don't! I'm sure it was just a coincidence he was feeling magenta around you. Let's go see!"

The miko stumbled after the exuberant fox, not fully realising where he intended to go until it clicked they were heading toward Kaede's hut. Kagome's heels abruptly dug into the earth, dragging. "Shippo!" she hissed. "He's visiting Rin- I don't want to interrupt."

"You won't be, it looks like they're saying goodbye already."

Blue eyes widened and her attention snapped up from the fox to land on some distant figures up ahead. Even from far away, Kagome could see the pearl pink aura coiling around Sesshoumaru as he lay a gentle hand upon Rin's head of brown hair. The girl beamed, giving off her own warm shine.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, heedless of her own approach now. She realized then just how personal and vulnerable the emotion spell could be- how rare and revealing it was to witness Sesshoumaru experiencing such a wholesome bond, free from violence. Enemies could potentially use it on each other to find out secret information easily.

The Daiyoukai seemed to inhale- abruptly stiffening and lifting his hand away from Rin as claws twitched, curling into his palm. Kagome witnessed the moment his aura bled darker, slipping from innocent pink into the strong shade of magenta- just as he turned his head in their direction. Golden eyes pinned her in place. Sesshoumaru seemed to grow tense and watchful, showing none of his previous warmth.

Shippo paused when they weren't too far away, glancing up and noticing Kagome's pale expression. "Uh... has it happened again?"

"It's even worse than before," Kagome whispered.

"Kagome, Shippo!" Rin called over to them, waving. "Are you still playing with magic?"

This seemed to catch Sesshoumaru's attention, ripping his heavy gaze away to land on his ward. "Magic?"

"Mhm! They're doing some kitsune homework with a spell," she smiled, seeming to gain a devious expression and hurrying over to grab Kagome's freehand, pulling her the rest of the way towards her lord. "Kagome! You should take a quick break and sit with Lord Sesshoumaru. Share some tea together!"

Horror churned fierce and fast through Kagome's system. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and prolonged exposure to her would no doubt suck for him if magenta was an irritated colour.

"That is unnecessary, Rin," Sesshoumaru uttered, confirming Kagome's suspicions. She winced a little anyway, wondering why it stung. "This one was just passing through, I will leave now."

Making a noise of complaint, the girl's grip tightened. "Well then, she should accompany you! W-we need medicinal herbs and you didn't gather any earlier, did you Kagome?"

She willed the earth to swallow her whole. "N-no…"

"Then it's decided! She can walk you to the forest since she's heading that way." Rin poked and prodded them to get moving. In all the confusion, Shippo slipped away to make some notes, giving Kagome a thumbs up- which she returned with a death glare.

Wondering what had come over Rin but being trapped by politeness to refuse, Kagome grimly started walking alongside Sesshoumaru, picking up a basket from Kaede's hut.

I shouldn't feel guilty or weird around him, she thought, trying to ease her worry. If he's getting bent out of shape just from seeing me, that's his problem. I'm pretty confident I haven't insulted him recently.

Kagome nodded silently to herself, endeavouring not to let Sesshoumaru's secret magenta emotion matter so much-

"You appear well."

Jumping, Kagome whipped her head up to the regal demon. "Huh?" she blinked, heat touching her cheeks. "Oh! Thanks!" the magenta outline grew bolder, much to her chagrin. "You look nice too. Aha-! I mean not nice- well, you look handsome- but in a good health way! Not a 'compliment on your looks' way. That's totally what I meant. "

Open mouth, insert foot.

His aura only seemed to fluctuate more, and Sesshoumaru's lips thinned. Kagome inwardly groaned. No doubt he hated her even more now!

She decided an attempt to smooth over everything was in order. "Sesshoumaru," she said, taking a breath. "I know we might not be what you'd consider close, but I'd be totally fine with talking about anything that might be bothering you. Even allies can talk about that stuff."

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, looking as though she'd blurted out a foreign language. He then faced forward, features becoming tightly controlled. "Nothing unsettles me, miko. It is a foolish, human sentiment that I should be 'bothered' by anything."

Kagome rolled her eyes, mouth twitching. Proud, stubborn guy. She didn't know why she found it kind of endearing.

"Why are you so certain I am troubled?"

Her steps faltered before she strode on, biting her bottom lip. "I have a knack for feeling out these things. A woman's intuition," she grinned, noticing his stare rove lower, south from her eyes.

"Hn," golden eyes lingered. Kagome wondered if she'd gotten something stuck in her teeth. "Your intuition is certainly lacking if you are only just noticing something amiss."

A victorious noise escaped her and she immediately swooped in on the slip-up. Sesshoumaru seemed to wince. "Aha! So something IS wrong!"

"Miko-"

"It's just that you've been dealing with it for such a long time that it's become almost normal to you. That about right?" she grinned.

Kagome took his moody silence as a 'yes.'

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it earlier. Shippo's um...spell...has made me extra sensitive to how others are feeling," she revealed a half-truth. "I just can't work out how you're feeling. Heh, you're mysterious even when I've got magic to help me understand you."

"You wish to understand me?"

"Well, yes? You're our ally. As established; I'd like to be your friend too."

"I see."

"Sooo...?" Kagome hedged as they arrived at the border of the trees. The Daiyoukai stopped and turned to her once they were beneath the branches, having stepped under cool shade. Kagome quieted, wondering at the assessing, guarded look he pinned her with. Why should the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru guard himself against her of all people?

Pale lips quirked, and he hummed, giving a haughty, arrogant smirk. "Figure it out yourself."

Her mouth fell open. Ire immediately simmered real and hot beneath her skin. "That's not helpful, Sesshoumaru! The whole point of having friends is to share stuff! You can't expect people to know how you're feeling without you telling them, I'm not a mind reader."

He moved in slightly closer then, leaning down. Kagome swallowed but tensed her legs to keep from bending back, holding her ground and straightening her spine. It proved difficult. Sesshoumaru's cold features had a way of unnerving even the most hardened warriors. It was the lack of empathy or emotion in his animalistic gaze; the terrifying sense that something was missing; humanity.

But...

Kagome's eyes strayed to the magenta aura that only blazed thicker and larger, practically drowning her. The spell revealed, albeit without his consent; that Sesshoumaru was a man of feeling. In fact, whatever emotion plagued him, it roared stronger than any other persons she'd seen that day. Besides all that, she'd witnessed his care of others before. Been on the receiving end of it when he'd saved her a few times.

In the shade's hush, he tipped his head slightly, silver hair falling free from behind a pointed ear. "I am not a being that 'tells' other's information freely. Demons can glean enough from my body language, scent and actions enough to understand my feelings."

"And I appreciate that," Kagome said in a softer tone. "But I'm not a demon."

"Rin-"

"Is a child who has spent a lot of one-on-one time with you. I'd also wager that while she understands a lot of your intentions...she doesn't always understand you either."

Sesshoumaru begrudged her point, though seemed ever unwilling to let his mask slip to reveal anything.

Searching his gaze, she wet her dry lips. "What does the colour magenta mean to you?"

His aura flared, and Sesshoumaru surprised her by leaning back and stepping away. His features became a mix of things, the colours changing for the first time around him- grey, yellow, black, fluctuating on magenta and orange before settling on a particular shade of red that made her squeak.

No way- is he embarrassed?

"Why ask that?" he asked in a removed, steady tone. If she focused though, Kagome could pick up on the faint slip in his voice.

Kagome for once couldn't answer, heart hammering in her ribcage. She wasn't sure what to interpret from his reaction, but the colour obviously meant something to him. Shaking her head, Kagome waved it off.

"Never mind. I'll take your advice and work it out for myself."

He blinked and arched a brow, seeming to recover from his surprise. "Oh?"

Kagome made a noise of affirmation, turning on her heel and taking a few steps away. Pausing, she flashed him a smile over her shoulder. "And if I guess correctly, you agree to start telling me the important stuff. Deal?"

Sesshoumaru's face flashed with intrigue. Slowly, thin lips curved. His expression transformed into something quietly eager, the colour aura deepening into blazing magenta once more.

"Hn."

---

After asking near everyone she could think of for their input or ideas, Kagome ran into a brick wall, utterly stumped. That was- until she heard a certain irritatingly high, grating voice.

"But WHERE did Lord Sesshoumaru go?"

"I don't know, he said he was just passing through."

Jaken.

If anyone had insight into Sesshoumaru, it would be the little green imp. Kagome hurried in the direction of the helium sounding voice.

Finding Rin and Jaken by the village well, and struggling to pull a bucketful up together- Kagome quickly lent a hand, hefting the bucket up onto the side. The little girl grinned and thanked her, while Kagome crouched before Jaken, causing him to squeak.

"W-what is it? What do you want?!"

"I need to talk to you," Kagome said seriously. Resting her hands over her knees and leaning forward intently. "Magenta. Tell me your thoughts on that colour."

Bulbous yellow eyes widened. "Hah? Have you lost your senses, strange girl?"

Rin pouted and lifted the heavy bucket down, spilling some water. "Just do it, Master Jaken. If Kagome is asking, it must be important."

Kagome smiled a little, before schooling her features back into complete seriousness.

The imp sighed and squinted, before thinking for a moment. "Hmm, well. I would of course associate it with the most illustrious Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"H-huh? Why?"

"His cheek and wrist stripes are that exact shade! Don't you pay attention to anything?"

Kagome realised he was entirely correct. They matched up perfectly. Excitement built in her chest, feeling like she was FINALLY getting somewhere with the big mystery. "So it's linked with him… I see. What do you think the colour represents?"

"Haven't the faintest idea," he tilted his head back with a haughty sniff. "But since they adorn Lord Sesshoumaru, I can only conclude that it must be a royal, prideful colour."

Her elation fizzled out. Kagome wilted, sighing and standing once more. That didn't fit at all. No way would Sesshoumaru feel pride while looking at her.

Stepping away with the dismal thought that she was back at square one, she paused upon noticing a tugging on her sleeve. Rin clutched the trailing end of it, looking up at her in quiet earnest. She bit her lip and seemed to struggle with something. "I-I'm sure the answer is there if you just try asking more questions, Kagome."

The miko softened and petted her wild hair, smoothing the locks back from her face. "You really think so, kiddo? Because I'm kind of stumped right now."

"Mhm! I don't know what homework you're helping Shippo with, but if its causing you to take an interest in Lord Sesshoumaru, I encourage you to dig deeper!"

Kagome wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about the subject, her smile becoming a little confused. Nonetheless, she decided to take the advice and try again.

The right question…

Grabbing the back of Jaken's robes and tugging him back before he could walk off, Kagome knelt down. She decided to shift her focus. "Those markings on Sesshoumaru's face and wrists- I was wondering if they mean anything."

"Bah! Such things have a multitude of uses! Ahem!" he lifted up a tiny green claw. "Firstly, they are to show that he is poisonous."

Kagome stifled a giggle behind her hand, smiling with her eyes at Rin. "So he's like a flower."

"No! Nothing like a flower! He is deadly!"

"Poisonous flowers exist- but never mind that," she waved off. "What else?"

"Second, the positioning of the markings represents various things. The ones on mi lord's cheeks represent superior jaws, the wrists and ankles represent superior strength in his arms and legs, while the hips represent that he will produce superior offspring."

Kagome turned steadily red, wondering how low those stripes hooked down his hips. She hadn't even known he possessed hip stripes and was now picturing him half-naked. Kagome quickly shook the fantasy away. Rin didn't seem to understand that last part but thankfully remained quiet.

Jaken continued on, bolstered by such a captive audience and happy to talk about his favourite subject. "Lastly, they are to catch the interest of a mate."

"They... are?"

The imp nodded with vigour. "If you were the slightest bit observant, you'd notice that the vibrancy of his markings has emboldened recently. This means he is displaying for a female."

She had noticed that, actually, but Kagome hadn't thought anything of it. She felt close to a conclusion then, so achingly near to the truth. Swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry mouth, Kagome soldiered on.

"I saw that the ones on his cheeks had become bolder. What about his crescent moon?"

Jaken waved a tiny hand, "the moon is just to show which clan he belongs to. In relation to your original question, it is the magenta markings that are paramount. They are intrinsically linked with all that I noted; intimidation signals and mating."

Kagome nodded, inwardly reeling. She mulled this over and thanked him for the valuable insight. Magenta obviously meant more to Sesshoumaru than she'd ever thought.

In light of Jaken's words, Kagome found herself having to observe a certain set of emotions. Since mating was on the list, she reluctantly wandered in search of a known pervert.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she took Miroku to one side. After explaining the situation in a succinct manner, she took a breath.

"I need you to get horny for your wife."

Miroku stared. He then pushed back his sleeves, clearing his throat and righting his collar. "My time has come."

Kagome's eyes widened and she held up her hands, "wait- I'm not asking to be weird or anything. M-maybe I should explain more."

He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, patting. "No further explanation necessary, Lady Kagome. If this is in service of deeper understanding between allies, I am more than happy to help. Observe."

Miroku breezily walked away, gravitating towards Sango who had set down their son, attention on the crawling toddler. Kagome groaned and buried her face in her hands- shifting some fingers aside to witness the moment Miroku's calm blue aura darkened.

For a moment, panic leapt down her windpipe as it deepened into purple, hovering over magenta- before the aura settled on a lush hot pink.

The sound of a slap sounded out, Sango moving away from Miroku's groping hand. "I've told you before; not in front of the children!" she hissed.

Her husband laughed airly, stroking his cheek and giving her a fond smile. Kagome's heart warmed slightly, witnessing the hot pink glow into a warm pinkish red.

I think that must be the colour of love.

This, unfortunately, didn't answer any of her questions.

The possible things Sesshoumaru could be feeling toward her made the miko's stomach twist into knots. She went over what to say in her head a dozen or so times- and then a dozen more. It was no easy feat to wait on pins and needles for the demons' return. Inevitably though, word of his return reached her a few days later.

---

Sesshoumaru had been spotted by the trees bordering Inuyasha Forest so she'd set off alone immediately.

Since the sun beat down mercilessly, Kagome was unsurprised to find him by water. Elevated temperatures were likely brutal on those who regularly wore armour- evidenced by the fact that she walked in on him very much without it. Sesshoumaru knelt by a river, eyes closed and hankimono parted- exposing a thin sliver of firm, pale muscle. His head slightly dipped forward, hair held over one shoulder as one hand cupped cool water and splashed it over the back of his neck. Droplets ran down the length of his throat to dip around his collarbone- some sliding down his back. Sesshoumaru massaged the base of his skull, before cupping more water and repeating the process, long fingers running over the back of his glistening neck.

Kagome stared. She'd suddenly never been so thirsty in her life.

His lashes fluttered open to glance at her. His continued silence prompted her to clear her throat and murmur; "I'm not sure if I've got it right."

"Explain."

Kagome felt a blush rise to her cheeks and panic erupted in her chest. She suddenly wasn't ready. She wasn't nearly as ready for this as she needed to be. Approaching the Daiyoukai dressed in a white tank top and dungarees had not been the plan but she'd impulsively sought him out without thinking about it.

His voice turned softer, almost coaxing. "What conclusion did you reach?"

Kagome bit her lip and felt the need to explain her process of elimination. "First off; I feel like I should be honest with you. I can see the colours of people's emotions around them due to a spell Shippo used on me. That's why I was asking about magenta. It's...it's the emotion you keep feeling whenever you see me- I just had no idea what it meant."

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider, exposing the liquid honey swimming inside, glinting in the afternoon sunlight with interest.

"I asked Jaken about the colour since he has an insight into you more sound than other people. He told me that magenta was linked to your markings- which can represent intimidation signals and m-mating interest."

He arched a brow, something unnamed flickering over his expression. Kagome began pacing back and forth before him. "So! The first thing I did was follow Inuyasha into a fight. There was a weasel youkai bothering a farmer. I noticed Inuyasha's aura turned a brownish, orangey-red during the fight and concluded that was likely aggression! So I figured you weren't feeling defensive around me," she gave a nervous giggle. Why was the sun so damn bright? The humidity only elevated the spike of nerves pricking the back of her neck.

"Next came the... other thing," her voice dimmed and Kagome evaded eye contact. "I noticed Miroku feeling uh...frisky around his wife. His aura turned hot pink- so it wasn't magenta- not that I thought you could ever feel that way about...me," she babbled. "Hell, I've consulted Shippo's scroll a thousand times. I've run through all the emotions we could find and- gah! I couldn't find anything that explained magenta. I guess I failed in figuring out what's bothering you," her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You went to all that trouble?"

Kagome lifted her gaze to his, loosely holding her arms. "Well, yeah. I kind of realised that I wasn't being fair to you the other day. You shouldn't be expected to verbalise your problems if you're not comfortable doing so. It's a different method than what I'm used to in order to communicate- but if you're happy doing that I won't push you to open up to me."

Since she'd failed to work out his problems, however, Kagome grimly figured there was no hope of them being friends. The thought somewhat bothered her. Sesshoumaru was a solid, assuring presence to have around. It would've been nice to have a deeper insight into the inner mechanisms of his cerebral mind.

Maybe priestesses and demons just can't understand each other.

A shadow fell over her, bathing Kagome in shade. She looked up, finding his curious, burning gaze bearing down on her.

As usual, magenta coiled and expanded around him. So large and encompassing.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head slightly. "Some actions do not require words in order to understand them."

Kagome could only blink, face heating as he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted it up- before her heart burst into overdrive in time with lips pressing against hers.

Her squeak came out muffled, hands scrambling uselessly and finding his shoulders, quickly lurching away from the firm muscle to hover uselessly in the air. Sesshoumaru grabbed one of her hands and forced it to his broad shoulder, holding it there as he explored her open mouth.

The miko reeled, dazed eyes picking up the shining magenta aura before her lashes slid shut. Kagome let out a breathy noise as his tongue slid over hers, reciprocating for a moment before her mind caught up with the situation and- WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE DOING?

Kagome's palm pushed against his broad shoulder, ripping her mouth away from his and panting. Sesshoumaru remained close, breath shuddering slightly, gaze hooded.

"That-" she started, having to lick her lips. "That requires MANY words, buster. So many words are needed to explain what the hell just happened."

The Daiyoukai managed to look put out, eyes turning flat. "It seems your ignorance requires a lack of subtlety, but I do not mind. If it is necessary to have you- I will adapt and explain myself."

"To... have me?" Kagome's breath hitched. Somehow magenta was all she could see- his cheek markings so bold and bright.

Sesshoumaru's jaw ticked, eyes squinting and attention shifting away as he seemed to gather his thoughts and construct them onto his tongue.

"Magenta is the colour of love to inuyoukai."

He said it so easily. After all that confusion and so much second-guessing, Kagome was almost angry with him. Almost. The rest of her brain was too focused on processing the unthinkable thing he'd just said and the implications behind it.

"But...your markings…" she croaked.

"Have little to do with it- though Jaken's explanation was not incorrect."

Kagome shook her head, searching his face. "I just...I'm struggling to understand h-how? I mean, you can't feel that way about me."

"Why not?"

"B-because!" she squeaked, cheeks blazing red. "Isn't love a bit of a leap? You barely know me."

Sesshoumaru huffed, placid features shifting to become slightly guarded. He didn't know when it had started happening for he was in the middle before he even knew he had begun, but more and more, he sought her opinions and company. She spoke well and intelligently after all- had destroyed Naraku and the jewel with such power and finesse that had made his instincts stir. "I know enough. This is not something recent. I have watched... and wondered for some time."

"Wondered... what?"

"If it was possible to bridge the gap between us. Perhaps it was foolish to think we could be compatible."

He had a point. Even a spell hadn't helped her understand him any easier. But when Sesshoumaru slowly stepped back, quiet disappointment simmering behind his blank mask yet clear in his eyes- something like panic possessed her. Kagome grabbed his sleeve, blushing harder.

She wasn't sure why alarm had shot through her- but the idea of losing their soft, hopeful flickering flame before they'd even coaxed it brighter to see what heights it could reach felt like something she'd regret forever if she let him go.

Kagome stepped closer. "Not foolish. This is just really unexpected for me."

Golden eyes roved over her face questioningly.

"The colour of love is different for humans, so it never even crossed my mind that THAT was what you've been struggling with. Jaken mentioned you were displaying for a female but- wow," she murmured, gentling. "Thank you... for telling me. No one's ever said that to me before."

Sesshoumaru's expression warmed, just a touch. He inclined his head slightly and Kagome felt an odd flutter in her belly.

"I'm not in the same place as you emotionally but- if- if you'd want to try this human thing called 'dating' we could give it a shot and get to know each other better."

"Hn," Sesshoumaru gave her a considering look, and she almost thought he might decline before the ghost of a smile tilted up his lips. "What is 'dating?'"

Kagome's face burst into a grin, and she took his clawed hand. "You're gonna love it. It involves a lot of talking."

He gave a mock groan, aura glowing brighter.

Naturally, Shippo passed his test with flying colours. His sensei was particularly impressed by his observation of both human and inuyoukai emotions in particular.

He decided to use the spell on himself several months later, laughing and chasing Rin around the village, happy to see the yellow aura dancing around her. Something of note he noticed when rushing by was a certain miko and demon lord practising archery together in a field. As Kagome corrected his large stance, hand guiding his elbow down slightly as he aimed, the warm colours of pinkish red and magenta entwined, lacing like long, seeking fingers gently interlocking.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome Higurashi #sesskag fanfiction

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ghostofstudentspast · 4 years ago

Text

More than Perfect

Sirius x Reader 🌻

This was requested by @kashishwrites and I loved writing this so much! Hope you love it too!

After a year of imprisonment Sirius comes home to find you and three little ones. I got very invested in this and I love Sirius so much. It’s entirely fluffy!!

“Harry, honey don’t touch that!” you rushed to grab the toddler off the floor as he made to stick his fingers in the fireplace. He let out a disgruntled shriek as you put him down in his chair next to the twins. “You’ll burn your fingers darling.” you kissed his forehead and placed his plate of food in front of him.

While your babies were all munching away on their mashed peas and potatoes you cast a quick charm on the dishes and ran around wiping up the spilled food from their little hands. Three kids was a lot to deal with in any given situation, but yours was even harder. After Sirius had been imprisoned for a crime you knew he wasn’t capable of committing, you were left in the early stages of pregnancy. You hadn’t even had the chance to tell him. On top of that, you’d taken in Harry after his parents died. Dumbledore had thought giving him to his wretched aunt would be the best idea but you fought to have him stay with you. You were his godmother after all.

No time to dwell on that though, there was always something to do. The four of you had been staying in the Black family estate. Sirius was the last of the true Blacks which meant as much as his mother’s portrait hated the idea, the house was legally his. Which meant you could stay there and raise his children while he resided in a cold cell, a hundred miles away.

Tidying up the mess your little ones had made you shook the image of Sirius wasting away in a cell for the millionth time. There were people who needed you here and they needed you to be present. Balancing your twins on each hip, Harry clutched onto your trousers as you guided the three of them over to the little play pen in the living room. You were thankful everyday that Harry could walk now as the other two took up your arms. Balancing three babies was not a skill you had mastered. Harry was almost two and a half now and proud of it. He had been a quiet baby, he rarely cried and preferred to sleep in your room for the first year you’d been his parent. Now he was a bright eyed little boy who loved to prattle on using the small vocabulary he had. It never ceased to amaze you how much he understood.

Your little boy, Leo, was the spitting image of his father. The same dark curls and dark eyes that looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. He was fussy, just like his dad, but in a good mood he was the funniest baby you’d ever met. He was keen to try and stand on his own and spoke often with his three word vocabulary.

Your little girl, Lyra, was a very clever baby. She looked a little more like you, though she still had her fathers eyes. She was quieter than her brothers and liked to sit and play by herself most of the time. She had the chubbiest cheeks and the roundest eyes and her smile was radiant. She usually wouldn’t say much and preferred to point at things to communicate.

They were the loves of your life and you did everything in your power to give them a good childhood. But it was hard. Alone you had to dedicate all of your attention to the three of them. The minor improvements to the house you’d been able to make had been painstakingly slow and required a lot of energy. The kitchen was clean and painted a light white now, the upstairs bedroom had been mostly cleared out of old Walburga’s stuff and the nursery was Sirius’ old bedroom. Gryffindor paraphernalia still glued to the walls. But his mother’s portrait was still a screaming mess and the dining room held an ungodly amount of black magic and there was little you could do about it.

Sitting down on the carpet with your kids you made to entertain the little ones with their plush toys until they’d tire themselves out. Somewhere in the back of your brain you registered a faint click, followed by a knock on the door. You shook your head, you must’ve been tired, the fidellus charm kept you hidden away safely and no one was due to visit until later this week. A second knock made your heart race however.

“Mummy will be right back,” you whispered to the kids and stepped over the side of the playpen to tiptoe through the hallway. You cracked open the door slowly and peered outside, promptly dropping the stuffed dragon you were still holding. “Sirius?” You flung open the door to look at the man standing on the other side.

“Y/N,” his skin was grey and he’d lost weight but his eyes sparkled just the same when he looked at you. A smile broke onto his face and he looked just like the handsome man you’d seen shipped off to Azkaban a year ago.

He let out a roaring laugh and scooped you up into his arms, pressing you close as tears escaped your eyes and a sob escaped your lips. He was home. Your legs were shaking when he put you down and held your face in his hands.

“How-“ he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours desperately. You’d almost forgotten how he tasted, how his lips fit perfectly against yours and how he made you weak in the knees every time.

“They let me out, they found Peter and they let me out. I tried to write to you but they wouldn’t let me until the trial was over. They kept it completely under wraps, afraid of public backlash. but they let me out love,” his eyes shine with tears as they flicked across your face, desperate to memorize every detail.

You’d barely noticed the muttering of Walburga’s portrait, rudely awakened by your laughs and shared sobs. But Harry’s little voice cut through them and reminded you where you were.

“Mamma, lady’s mad!” he called from the living room as Mrs. Black started shrieking at the sight of Sirius.

“Who do you think you are showing your face here again- this halfblood scum has been all over my house and not a word from your cousins-“ you flicked your wand violently and the curtains shut on her once again.

“I couldn’t figure out how to remove her,” you fiddled with your wand awkwardly as Sirius never took his eyes off you, afraid you’d disappear.

“We’ll figure it out,” he smiled gently and kissed you again, everything falling away for the two of you. He finally felt safe, after a year of absolute hell, he was home and you were still there.

At the sounds of your kids making a ruckus you drew back and sighed dragging Sirius down the hall. All he could think was how beautiful your hair was, the low light bouncing off of it. Nothing else mattered but you, except you were talking to him and he hadn’t heard a word.

“Sirius?” You waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Sorry love, you’re just even more beautiful than I remember,” he smiled his charming smile and you felt your cheeks flush the same way they did in school.

“This is serious,” you looked at him with a small smile.

“No darling I’m Sirius,” he teased and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Siri...”

“Fine,” he dropped his arms and looked you in the eyes, you had all of his attention.

“I have Harry,” you smiled softly, “Dumbledore wanted to give him to Lily’s sister but I know that’s not what she would have wanted so...I’ve been raising him.”

“Harry?” his eyes lit up as he glanced behind you at the closed door where you knew you kids were playing, “that’s amazing I- you’re amazing,” he smiled brilliantly at you.

“That’s not all though,” you hesitated, would he be happy? “I was pregnant, when you- when you-“ you took a shuddering breath and looked to the floor. “You have kids Sirius, twins.” You refused to look up.

“I’m a dad?” he whispered as the wheels in his head turned, “we have babies?” he felt himself smile as he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes, “We have kids.” he grinned and wrapped his arms around you in a hug again as pure joy filled his chest for the first time in a year.

“And they’ve been alone for the past few minutes so I think it might be time for you to meet them,” you chuckled through the happy tears that streaked your face.

You turned and opened the door to the living room again to find your babies playing happily with their plush toys and Harry colouring on a piece of paper with a marker. You led Sirius through the room and let him step into the play pen with you.

“Harry, this is Sirius,” you said softly to the little boy who was staring curiously at the new stranger.

“I’ve met you before Harry,” Sirius said with a small smile, “you might not remember cause you were only this big,” he held out two hands to show how little he had been.

“Now I’m two!” Harry held up two little stubby fingers to show his age, “I’m big!” he exclaimed with a smile and kept colouring.

Meanwhile you had pulled he twins into your lap as Sirius asked Harry about what he was drawing. Harry told him in great detail about how the orange blob was actually a werewolf, like Mr. Lupin.

“Sirius, this is Leo and this is Lyra,” you held the twins who were looking at Sirius with big eyes, “darlings this is your daddy,” you whispered to the twins. You’d shown them all pictures of Sirius over the year of course but they were only little and didn’t understand.

“You named them after constellations?” his voice was small, hesitant almost.

“I wanted them to have a little bit of you, even if you couldn’t be here,” you stroked Lyra’s little arm with a gentle smile.

“You’re amazing,” he sighed and looked at you in that same way, as if you held his world. Which to Sirius, you did. “You never fail to remind me how absolutely incredible you are.”

“Mamma?” Leo looked up at you in confusion.

“No baby, that’s dad,” you chuckled and kissed his little head as Sirius fawned over the twins.

“She looks just like you,” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the babies.

“And he looks just like you,” you laughed quietly.

Harry took to Sirius very quickly, recognizing him from old photos you’d shown him. He was happy to try and explain all of his favourite dinosaurs to his new father figure and Sirius was patient as could be. Leo was also happy to have another person to annoy with his grabby hands and loved to be carried around by Sirius because it was “High!!”

Lyra was the only one a bit hesitant to accept Sirius into the household. She was so used to the way things were and always got a little uncomfortable around new people. It took weeks for her to let Molly hold her, let alone Remus. But Sirius was kind and much more patient than you remembered him. He’d sit down next to her and just do his own thing, letting Lyra get used to his presence. Slowly but steadily she too started to warm up to the idea of him being around.

For the first month you constantly had things to do. Friends were desperate to pop round and reconnect with Sirius, he and Remus had a good heart to heart in your kitchen for a few hours while you took the kids out for a stroll. On top of that, Sirius was all for tackling the horrid left overs of his ancestors, happy chucking things in the garbage or destroying them with a curse. You’d managed to get his mother’s portrait unstuck from the wall eventually and burned it in the backyard with a lot of shrieking from the woman.

Things were more than perfect. You could see the effect home was having on Sirius. His bags disappeared, he bulked up well from how much you were feeding him and he almost constantly had a smile on his handsome face. Everyone could see the love radiating between you two. The way Sirius would wrap his arm around your waist and kiss your cheek as you cooked. How you would fix his shirt collar without even thinking. How you looked at each other as if there was no one else in the world that you could love as much as you loved each other.

Before you knew it a year had gone by and your kids were becoming their own little people. With big ideas and bright little minds. You made sure they were kind and that they knew that no matter what, you would always be there for them. Sirius made sure they knew how to have fun and how to stand up for themselves when push came to shove.

When the kids went to bed, you would share a cup of tea or a glass of fire whiskey and talk about everything and nothing at all. Reminiscing about your days at Hogwarts and planning the countries you would visit once the kids went to school. Sirius always held you as close as he possibly could, never wanting to forget the way you fit against him. You constantly reminded him that he would never have to try and remember, because you would always be there with him.

You got married once the kids were less of a handful, always joking about how you did everything in reverse. Kids, house then marriage. Neither of you minded. While you hadn’t planned to have three kids before the age of twenty five, your family was the most perfect thing in the world to you.

Sirius knew he was loved for the first time in his life and he could never be more grateful that he had you. I love you tumbled from his mouth more freely than he ever thought possible. He was determined to show his kids what happiness looked like and how healthy love felt.

House Black would from now on be filled with laughter and smiles and love.

#harry potter #marauders era #sirius black #sirius x reader #dad sirius #sirius black x reader #headcannon #blurb #hogwarts #harry potter fic #hp headcannon #hp blurbs #hp imagine #request

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doctorreids · 4 years ago

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER ONE - the 1

next chapter

summary: reader sees spencer on the opposite platform of her subway station and can’t help but reflect on two memories on why she believed he was the one.

a/n: send me an ask to be a part of my taglist!

word count: 2,270

“and if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed. and if you never bleed, you’re never going to grow.”

The apartment felt completely empty. It has been now for weeks. Despite the fact that they used to come and go in the mornings, the sound of the shower running and the coffee machine brewing did nothing to fill the void of his voice floating through the apartment.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the radio or television to drown out the silence that has been following her for months now.

3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days to be exact.

The cool, autumnal breeze swept through her hair as she walked to the subway. The leaves on the trees turn to fiery shades of red, orange and gold, brightening up the grey sky. The pavement shines with the remains of last night's rainfall, the hustle and bustle of early morning carrying her to the station. This time of year has always been her favourite, the transformation of each season amazes her but there is not feeling quite like crunching leaves beneath your feet, or watching them slowly fall from their trees in the breeze.

He loves this time of year too.

She’s been trying to convince herself that she’s alright without him, that she’s turning over a new leaf, but each day it gets harder and harder to fight the urge to call him. Then she reminds herself of all the times he failed to show that he truly wanted her, wanted her to listen and to hold his hand; all the times he failed to take down his walls, let himself open the floodgates and to grow with her. He failed to change with the seasons. Yet, she wants nothing more to hear the soft timbre of his voice, the tone he only ever used with her. Once again, she has to remind herself that that’s gone too.

Her stop was relatively empty for this time of the morning. Just a few early-risers like herself yawning into their to-go coffee cups, flicking through this morning's newspaper. The platform always echoed at this time of day, no sound other than soft conversations and the occasional announcement from the speaker.

She didn’t like mornings until she met him. Now she rises early, usually getting into work a while before everyone else. She tries to shake those thoughts from her head but lifting her head from the ground she looks to the other platform.

She looks right at him.

She knows it’s not him, he lives in the opposite direction, but her mind is telling her that the messy mop of brown hair, the suit jacket and cardigan combo, is really him on the other platform.

The rumbling vibrations of the approaching train snapped her out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she got onto the train knowing that her day was going to be filled with paperwork and fighting how much she yearned to give him a smile.

“roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool. and if my wishes had come true, it would have been you.”

It was very rarely that the two of them had time off from work but when they did, they spent it together. Walking around DC, going to the Smithsonian or visiting old bookshops across town. It was dusk by the time they got to the memorial. The sky swirled with pinks, reds and puffy white clouds. It reminded her of an old saying her Dad would tell her on the drive home from her Grandmother’s House.

‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.’ It had no significant meaning, he only said it to make her laugh and for some reason it always did.

They had been together for a few months by then, but it felt like forever to them.

The sun hit the pool opposite the memorial, the pink sky etched into the water as the sun made its daily descent. His cardigan was hooked over her shoulders and her hand wrapped up in his.

“Spencer?”

“Yes, my love.”

She smiled at the pet name. He never used them very often.

“Can we make a wish?”

“Always.” He began fishing in his pockets for loose change. Smiling, he handed her a quarter and kept one for himself.

“You know, throwing coins into fountains stems from the practice of presenting gifts to Gods to either appease the Gods, or as payment for a request or prayer. This can be seen as the earliest version of making a wish. European folklore, specifically Germanic and Celtic traditions, used the term wishing wells as offerings to their gods for water.”

She hummed in response, his lyrical voice calming her. She loved that he was an endless fountain of knowledge, she only wished she could give him something in return for all the little facts he gave her.

Closing her eyes, she tossed the quarter into the pool, wishing for the man beside her to remain there. Always. Watching her coin become smaller and smaller and sunk into the depths, she watched as he did the same. The ripples of his quarter disrupted the glass-like pool as it fell opposite to her coin.

Her laughter broke through the silence.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, I’m just… really happy.”

He grinned, “Me too. Though, I must ask, what did you wish for?”

Smugly, she replied, “Now, if I tell you it won’t come true.” The twinkle in her eye told him all he needed to know.

The two walked on, arms intertwined as they walked to the music their laughs made mixed together.

She’d never admit to anyone but she wished he was the one.

Thinking back on that date, she now knows that wasn’t true.

“we were something, don’t you think so? rose flowing with your chosen family, and it would have been sweet.”

That night at Rossi’s was the last time she remembers being happy with him.

That was 4 months ago.

Pulling on that red dress that Spencer loved, she watched as JJ, Emily and Penelope got themselves ready. With Rossi’s dinner falling on the same night as their scheduled girl’s night, they had to compromise.

“Pen! You look beautiful!” Her friend truly was glowing, her dress a bright orange and her hair curled to perfection.

“Thank you, goddess divine, I must say red is truly your colour.”

“You’re too kind, Pen!”

She felt truly happy. Surrounded by her friends, they were more sisters than they would ever be work colleagues. They were each other’s biggest supporters, always there to lift each other up and help each other when things weren’t the best. Together they were one big chosen family. They were her safety blanket when things felt out of control.

Tonight is going to be good, she kept telling herself. She hadn’t seen Spence in a while, outside of work. They’ve been almost too busy to find a moment to just be with each other - no geographical profiling or paperwork. All they wanted was to be able to sit down and watch a movie, or an episode of Doctor Who without thinking of work or worrying about another urgent case.

Looking over at JJ, who looked radiant as ever, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming sense of belonging. JJ made everyone welcome, so did Pen. Something she never really found anywhere else, from school to her jobs before working for the BAU, and now she’s found that belonging she was so desperately searching for.

Emily was an enigma though. Her closest friend, they were both so similar. They failed to let most people in, but after years of holding those walls up they eventually have to come down or are broken down by someone else. They broke down each other’s walls. Emily was always there when she needed reassurance, and likewise although Emily rarely needed it.

She found all she dreamt of as a teenager; a chosen family. All of them were pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

It was not secret by now that Rossi loved to cook, and that JJ would almost certainly go if there was a promise of wine. So dinner parties became a fixture every once and a while with Hotch at the helm of persuading and convincing Rossi to have another. It was always another opportunity to pick up a new recipe to try out at home for Jack.

Walking in, they were met with wolf whistles and compliments from Morgan (which was to be expected anyways) and a rare smile from Hotch. She was not anticipating Spencer to be there early but there he was.

He caught her eye as soon as she walked in, looking her up and down and giving her a shy smile.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” She replies, her eyes full of love and joy. “You look very handsome tonight.”

“Why, thank you. You look beautiful as always.”

Just a small compliment gives her butterflies. They’ve been together for over a year and have known each other for years yet it feels as though she’s a teenager every time he smiles; she’s taken back to the days of high school crushes, school dances and hearts in notebooks. She gives him a small thank you and her brightest smile as they wrap their arms around each other, taking in the other’s warmth. The only word she could use to describe the comfort of his embrace was home. She was home in his arms.

The night went on as it usually did; full of laughter, food and happiness. Memories they would all hold onto until they couldn’t anymore. It made their job easier to know that they could always find happiness within each other.

Out on the porch, everything was still, Spencer’s suit jacket was wrapped around her body. Everything about the night was perfect. To put it in the simplest terms, she was truly happy.

Falling asleep next to Spencer was the easiest part of her day, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his soft breathing lulled her to sleep with the biggest smile on her face.

She had the one in her arms and she never intended to let him go. And neither did he.

Funny how life turns out.

“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?”

Throwing her work back down at the front door of her cold, lonely apartment was now routine. No more laughter walking into the threshold of her home, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee from his cup. Just loneliness.

Photos had been taken down, the memories too painful to walk by every day, and with nothing to replace them with, the tables, walls and fridge lay bare of any memory of what once was. Pulling out leftovers from last night’s dinner, she waits for the low ding of the microwave as she steps out of her shoes and jacket. Cooking, even three months on, is lonely now too since they used to do it together. But she supposes, they did everything else together too.

She opens another cheap bottle of wine. It’s Friday, Saturday can deal with her hangover.

Tucking her legs into her chest, she cradles the glass of wine in one hand. The orange glow of the streetlights below illuminate her living room. Staring out into the street, she feels it again. That aloneness. It comes and goes in waves, but like any wave when it hits you, it stuns you. It’s a cold and dark feeling. No longer does she feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around her at night, or the grip of his hand in hers. Now, there’s nothing.

Just her and what could have been.

She often asks herself that if things had been different, if they had just talked to one another, what would today have looked like. But then she thinks that’s no use, things would have stayed the same. She changed with the seasons, he didn’t.

Hindsight is a beautiful thing, but it can’t help her now.

She wonders about what he would change. If there was one thing that he would do differently. She also wonders about what he wouldn’t change and what he really wanted.

Did he ever dream of settling down someday? She was never one for a white picket fence life but he made her want it so desperately. Did he ever dream about seeing her in a white dress or running around a garden with a child? Did he ever think about what they would name their kids? Did he ever want any of that?

Sometimes she thought all he wanted was a constant until something better came along. Maybe, she thought, he believed that what they had was always going to be an end table. That one of them would give up and it would be over as soon as it started.

The red liquid swirled around the glass as she tried to resist the temptation to call him, to ask him these questions, to apologise. Finishing it off, she grabs her phone, unlocks it and clicks his contact.

She could never bring herself to change his contact photo. It was a picture of them back in August of last year. Sun-kissed with honeymoon love struck eyes, the photo still made her smile despite all the pain.

She let her finger hover over the button.

Maybe she would get her answers tonight.

#spencer reid #spencer #reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #reidxfolklore

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animeanxiety · 4 years ago

Text

The Soft Angel

~tsukishima x reader~

A/N: omg i haven’t posted in like 10 years im sorry💀💀

genre: ☁️fluff☁️

⚠️warnings⚠️: none! pure fluff! lowkey cringe maybe but cute ahah

🎧currently streaming🎧:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the first time y/n was ever performing on a stage. Y/n was simply used to recordings, just regular covers. But here she is in her friend’s car, where they’re headed towards a bar that her friend works at, knowing the bar lets people perform songs, dances, singing, and comedy. Maybe even some magic if they were lucky. Somehow her friend had convinced y/n to perform at her bar, since she knew that y/n could sing like an angel. “Hey, y/n we’re here.” Y/n’s friend spoke excitedly. “O-Oh, okay.” Y/n responded nervously. Y/n had never performed live, and she was so scared of messing it up. Y/n and her friend entered the bar, Y/n scanned through the people sitting at the bar table and the people sitting at the tables. Her eyes seemed to linger on a certain blonde who was supposedly sitting with his band. She thought he was pretty tall. Taller than her for sure. “Y/n, the person in charge of the stage said your up first.-” Before she could finished, y/n felt even more nervous. She was first. First one up. She really wished she could just disappear at that very moment. All y/n could do was give a nervous and shaky nod. “Come on, you’ll be fine. And you’ll do great.” Her friend tried to reassure and calm y/n’s nerves. Y/n’s friend told her to relax and grab some water.

Sipping on her water, anticipating when she was going to be called up to the stage, y/n found her eyes, wandering around the room. She saw a few paintings and a wall full of sticky notes. Y/n figured that maybe she could post a sticky note on the wall. Walking up to the little table, in front of the sticky note filled wall, that had 5 different colours of sticky notes, beige, coral pink, a muted green, baby blue, and a light yellow. Y/n went for the light yellow sticky note, when she found her hand collided with a hand bigger than hers. She looks up to see the blonde she noticed earlier. “My bad,” the blonde, who had golden-brown eyes, spoke. “No it’s alright,” Y/n reassured. She noticed he was trying to go for the green one, so y/n passed it to him and a pen. He nodded and started to draw a little dinosaur on it. Y/n decided to draw a moon and stars. She had always loved constellations as a kid.

Finishing up the small sketch y/n made on her sticky note, she didn’t realized that the blonde stayed and watched her draw. “Cool,” he spoke, y/n was slightly frightened, assuming that he had left earlier. “Thanks, yours too” she gave him a sweet smile. “You performing tonight?” Y/n asked, “Yeah, me and my band. No vocalist though. We’re third on the stage.” He explained. “Lucky, at least you’re not first, Y/n, My name is Y/n.” She introduced. “Kei. Good luck up there. I need to head back” Kei remarked. Y/n nodded in response.

Now was the time for y/n to hop on the stage and sing her heart out. Her heart was pounding. She was so very nervous. Y/n scanned the room for her friend but no where to be seen. Until her eyes found Kei, they made eye contact and his eyes shouted the words, “You can do it.” She gave him a smile that accepted his reassurance.

As y/n approaches the stage, she’s trying to calm herself down. Finally she makes it the the center of the stage, a warm stage light focused on her. Y/n takes one last deep breath. As the backing track started, a smooth soft yet angelic voice came from her.

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His eyes were fixed on her. Her beautiful figure. Kei couldn’t help but stare, not just because of her beautiful image, but her angelic voice. It was like he was being serenaded by her. Kei hadn’t realized that his cheeks were flushed red. One because he thought y/n was absolutely gorgeous, and two because Kei loved the sound of her voice. He couldn’t help but feel a weird feeling in his stomach the longer he heard her sing. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach. “Hey, Kei. Earth to Kei.” His orange-haired band member, the drummer, waved his hand side to side in front of his face, trying to get him to snap out of his face. “H-Huh?” Kei spoke slightly confused. “You good, you were staring at that girl on stage.” Kei’s green haired friend, the keyboardist, remarked. “My bad, but wouldn’t she be perfect as our vocalist..?” Kei pondered. “She would, maybe we can ask after.” Kei’s black haired friend, the guitarist, Kageyama suggested.

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Y/n expected it to feel like eternity, but after all it wasn’t that bad. Her friend ran up to her and congratulate y/n, for doing something so well out of her comfort zone. “Thanks y/f/n” Y/n thanked. “Hm? I think someone wants to talk to you, Y/n” Her friend pointed out, Kei who stood behind them slightly. “May I speak with her privately?” He asked. Y/n and her friend looked at each other, then nodded.

Following the tall blonde outside, she wondered what he needed her for. Kei waited for the door to close before saying anything. “First of all, You did amazing, you’re voice was gorgeous.” Kei spoke, but slowly turned mumbled towards the end. “Thank you, I can’t wait for your band to perform,” Y/n spoke softly and sweetly. “Secondly, I know this is a very big question, and most likely you would need to think about it first,” Kei started, “But my and m band were wondering if you wanted to be our vocalist?” He finished. At this very moment, Y/n is very shocked at the question, she thinks for a moment. Y/n knows she’s wanted to take a step further with what talent she has, and decides that she should. “Yes, I would love to.” Y/n answered gratefully, “Actually? Really? Are you sure?” Kei asked, she simply nodded. “Okay, uhm, Great. One last thing. I know we haven’t know each other for very long either, and I know this is out of the blue, but I wanted to know if you wouldn’t mind me taking you out, to like some place to eat? I’d really like to get to know you.” Kei questioned, hoping it didn’t sound too creepy. “Sure, dino boy. You seem interesting.” Y/n grinned, a small peachy blush appearing on her cheeks. Kei couldn’t comprehend how cute it was to see her cheeks turn pink, and her small cute grin. “Uh, here’s my number, I’ll let you know when me and my band can meet up with you,” Kei started, “And when I can take you out to eat” He finished, rubbing the back of his neck, as he looks down to his side, handing y/n his number. “Alright, I’ll send you a text later.” She responded. “We should head back inside,” Y/n suggested. “R-Right,” He stuttered, rubbing the top of her head, pulling the door open for her, “Shorties, first” Kei teased, “You’re just abnormally tall” She giggled. Maybe this was a start of a new chapter to Y/n’s life, with her passion for music and singing, along side of someone who she takes a romantic interest in. And she can’t wait for it.

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general taglist: @sachirou-senpai

haven’t posted in ten years omg

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spacebunnywrites · 5 years ago

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Fenk8- Denki Kaminari x Male Reader

After hours of having to rewrite this piece, another half hour of tumblr simply not co-operating, and a few minutes of needing to convince myself that my piece wasn’t trash... I present to you my submission to the BNHA Server Collab. Our prompt was plain and simple, Pen Pals.

Pairing: Kaminari Denki/ Male Reader

Rating: E for Explicit. And C for Crackhead Energy

Kinks: Cyber Sex, Semi-Anonymous Sex, Penpal Sex, Dom!Denki, Daddy Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Cum Eating Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Flexibility, Dumbasses in love

Word Count: 2930

QUICK NOTE BECAUSE I AM A DUMBASS- Paladin is our boy Icyhot... dumbass needed a real Hero name and in a fic I enjoy that is the one he chose. And Flashpoint is our favourite boy Touya Todoroki AKA Dabi. I made him a damn hero because baby deserves it.

His username had been Fenk8, of which you weren't certain why. The penpal website was known for people seeking out more adult interactions, but you hadn't been looking for that. Not at first, really. Charming messages such as, "Hey sweet thing" and "If we were the alphabet I'd put U and I together" changed that slightly. The message that made you laugh the most had been the U and I joke. Corny pickup lines were the way into your heart. Of course you had to respond with your own corny pickup line, "Did you just shock me, or was it your electric personality?" Of course he freaked out a little at that, which you didn't understand. Fenk8 got a little wiggy when anything mentioning electric personalities was brought up. So you tried to avoid it. But you couldn’t help that he sparked your interest.

>>Hey sweetness. Birthday cake can be any flavour. But birthday cake is a flavour

>>What is up, hot stuff? The opposite of waterfall is firefly.

>>My sugarcube, the oldest person alive was born with an entirely different set of humans around.

>>Technichally… if we made everything legal the crime rate would be zero. I'M JUST SAYING!

>>Woah, sunshine… if we can't see air… can fish see water?

>>Orange is the only colour you can taste. I'm just saying.

Every conversation started with something random. Something that had you scratching your head, or made your eyes go wide because holy fuck he wasn't wrong. It was chaotic, but you loved it. He also tried out different pet names most of the time. Your favourite was Sugarcube. It was cute and different. You loved talking with him, it was like talking to your best friend. Only you didn't know your best friend's name, or what he looked like. Or what he did for a living. But Fenk8 was your best friend, nonetheless. The friend that had the nerve to ask you who put the alphabet in alphabetical order. But still your best friend. Days of talking turned into weeks. Weeks into months. The two of you had yet to share photos of yourselves yet, and that was fine. He sent you pictures of dogs he saw on walks, of beautiful flowers, and occasionally the most beautiful sunrises. He worked strange hours, often all over Tokyo and surrounding cities. But it just meant you never got the same scenery twice. Once he had been in the same area as you, sent photos of the bakery you worked at. He didn’t know you worked there, just sent a picture of a little pastry you had made. Said it reminded him of you. That same day Chargebolt had come in and bought one of your pastries. The two of you were excited for different reasons that day. Him because he found out that you made pastries, you because your favourite hero had bought something you made and even came up after and said it was delicious. You hadn't told him about that, you did tell him that you had a small obsession with the electric pro hero. Your potential friend(?) didn't need to know that your favourite sleepwear was an oversized t-shirt from the very first line of Chargebolt merch.

>>Hey sweetheart! Saw the cutest little dog today, thought you would love him as much as I did. His name was Chowchan!

>>How was your day??? I hope you didn't work too hard! I've missed talkin' to ya. Sorry I've been so busy, sweetcheeks.

Attached to his messages was a picture of the most obnoxiously fluffy Chowchow curled into a ball at the feet of… holy fuck was that Pro-Hero Dauntless!? Fenk8 got that close to the Number One hero, got a picture of his dog, and it looked like they were having a casual conversation based on the flush covering Dauntless' cheeks and the adorable pikachu bag you knew belonged to Fenk8 sitting beside him. Just what did Fenk8 do for work that he was chummy with a pro!? Reporter? Maybe he was a PR agent? Or a personal assistant? The last two would make a lot of sense, given that he travelled a lot for work.

<<OH MY FUCKING GODS FENK8. YOU GOT SUCH A CUTE PICTURE OF CHOWCHAN!

<<you even got Dauntless out of his hero gear, sitting still… a god. You're a god.

After a few moments of silence, your phone dinged with another notification.

>>I guess Dauntless is your favourite pro then? Makes sense, he is pretty hot.

<<No? Chargebolt is my favourite. He's been to my bakery a few times, compliments my pastries. Sure, his quirk has a pretty big drawback… but over the years he has really gotten good at controlling his output. Did you see his most recent thwart of a bank robbery!? He got the emergency backups back up and running using his quirk! And when he let himself be the backup generator for the children's hospital last winter…

<<Sorry… rambling. I just… Chargebolt is the best. Some are born for greatness, others have to work for it. He works for it. He said my Lemon Puffs are his favourite, which is good because he inspired them. The popping candy in the dough represents static electricity! I can't believe that Chargebolt likes my sweets… sorry. I'm sure you don't want to talk about pros.

>>Honestly, reading you so passionate is amazing. I can't believe that someone would be so vocally passionate about a hero only in the top fifty. Ground Zero, Dauntless, Flashpoint, Paladin… even Uravity and Froppy. I hear so much about them. But never someone so excited about Chargebolt.

<<He is an amazing hero. I watched his first Sports Festival… all of his Sports Festivals really. I really love him as a hero. But ue never does press events, not like the top ten. And I work when he does patrols. So I've never interacted with him outside of work… but man what I wouldn't give to meet the man. I'm sure you have a favourite pro?

>>Honestly, I do. Red Riot is one of my favourites. Ever heard him sing Karaoke? I'll have to send you a video I have of it. Guy goes all out.

<<Red Riot is pretty cool. But Chargebolt will always be my favourite.

How had you gone off on a full rant about a pro hero? Especially to your internet friend. He was going to think you are such a weirdo now. But apparently he didn't, because he requested a faceless video call for that night. Something about needing to get off, and hoping you would help. Sure, he was a little more smooth than that, but all you cared about was actually getting to see part of Fenk8. You two had only done something similar once, and it had been through text alone. Now you got to attach a voice and a faceless body to Fenk8. You only hoped you still found him sexually attractive after this. What if he was too muscular, like Red Riot. Or covered in deep scarring like Flashpoint. Not that you didn't find them attractive, but with Chargebolt as the man in your fantasies anyone else would pale. He was your number one fantasy, could you really be blamed though? It didn't occur to you that Fenk8 could be a creepy old man, or a murderer or something. Surely the man who seemed chummy with Dauntless couldn't have even an evil bone in his body. Dauntless was too pure to be friends with someone who was genuinely bad.

So when the evening rolled around you found yourself in just an oversized fleece sweater and a pair of black boxer briefs. Your already straining erection begging to be touched as you looked over the thin yet very toned torso before you. Fenk8 was built just like you imagined Chargebolt would be. Lean and just toned enough to show he worked out. You noticed a faint glimmer in his nipples, holy fuck Fenk8 had them pierced! A tiny barbell in each dusky nipple, catching the light just right every time he moved. Below that was a navel piercing, man did he have a lot of piercings apparently. Because he had mentioned his tongue, and webbing in an earlier message you guys had shared.

"Like what you see, Sugarcube?" You could hear the smirk in his words. And the chuckle he made when you whimpered an affirmative was divine. "Why don't you take that sweater off, I had a long day at work and watching my Sugarcube stroke himself would really make my day." The man already stroking himself. A nice thick cock in his hand, nestled nicely beneath a cute nest of blond curls. Faintly you wondered if you would ever get to sit on it, positive that it would be a perfect stretch. Quick to comply you pulled the sweater over your head and let him see your chest in its entirety. A deep blush staining your chest, lower lip pulled between your teeth. Removing your underwear took a little more courage, your member was not as nice to look at as Fenk8's. You would call Fenk8's cock attractive. Thick, long, nicely curved. You would probably call yours cute. It was smaller than his, and looked smaller beneath your curls that were a little darker than the rest of your hair.

"That's a good boy. Now why don't you stroke yourself for Daddy. Let me hear you whine and whimper for my cock to stretch you out." You imagined a wicked smile on his face as he spoke. Eyes locked on the cock in his hands, mouth falling open when you finally noticed the glimmering bits of metal. A three piece bottom ladder, a two piece scrotum ladder, his lorem, a King’s Crown and an Albert. Eight piercings in his dick alone. Was there anywhere he didn't have pierced?!

"Y-yes, Daddy." Finally spoken as you wrapped a hand daintily around your length and began to softly stroke. A soft whimper ringing out before you could stop it. You had been pent up all day, ever since the message he sent asking for this call. Already your body threatened to betray you and make Fenk8 think you were some pathetic virgin. Which you weren't! And even if you were… it was no one's business.

"F-fuck!" You whined out and tensed as you came. Embarassed that you finished so quickly. But it wasn't entirely your fault. Fenk8 got you so worked up earlier. White ropes splattering your chest and stomach as you tried to hide your face from him while slowly slumping down.

"That was so hot baby. A few strokes and you're already cumming for Daddy. I'm so proud of you for wanting to make me happy. Want your reward, Sugarcube?" His voice was thickened, dripping like honey as he spoke to you. Opening your eyes you saw his hand lazily stroking over his length while the other reached toward the camera to adjust it. Raising it and- HOLY FUCK. Fenk8 is Chargebolt.

"Hey, Sugarcube. Heard you have a favourite pro." His charming smile on full display, the hand that had adjusted the camera shooting you a finger gun. Your eyes went wide and he licked over his lips. That tongue piercing you dreamed of, the one positioned a little off to the left, darting out and teasing you. The blond kept amber eyes locked on your frame while keeping the slight motion of him playing with his dick.

Never once did you think that Chargebolt would be a dominant. Or have a daddy kink. Nor did you think he would ever call you cumming in less than thirty seconds hot. Yet here he was with a straining erection, his plush tip glistening with pre, demanding you call him Daddy. Honestly, you had never been more aroused either. "Ch-char… holy fuck." Your own words stammered and stuck in your throat. The blond chuckling warmly as you seemed awestruck.

"Don't be like that, Sugarcube. Your mouth has better uses. Clean yourself up. Scoop all that cum into your cute little mouth. Show Daddy how badly you want his cum." Instructions you quickly followed. Two fingers sliding through the mess on your belly and bringing it to your waiting mouth. Lewdly moaning to make sure your dream man had the best show in the world. You wanted him to never end this, and if happily eating your own cum was what he wanted… it was what he would get. Your tongue pushing apart your fingers to clean between them before you repeated the action. Another scoop of your own cum dancing on your tongue. Fuck, were you already getting hard again? You supposed that was the best part of cumming so quickly anytime you got into it, you were always ready to go again real soon. Apparently he noticed you growing hard too, because your next instructions followed not long after.

"Sugar cube, you're going to cum directly into your own mouth this time. Lay on your shoulders, and bend those pretty legs over to rest at your head. Use the wall to help support you if you need to. I just wanna watch you get all cute and cum drunk on your own cum. Can you do that for Daddy?” His instructions weren’t hard in theory. But actually maneuvering your body to make it work was actually kind of hard to do. But after a few minutes, and comments from the man about how juicy your ass looked, you managed to get the position perfect. Your tight asshole on display as well, but Chargebolt wasn’t looking for that yet. He wanted you to eat your own cum. Tentatively you began to stroke your length again, at least you would last longer than thirty seconds this time. You hoped so at least. It would be pretty fucking embarassing if you only lasted less than a minute again. You might as well just end the call, move away from Japan, change your name., and start a new life as a Norwegian sheep farmer or something if that happened. Premature ejaculation wasn’t cute, no one would want you if they knew you only lasted a few seconds. Your soft moans filled the air, and you felt something bubbling in your stomach. Only a few strokes in and already you were getting closer by the second.

“Cum for me, Sugarcube. Open your mouth and cum on that pretty tongue of yours for Daddy. I love how quickly you cum. I can already hear how needy you are. Just like last time, you get so pink when you need to cum. And look at all your precum dripping onto your pretty lips. Perfect lips for wrapping around Daddy’s cock. Cum for Daddy so he can cum too.” Honeyed words low and sultry. If you opened your eyes you would see his hand flying furiously over his length. The blond trying to cum at the same time you did. But he wouldn't get there before you did, already you were spilling down into your waiting mouth. Groaning at the slightly sweet taste blossoming over your tastebuds. Legs collapsing by your head, your body almost falling off the bed as you tried to right yourself again.

It was amazing the sight you saw. The blond man, basically a twink in his own right, completely debauched. Chest covered in his own spunk, a dazed look on his face, both thumbs sticking up as he blinked a few times as his only response to you asking if he was alright. Did he always overcharge when he came? Was this normal for him? Part of you wanted to try and contact someone to check on him, but the better part of you knew to just give him a few minutes to recover. Grabbing a tissue from your bedside table and cleaning your chest off slowly, keeping an eye on the man filling your laptop screen. Making sure he didn’t like, die or something. Could you die from cumming to hard? Was it possible for his quirk to completely fry his brain? But then you heard him say something other than whey. At least he wasn’t brain dead. That was good.

“Denki. S’my name. Use it… Kaminari Denki.” Words slightly slurred, but clearly understandable. He was giving you open permission to not only use his name… But his given name. Holy fuck. Of course you whispered back your own name. Letting him know he was free to use yours. The two of you had a good connection, and continued this on for a while longer.

BONUS

“So… Denks. Why the ever loving fuck did you choose Fenk8?” It was Kirishima that asked that while you all lounged on your couch. The entire squad knew how you and Danki got together, apparently he never shut up about you in the beginning. Always mentioning the really cool baker guy that made the best sweets. It was actually Bakugou that stole Denki’s phone and made the request for the video call that night. Tired of hearing the electric blond complaining over how awesome you were.“Heh… Funny story. It was supposed to be Denk8, but I misspelt it while signing up and didn’t notice. Cn’t change your username, even if you’re a pro apparently. If you said it out loud it was supposed to sound like my name. The 8 was for my di-” Cut off by a pillow thrown at him by Hanta while Mina died laughing. You even couldn’t help the laughter as you heard what was shouted through the pillow over his mouth. “-CK PIERCINGS! BECAUSE I HAVE ONE FOR EACH INCH OF MY COCK!”

#denki #kaminari #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #chargebolt #reader #male reader #fanfic #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #chargebolt x reader #yaoi #listen this is a whole mess #bnha harem server #server collab #bnha server collab #dumbasses in love #denki is pretty chaotic

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vampiric-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Enlightenment

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 3 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: Your secret investigation picks up speed and you finally talk to Jasper. As the evidence piles up, you wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake. A surge of courage paves a new course for your future.

Word Count: 2,814

A/N: !!!!!!!!

Your finger hovered over the call button as you stared at Jasper’s name with intent. Your hairs stood on end as the chilly night air forced you deeper into the thick blankets enveloping you. The bitter cold clouded your windows as midnight approached, and the soft pitter-patter of rain splashing on the roof served as a comforting lullaby. Heavy eyelids threatened to fall as Jasper’s name blurred. You tapped the screen.

‘Hey,’

The word sat in the text box and waited for you to press send. It was the third time you had tried to contact him that night. First craving to hear his voice, knowing that his words and his time in that moment would be only for you; and then settling for a message you would never send. What if, after he felt he’d resolved everything, that would be it? No more talking? Those ideas were enough to make you shut the screen off and leave the phone on charge.

You wanted this to be a chance for a beginning, not an ending. It was his choice to not want to be with you, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be near you. As painful as his sheer loyalty and devotion to Alice was, it only caused you to like him more. Long forgiven were his shameless brags about his girlfriend; they made you blush when you imagined him talking about you.

As your head sank into your pillow, thoughts of affection lulled you to sleep; and dreams of soft lips and firm hands carried you through the lonely, frigid night.

At school, life went on. Jason proceeded to pine after Eric Yorkie, just as you pined after Jasper. Alice continued to greet you whenever she saw you, but the other Cullens had faded into the background. As you walked into your English class expecting to see your neighbouring seat empty again, somebody was already sitting there, nibbling on a pencil.

Bella Swan wore her hair in a low, messy ponytail. She tugged at the sleeves of her flannel. “H-Hey,” she said as you approached. “You’re (Y/N), right?” Your heart fluttered; not because she knew your name, but because she likely heard it from a Cullen - and you hoped it was Jasper who had mentioned you. You slid into your seat beside her, tripping over her old orange backpack on the way. She dragged her bag out of the walkway and stammered a quick, “sorry.”

“You’re Bella Swan?” You feigned ignorance. Bella nodded. “You’re dating Edward, right?”

Her shoulders seemed tense. “Y-Yeah, for a while.”

“So how come you switched classes?” Did Jasper make her so he could get away from you?

“Oh, uh, the admin ladies just said another student wanted to switch due to a class conflict, so I said I didn’t mind.” Wanted. Jasper had chosen to distance himself from you, and the reminder made you skip a breath.

“I haven’t seen Edward around today, did he skip school without you or something?” You changed the subject before you could cry, still careful to not pry too hard with Bella. This was a chance to dig deeper into the Cullens and their secret.

“Oh… he isn’t feeling well, so he’s at home.” Bella Swan was a terrible liar. She had so many tells and nervous habits, you couldn't believe her father was the chief of police. Bella stopped tugging at her flannel sleeves and instead rolled them up to her elbows. You would never have seen it if she hadn’t raised her arm to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear—but there it was; clear as crystal. A scar marred the inner side of her wrist; lighter than the rest of her skin and raised. A human bite.

Never had you noticed, despite all your pining for the Hale boy, that none of the Cullens ever ate anything. Emmett and Rosalie’s trays held a few pieces of fruit, whole and untouched, until Alice and Jasper joined them in dumping their food in a nearby trash can. They never eat or go to the bathroom. You had thought more about how safe your thoughts were and deemed that most evidence you had towards mind-reading pointed at Edward. It was Edward who put words into your mouth—and even Alice pointed her finger at him in the phony story she had tried to feed you. You would test that theory today and not hide your thoughts to see what would happen.

Reciting the proof you’d gathered in your head, there was a word on the tip of your tongue. A very strong accusation—one that was mythical and insane, but you couldn’t shake the idea since you saw Bella’s bite mark. The notebook on the table was open to your ‘Cullen’ page, and you were near enough to observe their irises from where you were sitting. You just needed to act nonchalant about it.

You hadn’t updated your notebook for a week as you hadn’t gotten close enough to any of them to have a proper look. But your table was only ten strides away from theirs. You clicked your pen. Monday, Emmett, gold. Jasper, gold. You took a bite out of your sandwich, creating a gap in glances so as not to draw their attention. Rosalie, gold. Your heart was racing. Alice, gold. You glanced back at the previous entry just to be sure, but the black ink told no lies. Rosalie and Alice’s eyes had changed. Your hand moved, and the words formed on the paper in front of you.

Get close, check for contacts.

It was the last logical explanation for any of it; and while Jasper’s eyes never changed, he would be the easiest Cullen to talk to today as he was still waiting to apologise and give you his own phony explanation. After lunch, it didn’t take long for you to find Jasper waiting outside one of his classes. All it took was one look for him to follow you out to a quiet space behind one of the back buildings on campus.

His Southern twang made your heart melt. “You didn’t call. I thought you weren’t ready.”

Why didn’t his biological sister sound Southern?

“I wanted to do this in person.” You took care to seem assertive, despite your teeth threatening to chatter and your palms sweating.

“(Y/N), I’m not even sure where to start…” Jasper began apologising, just as his adopted siblings and girlfriend did before him; repeating the same so-called explanation supposed to make everything go away. You tried to focus on your goal instead of the way his voice broke, or the way the tips of his strawberry blonde hair brushed against his strong jawline. Concentrating on his eyes, you were looking for a very thin line—one that would give away a contact lens. But his eyes were flawless, clear, and natural. A chill crept up your spine.

The more Jasper spoke, the more you heard that his manner of speaking sounded dated at times. It came and left like each beat of a butterfly’s wing, but it was noticeable to somebody already on that train of thought. That word that came to you earlier threatened to slip from your tongue if you weren’t careful; and you restrained it by clenching your teeth.

“I understand,” you replied once Jasper had finished reciting the script they had given him. A swift wind of courage blew through your body as you straightened up. “And I’m sorry for making you stew in guilt for this long. I guess I was just afraid to approach you.” You twisted the knife. “But even Alice said, it’s not like any of you bite, right?”

Jasper’s gaze morphed from sincerity to one that pierced through you. His body turned rigid, and his eyes squinted ever so slightly. “That’s right. We gave you one hell of an impression. But as you can see, that impression was wrong, and we’re just average people like you.” The double-edge in his words threatened to cut you. “So, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

The suspicion that drove you suddenly came to a halt; replaced by a warm feeling of satisfaction and comfort. It was just like that time you had that confrontation with Jasper and Edward, and you felt soothed; but this time, you were conscious of it. So, you soldiered on through this strange, artificial complacency and tried to hold on to any shred of logic you had left.

“It’s weird how whenever my anger or difference of opinion becomes inconvenient for you, I suddenly feel this strange toggling of my emotions.” The cosy aura strengthened. You remained aware. “It’s almost as if you’re controlling it somehow. Just like how Edward knows what I’m thinking and Alice has no trouble finding me. But there’s nothing to see here, right?”

Jasper stopped whatever it was he was trying to do and gave you an incredulous look. “Come with me.”

He started walking, never turning back to check if you were following, towards an outline of trees in the distance that led to the forest. You walked in the opposite direction, back into the school. Now that your theory was all but confirmed, you wouldn’t follow any of his kind into further seclusion. Entering the nearest building, the gym, you sat on the bleachers and pulled out your notebook. There would be enough witnesses surrounding you to ensure your safety. You dug around in your backpack for a loose pen and clicked it.

The Cullens are vampires.

- Edward, mind reading

- Jasper, emotions, cold skin

- Bella, bite scar on arm

- Alice… extreme knowing???

- Never eat

- Never use bathroom

- All look the same, not biologically related

- Eyes change colour, no contact lenses

You slammed the book shut and stuffed it back in your backpack. Clenching your car keys, you felt eyes on you. On your hands, on your back, on your face. Fear took over your mind as abandoned all logic and raced out of the gym and into your car; darting your eyes left and right for any angry vampires waiting to murder you to conceal their secret.

This was a mistake. A horrible mistake. You should have told someone where you were going, and who you were going with so the Cullens would be accountable. The engine roared to life as you slammed your foot on the accelerator. What if they killed your family over this? You swerved, narrowly missing a police car in an intersection. Red and blue lights flashed behind you as a siren sounded. Shit. You pulled over in a side street and rolled down your window.

The officer pulled in behind you, taking his time to get out of the police car. You tapped your fingers on the dusty dashboard, checking your side mirror to see what was taking so long; only to watch as Chief Swan himself shut his car door and strolled over to your side window.

“Everything all right over here?” He put his hands on his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry Officer—I mean Chief Swan—I’m in a hurry to get home, I’m not feeling well.” Your knuckles whitened as you clenched your fists.

“You have a licence with you?” He was holding a clipboard and a pen. The last thing you needed was a fine on top of everything else. You handed him your licence and tried to look as pathetic as possible. “Well, (Y/N),” he read your name, “must be one hell of an illness.”

“I’m really sorry, Chief Swan. I was feeling anxious at school and I needed to get out of there and back home where I’ll feel better.”

Chief Swan sighed. “I can drop you off, and my partner will drive your car home.” He gave you a stern look. “I won’t fine you this time. Just drive more carefully? Maybe let somebody else drive if you’re this stressed out?”

You nodded fast. He motioned for you to get out of the car.

The drive back to your place was silent. You contemplated asking him how he felt about his daughter dating one of the Cullens to see if he’d spill anything; but there was nothing left to dig for. Jasper didn’t have to say the word, and neither did you, for your discovery to become clear on both ends. You tried to steady your breathing as the police car stopped by the curb outside your house. Your own car pulled into the driveway as the other officer locked the door behind him and crossed his arms.

Your legs shook as you exited the police car, the other officer handed you your keys. “Go inside, get some rest,” Chief Swan said as you looked back at him. “We’ll have to contact a parent or guardian, so I’ll stop by later tonight when they’re home. You’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Y-Yeah, thanks.”

Chief Swan and the other officer watched you enter your front door before they drove away.

You scurried to your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed with your backpack still on. Hot tears burned your cheeks as they dripped down to your chin; your snotty nose forcing you to breathe through your mouth. It was dark by the time you had calmed. You slid your backpack from your shoulders and kicked it against your pillows. Wiping your face with shaking hands, you pressed your nose to the glass window and peered out. No vampires waiting to kill me.

Temporary relief washed through you. You were safe now, but what about tomorrow, and the next day? What about after that? You walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. The cool liquid soothed your raw throat.

The Cullens couldn’t let you go on knowing what they truly were. It wasn’t as though you would tell anybody—who would even believe you? Even now, with all the evidence you had collected and seen, you struggled to accept it, yourself. A sick laugh shook your core as you imagined storming into Chief Swan’s office at the station with theories about vampires dating his daughter. He, and everyone else in town would call you crazy. Even telling one person what you thought had the potential to ruin your life.

Your teeth ached from how hard you had been clenching your jaw earlier, and your chest felt so tight that it hurt to breathe. You finished your water and washed out the glass. It wasn’t that late yet, but after the events of the day all you wanted to do was curl up under your blankets and try to sleep.

Thump.

The sound came from your bedroom. You crept against the wall, keeping close to the shadows. What if they want to kill me right now?

You exhaled roughly. They couldn’t kill you. Forks was a small town; people would notice if you were missing. It wasn’t something that would slide under the radar… Then you froze solid. All the supposed animal attacks of the past year flashed through your mind, one by one. Wasn’t there a rumour going around about the bodies being drained of blood?

You cracked open your bedroom door, and goosebumps dispersed across your skin. The air in your room was colder than the rest of the house, and you shivered. Your eyes darted around in search for someone, but your bedroom was empty. You sighed in relief as you noticed the sound had come from your backpack falling off your bed. You walked over and picked it back up, rummaging through it for your notebook. A frown forced its way onto your face. You swore you hadn’t taken it out, yet.

Pouring the backpack’s contents onto your bed, you scattered text books and pens to the side. Nothing. You searched beneath your bed, in the space between your dresser and your wall, and across every surface in the room. Drawers were pulled and piles of clothes were frantically scattered as the walls closed in on you. If you’d lost this notebook with everything in it…

A frigid gust of air froze your back before you turned around. Your notebook was missing; and the window you knew for certain had been closed before you left was now wide open.

Tears pricked at your eyes again as you spun around, stifling a scream. Jasper Hale now stood five steps away from you, his impossible eyes burning with intensity.

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