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mvth3r · 1 year ago

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daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.

5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words

a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm

one.

daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.

his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.

he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.

the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”

daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”

you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”

you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.

you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.

two.

daryl was distracted.

this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.

the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.

earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.

and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.

the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.

“daryl, what do you think?”

glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.

“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”

hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”

your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-

no.

daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”

glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.

daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.

before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”

hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”

three.

the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.

instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.

it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.

he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.

while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.

maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.

maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.

maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.

the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.

“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”

oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.

carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”

daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.

he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.

daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.

you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.

“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.

by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.

“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"

maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”

“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.

carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.

now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.

he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.

“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.

daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”

with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.

daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.

you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.

he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.

“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.

you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.

four.

having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.

as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.

deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.

well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.

he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.

daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.

but this.. this was just for him.

your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.

you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.

you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.

“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.

your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.

your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”

and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.

you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.

daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.

soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.

“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”

“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.

daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.

but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.

he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.

no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.

five.

daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.

the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.

“—harder! put more pressure on it!”

daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.

“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”

and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.

he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.

daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.

as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.

—

this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.

without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.

the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.

“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”

he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.

“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.

your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.

daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.

a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”

“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.

“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.

oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.

plus one.

to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.

you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.

it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.

regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.

eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.

“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.

“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”

carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”

you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.

your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.

it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.

they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.

and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.

and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.

even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.

they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.

they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.

they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.

daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.

your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.

you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.

you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”

daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.

just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagine #daryl x reader

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solelifauna · 5 months ago

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With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten.

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close.

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back.

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear.

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide.

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore?

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf.

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

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casuallyanidiot · 7 months ago

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Imagine Being stuck in the novel of a Yandere author...

Kina a soft continuation of this post.

tw. yandere, forced relationship, cosmic (?) horror

You get hit by a truck and end up in a story! Fortunately you're not the villainess destined to die a horrible fate. In fact, you get the luxury of being the main character and getting the hopeful happy end. Unfortunately, you don't recognize any of the plot points or the names of anything.

That part of it sucks, but you figure you could just follow how you assumed the story would go.

But you find it strange how much the male lead looks like that creepy guy from your work. There's a weird pit in your stomach when he sung your praises, and you can't help but recoil a bit in disgust when he kisses your hand. You know that it's your role in this story to end up with this guy, but geez he's so weird. If the two of you weren't in some weird historical fantasy world, you were sure that he would constantly be glued to your side.

Then you realize that, oh, hey you don't actually have to stick in the direction the plot of this world is trying to lead you in.

You find that the Northern Duke is quite cute, actually, and though he isn't as detailed as some of the other characters that were probably focused on more in the novel, he's still sweet enough. So, when the Male lead proposes to you, you politely reject him and run off to be with your new lover.

But when you arrive at the Duke's estate, you find that he's... the male lead?!

"You're not- how are you here?!" You say with narrowed eyes. The male lead merely smiles at you, if not a little confused. "My love? What are you talking about? Am I not your beloved Duke?" He laughs and spread his arms wide as if to embrace you. His skin feels colder than before for some reason, though you try to brush it off.

Your life in his estate was extremely strange from then on. It was like no one else could tell that the Duke had been replaced. He looked and acted completely different from before, and when you asked the staff about it, they looked at you as if you were the crazy one. They suggested that perhaps the two men were more alike than you initially thought, and that you should focus instead on settling into your role as his happy, unquestioning spouse. You tried not to frown, but with the way their eyes glazed over anytime you began to ask too many questions, you didn't think it mattered if they saw or not.

Your new fiancé was rather clingy. Annoyingly so. You had been trying to stand his lecherous touches and less than innocent advances for weeks now, to believe that perhaps you were crazy and had somehow mistaken the Duke and the Male lead for each other like everyone said you had. That it was just some byproduct of getting reincarnated.

But then you ended up speaking to a gardener.

She was obviously just a background character, one that probably wasn't even meant to be mentioned in the pages of this novel. She didn't even have a face, and her voice was disjointed and soft. When she spoke, her words echoed in the back of your brain as if she wasn't even meant to speak.

"The lord? He's been acting strange ever since you arrived here my lady," She said. You had to blink to make sure you heard her. To make sure she was actually there. "And his face doesn't look quite right. I'm glad you noticed, my lady. Someone has to."

When you sought her out the next day, she had disappeared without a trace.

You decided that whatever was happening with the estate, the Duke and his servants, was far too strange for you to ignore. Perhaps you had strayed far too much from the original plot and setting of the novel. Either way, it wasn't worth all the trouble. Not when the very thing you sought to avoid with the male lead seemed to follow you. Not when the world seemed to be shifting to try and keep you in the plot.

Wherever you went from then on, You would keep seeing the male lead appear. But it was the same as with the Duke. A character that was unique in appearance and personality would suddenly morph into him. And no one would notice. It was like it was completely normal to have dozens of copies of the same man occupying different names and roles.

You feel insane, like you've broken something in the world.

It's one night where you finally snap and stab one of the weird versions of the male lead where you find out the truth. You're panting and covered in blood, a knife gripped in your shaking hand. There's a manic relief that grasps you right then and there. Because, these characters aren't actually alive. They can't be. Not when they all have the same exact face and voice, smiling at you with empty eyes and words that don't feel like anyone would actually say them if this weren't a book.

You let out a sob of relief that for once you're not being reminded of the man who lurked around the corners of your pervious life. He made your skin crawl with the constant muttering under his breath, with the way he watched you. You did not want to see him in these, awful, awful mockeries of real people.

All you want to do, is have a happily ever after in this stupid novel.

Your eyes go wide and you let out a noise that's halfway between a sob and a laugh. The figure shambles up, seemingly unaffected by the wound in it's side. The face of the male lead, no, of that awful wannabe author, stares back at you without a care in the world.

"Did you get it out of your system? [Name]?" It asks you with a polite smile that doesn't reach the eyes and a tilt to the head.

You collapse to the ground, whimpering as the figure approaches you and pats you on the head. It said your name. Not the main character's name, your name from the real world. You swallow thickly as the puppet of a character kneels down with stilted motions. It's like every little movement is being directly controlled right now. As if it's being written right before your eyes.

"Are you ready to behave now?" It asks like you're some scared pet, and not a living, breathing thing that's being played with like a doll.

Your lips tremble as you nod. You feel something in your mind shatter as you realize that the happy ending written for this world was definitely not intended for you.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #tw yandere #my writing #yandere author #yandere isekai #isekai #horror #yandere x y/n #yandere male lead #fanfic writing #yandere boy #yandere boyfriend

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haikyuubby · 2 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐡𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

headcanons featuring: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, iida, tokoyami, shinso, and monoma!

note: i already posted this, but i wanted to make another copy of it for the aesthetics :3

this will be part 1 to my valentine's series!

❀ - fluff, gender neutral reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎

• bakugo is very...unpredictable

• one day, he is all up on you and is very clingy, and the next he wants to be left alone.

• mood swings are expected with him.

• bakugo is great at gift giving, he pays close attention to detail, especially with you.

• since bakugo pays attention to the little things, he'd be able to tell when you're upset or mad.

• he's probably not into pda, he wants to keep stuff like that private.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀

• midoriya is a great boyfriend.

• he might be a bit creepy, he has a whole notebook dedicated to you.

• said notebook has notes about your quirk, things you like, favorite foods, etc.

• he knows you like the back of his hand.

• midoriya also loves to take you out on the weekends if he's free.

• he likes to hug or hold hands in public, but no more than that.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

• todoroki is unintentionally sweet.

• he will do small things for you without knowing it.

• for example, you mentioned that you loved strawberries but didn't have any at home at the moment.

• the next day during lunch, you open your lunch box and find strawberries in it.

• if you ask todoroki if he put them in there he'd just casually say "yeah, because you said you liked them but didn't have any."

• also someone who doesn't mind light pda, but would rather kiss in private.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀

• iida is a "play it by the books" typa guy.

• dating him would be full of stereotypical romantic things, but it's still special.

• expect this man to have flowers in his hand, ready for you, before every time he takes you out on a date.

• iida's your biggest motivator, he always pushes you to do your best.

• he would not initiate pda (especially in school), but in public he would like to hold your hand or have you hold his arm.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈

• tokoyami is a very romantic lover.

• his aesthetic shows through all the gifts he gets you, though.

• tokoyami gets you black or dark purple colored flowers.

• he is always looking for ways to take care of you.

• tokoyami opens doors for you, carries your books, he's just completely whipped for you.

• he doesn't mind pda at all, he thinks that having you by his side is a sight that everyone should see.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎

• shinso knows you better than anyone else.

• the only time that shinso was afraid to speak his mind with you was when he first confessed.

• ever since you two got together, he's gotten extremely comfortable with you.

• he loves to get you gifts, especially squishmallows.

• every time you two are out and about he insists that he gets you one.

• in his defense, he just wants you to stay comfortable when you're laying in bed at home.

• shinso also wouldn't mind pda, he loves letting people know that he loves you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀

• monoma is a passionate lover.

• anything he did for you, it had to be perfect.

• whether that be gifts, dates, or even simple at home hangouts, he always made sure to do some grand gesture for you.

• monoma loves to give you flowers, seeing you post about it on your story and tagging him in said post makes his day.

• he wants to show the world how good of a boyfriend he is.

• more importantly, he wanted to make you feel loved and important.

• monoma's the type of person to cringe at couples who make out in the hallways, so light pda is good for him.

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gotta-winwin · 4 months ago

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OT13 Reaction -- to you asking them what their fave juno pose is

a/n: hellooo!! im curious what juno poses you guys think the boys would be into... feel free to send an ask with the pose (asks with media + anon are open!) - favourite one gets its own spinoff oneshot :)

MINORS DNI

tw: sexual positions, allusions to sex, boner talk

not proofread, if you don't like it - don't interact!

seungcheol is initially taken aback at the question. you ask it so innocently, so out of the blue - and he can feel his heart skip a beat at the mere pictures that are being conjured by his mind at the mention of you in any of those poses. he regains his confidence quite quickly though, proudly pulling up his favourite pose and eyeing you as you splutter. so, honey? reminds me of that one night we...

throwing up a shit eating grin, jeonghan takes the question with ease. he's been expecting it - he knows you well and ever since you sent him that reel, he's been preparing his answer. i personally really enjoy this one he'd say while showing you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that makes you snort in laughter. 100% expects action later. you were the one who brought it up babyyy...care to follow through?

you cannot tell me this man doesn't prefer missionary over anything else. joshua loves seeing your face through it all, so asking him this question probably isn't going to get you anything you didn't already know. he blushes at the thought of it, shyly muttering under his breath that he likes it best when he can see your pretty face and hold you.

jun blinks, not quite getting what the fuck a "juno" pose is. he nods along as you show him his "options," turning red at the particularly scandalous ones and cringing at the ones he knows ya'll can't pull off. i don't think you're that flexible, baobei. he'd say, more worried he'd accidentally break you if you guys attempted the pose.

like with anything else, soonyoung is excited to answer your question. don't be surprised if he pulls out a powerpoint specifically for the occasion, listing out the pros and cons of each pose and the probability of how much he'd enjoy it. he's passionate with everything he does - and what better thing to be passionate about than fucking the love of his life?? lowkey ends up not being able to choose just one favourite. he likes variety in his sex life, thank you very much.

wonwoo stares at you once you're finished asking, bluntly dropping his answer and moving on with his day. he lowkey thought it was already obvious what his favourite one was?? you guys do it every time?? it's his default?? he calmly (a bit too calmly for the topic) explains to you why it's his favourite, giving you all the stats. well, it's easier to move - and you're more comfortable, and- you'd think he was giving a persuasive essay by the way he goes on and on.

you know better than to ask jihoon without first sending him the reel, asking him to check his message and to watch it. he sends back a screenshot of his favourite pose, a little miffed that this was the reason you interrupted his recording session but answering you nonetheless because he loves you. he tries to return to work, although the thoughts of you in that pose is sending him reeling. ends up giving in to his urges and rushing back home to test out his theory. told you that was the best pose, he'd say after destroying your insides.

again, a strong believer that minghao is secretly very kinky but prefers missionary because it allows him to feel the closest to you. reveals to you that his absolute favourite isn't on the juno pose list because sabrina would be canceled for acting it out - gives you that look, silently challenging you if you'd like to try it. don't pretend it doesn't excite you, love.

seokmin's face is burning the moment you ask the question, stuttering violently through his words as his brain computes your question. shyly points to his favourite pose, cringing into his hands as he awaits your reaction. why would you ask me that right before i have to go to work? he'd complain, hating how inconvenient being turned on could be during practice.

mingyu's got that shit eating grin on his face similar to jeonghan's, although his is more of a i think we should test all of them before i choose one type of grin. you can tell by the way he's eyeing you that he's already picturing you in those poses. i don't know, babe, he'd drawl out, reaching over to grab your waist. i think you should give me a refresher before i pick.

seungkwan's the one that asks you for your favourite juno pose, curious to know which one you prefer yourself to be in. it ends up being a whole conversation - riling both of you up as you discuss the pros and cons of each pose, leading to you guys ending up in the bedroom. who's idea was it to talk about this again? you know what, i don't care - c'mhere.

by the way vernon's looking, you can tell he's thinking about his answer like it's the most serious thing in the world. you let him think, sitting there in silence as you watch the guy contemplate. anyone else would think he was making a major life decision, with the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are full of concentration. finally deciding, he picks one that surprises you. idk, i know we've never done it before but i feel like i'd enjoy it. and you'd look so hot like that babe.

chan sends you his favourite juno pose before you can even ask. a cheeky lil grin on his face, he asks if you guys could try it out, his eyes sparkling with mischief and his boner already prominent. he's imagining you fucked out in the position that he's chosen and he- well, it's not his fault he can't control himself. you'd look sooo hot, babe. he'd persist. i'll take care you.

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astrophileous · 2 years ago

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A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

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ariadnes-elixirs · 3 months ago

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thinking of an isekaied reader and a yandere noble boy...

(gn reader x male noble yandere)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

tw: none for this part

about a week has passed since your impromptu tea party with oliver. everything about that interaction left you feeling unsettled, and him barging into your estate certainly didn't help his case.

as you think back to that conversation, you recall his words. he claimed that the two of you were lovers, but also stated that apparently no one knew. you were able to determine that original person in this body was close to their parents and that their family was tight knit, so why wouldn't they know?

"your" parents definitely would have approved of the relationship, so there is theoretically no reason for this to be a secret. unless it had to do with his parents? but that doesn't really explain why your parents wouldn't have been told...

as you continue to spiral, you hear a knock at your door. your father pokes his head in with a wide grin on his face, "oliver is here!" he said, "and he did provide notice this time! hehehe~" your father seemed to grin even wider at that, "anyways, lunch is starting soon and hes waiting~~" your father wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"why... why wasn't i made aware of this??" you replied in shock. both at the sudden lunch plans and at your father's behavior.

"well he's a nice boy, and this is an informal gathering. him dropping in for lunch isn't unusual, he does it all the time!"

you had been in this body for around two weeks, but your father seemed to believe that this was a regular occurrence. you tried to come off as calm and composed, but the best you could do was force a wobbly smile. "oh. well. uh. i'll get ready..."

your father initially looked concerned, but then seemed to remember that you had been "struggling with your memory" (read: you know nothing, absolutely nothing, about anything)

his face shifted into one of guilt, "i'm so sorry, i forgot, kinda like you hehe, wait that's rude-," he collected himself, "yes, every two weeks oliver comes here for lunch, then the two of you usually spend time together until dark, then he leaves."

"ah, i understand," you said, trying to keep calm. you did not, in fact, understand. as you collected yourself and prepared to get ready for the sudden visit, your father quickly left to go entertain the guest.

...

oliver's eyes lit up the second he noticed you enter the room, "ah! hello!! its been so long!" his wide smile seemed to infect your parents, as they begin grinning as well.

it seems like there was some truth to what he had said, everything you had asked your parents about and what your father described lines up perfectly with what oliver said. even still, something just felt wrong, you couldn't explain it, and you felt a small wave a guilt wash over you as you looked at the genuine joy on his face from seeing you.

you tried to ignore both the guilt and your intuition, deciding to simply get through the meal and try to gather more information. after you steeled your resolve, you responded, "yes, it really has."

after that short interaction, lunch went as expected. you were easily able to confirm that the part about him being your childhood best friend was true. additionally, your parents' behavior seemed to suggest that they genuinely liked oliver, and that he liked them. you spent most of the meal observing their interactions, and whenever someone mentioned your silence you simply directed their attention to your plate of food.

after everyone finished their meals, your parents called for the staff to clean up, but not without thanking them as they entered and thanking them again as they left. your parents then retired to the living room for the afternoon.

with only two people left at the table, you finally had to confront what you had been dreading during the entire meal, but at the same time, you were also looking forward to it for some reason.

oliver meets your eyes and grins,

"how about we take a walk in the garden! the honeysuckles should be blooming this time of year~"

a/n: thank you @ersharyzst for giving me the idea for the last line! i apologize for any errors, i'm too tired to proofread this. i'll try to look over it again soon and fix any mistakes. this was mostly set up for the part, which i hope to release in a couple days!

#yes your parents love him #they see him as a sweet young man who is enamored with their child #and technically they arent wrong #hes just a little too enamored #ariadne's writing - 🩷#ariadne's ocs - oliver northwood #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #soft yandere #male yandere

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owuwi · 2 months ago

Text

ALTERNATE WORLD

POWDER.ᐟ

summary: in the midst of perfection, your responsibilities still nag at the back of your mind.

pairings: au!powder x ogtimeline!reader

warnings: a bit of angst, fluff, not really a warning but fem!reader, reader is in ekko's position, mentions of jinx x fem!reader.

2.8k words

Perhaps, being selfish wasn't as bad as people said.

Maybe, just for once, putting yourself first wasn't going to cause the end of the world.

Those are the words that have been constantly running through your mind for these past few days, these days you've spent with Powder.

This wasn't your Powder, though, you were pretty aware of that —the universe didn't like you enough to allow you be that happy—, yet that didn't stop you from enjoying everything. You deserved it, right? You deserved to experience this level of contentment, of peace, at least once in your life.

Honestly, you were still a bit confused about your relationship with the blue-haired girl. There was a thick, tangible tension between the two of you but she hasn't actually initiated anything romantic —except for clinging onto you, if that counts—. She was quite flirty, that was sure, and it ignited something deep inside you whenever she behaved in that manner. Knowing that this is what you could've had... it brought you such sadness and even envy.

Despite everything, there was still a small part of you that knew this was wrong; a responsible voice reminding you of your true fate. You weren't meant to be here —let alone stay here— and that righteous side of you wanted to leave it very clear.

Goodness, the only thing you wanted was to know what the hell was wrong with your tree.

And now? Now you had to leave paradise to go back to hell.

Apparently, it was usual for you —this universe's version of yourself— to sleep over at Powder's place, so you've been doing that for these past few days. Seeing Vander and Silco so... together was definitely something you weren't going to get used to, but they were truly so loving that it made you forget they were once enemies.

You woke up earlier than the younger girl and headed down to her hideout —workplace— in a miserable attempt of isolating yourself for a bit and simply think, think about how to build something that could take you home. You actually already knew what to do but you were trying to slow down the process of building it as much as possible, also trying to keep Heimerdinger out of this for as long as you could —since it would take the professor like, a day to find a way of creating such a device—.

You were so deep in your own little world, carefully drawing the hextech anomaly that brought you here while enjoying the comfort the big space provided, that you weren't aware of Powder coming down to where you were until you felt a pair of soft arms wrapping around your neck —the sudden contact immediately causing you to flinch. "Morning, jumpy." She playfully greeted you, adding more emphasis on the nickname after observing your reaction, a little chuckle then slipping past her lips in amusement.

"Hey there, i uh—... didn't hear you." You greeted her as well —and vaguely explained the reason for your sharp movement— before also letting out a chuckle, though it clearly sounded less natural than the girl's. Even with the butterflies that fluttered on your stomach each time Powder was near you, you still couldn't help but to initially freak out whenever you laid your eyes on her.

"Oh yeah, i totally realized that." She quickly said, her voice dripping with an affectionate sarcasm, as she slowly ran her fingers through your hair. Her tender action quickly sent a shiver down your spine, unconsciously leaning into the warmth of her touch. "Wow... that's a cool drawing." She broke the silence some moments later, moving her fingers away from your hair to delicately trace her fingertips along the messy lines of the drawing —a faint 'thank you' leaving your lips at her compliment.

"You woke up earlier just to draw, huh? You sure are a real mystery." She later commented in that same playful tone of voice, gently resting her chin on the top of your head as her eyes continued scanning over the drawing. You were about to say something until the sound of a soft yawn coming from the girl interrupted you.

You could tell she was still sleepy by the slight slurring in her words and by the way she was basically slumped against your back. It brought a genuine smile to your face, a faint blush spreading across the skin of your cheeks as you noticed how intimate this moment felt. "I wasn't tired anymore so i came down here, wanted to—... clear my mind a bit." You told her, closing your eyes at the feeling of her fingertips slowly sliding up your arms —goosebumps erupting all over your skin—. "Why don't you go back to bed? You seem tired.." You then added before opening your eyes, not even noticing the domesticity in your words.

Powder did notice, though.

She let out a humming sound —clearly thinking about your suggestion— while her digits continued roaming along your smooth skin. "Mhm... only if you come back with me." She replied some moments later, her voice a low whisper tickling your ear. The blue-eyed girl knew you perfectly, knew what made you react, what you liked and what you didn't, and she knew how to use that piece of information to her advantage.

Oh yeah, you two were definitely dating.

It was kinda obvious but you were just... hoping you two were really good friends. You truly got everything you once wanted in this universe —the realization of how good your life was here brought you so many mixed feelings. How wrong would it be to stay here? For starters, how wrong was it to think like this? You had your own stuff to do back at home —especially now when things were so tense—, you couldn't abandon your people and stay, right?

No... you couldn't abandon Jinx, she was your Powder, despite everything. Despite all the crimes she's committed, all the horrors she's made, she was still your best friend and the girl you fell in love with. This... this wasn't real, it was just a 'what if', you needed to go back and make things right —even if it wasn't your job to fix everything, you still needed to try—.

The girl behind you snapped her fingers in front of your face, causing you to stop daydreaming and come back to reality. "Hey, space girl! I'm not talking to myself over here." She told you, her tone humorous yet honest, clearly not enjoying the way you were ignoring her.

"Sorry! I uh...—was just thinking." You quickly apologized, letting out a sigh before rubbing your face —unconsciously staining your cheek with the dark ink you had on your hands thanks to the messy drawing you were previously working on—. Powder moved away from your back and instead sat down on the other stool, looking at you with both affection and worry. "Yeah, seems like you've been doing that a lot these days.." She mumbled, discretely pointing out your odd behavior of the past few days.

She then gently reached out to wipe away the pigment from your skin, her touch lingering on your cheek for way longer than needed. "What's on your mind?" The girl asked you quietly, cupping your cheek and holding the side of your face with such delicacy it almost brought you to tears. Whenever she held you, she always did it as if you were made of glass —scared of breaking you.

"I want to build something new. For the competition." You revealed some moments later, looking at her with uncertainty as you feel her touch faltering after hearing what you said. According to Heimerdinger, you sought Powder's help a couple of months ago for the Young Innovators Competition and she gladly decided to assist you, and the two of you have been working like crazy ever since.

And now, you had the blue-haired girl looking at you as if you were crazy. Could you blame her? Probably not. Apparently, Powder had been by your side —working— 24/7 on the project, so the fact that you were telling her you wanted to do a whole new different thing was mind-blowing for her. "Wait, what? Why?" She immediately questioned you, moving her hand away from your cheek as a frown formed on her lips.

"I uh—... it's not entirely new. We can use what we already have built." You hesitantly began explaining, your eyes looking everywhere expect at the girl in front of you. How were you supposed to tell her you wanted to travel to another dimension? She'd definitely call you crazy. "I've been doing some research and i—." You continued, flipping the pages of your sketchbook to show her the ruins and maths, though it didn't take Powder long before she cut you off.

"Hold on, we've been working on this for months, and now you want to change it? We don't have much time anymore." She complained, her tone growing frustrated and even mad —despite the change in her voice not being entirely hearable, you noticed it—. She let out a faint scoff and looked away from you, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You were so excited with this project... what changed?" She then asked you in a much softer tone of voice, giving you a look of concern.

You stayed quiet for some moments, feeling yourself getting lost in those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. Not only were you playing with yourself but you were also playing with her, creating memories this universe's version of yourself won't remember once you go back to your own world. "I uh—..." You started your sentence yet couldn't finish it, looking at her with such affection and love —though it wasn't actually the right moment to drool over her—.

"I think i found a way to travel to other dimensions." You simply stated, not even noticing how blunt your words came out thanks to how distracted you were —captivated by her beauty. You then managed to snap yourself out of the trace she induced you in, a silly and almost dumb smile slowly forming on your lips as you looked at her. "I think it's worth giving it a try..." You added, sliding your sketchbook across the surface and allowing the girl to take a look at the process you've done.

It was now her time to stay quiet, looking at you with disbelief. Silence reigned on the space; the faint whirring of the colorful lightbulbs and your breathings being the only sounds listenable. She took your book in her hands and started analyzing its content, her eyebrows lightly furrowing as she did so. "How do you just—... find a way to do that?" She asked you, her voice now playful and humorous once again. The frown and concern on her face was now replaced with a look of amazedness.

"You know me, i'm a genius." You said in reply to her question before laughing and then bitting down on your bottom lip, no longer feeling the need of hiding your true personality. It definitely wasn't good to be getting so comfortable but, right now, you truly didn't care.

Powder simply let out a little laugh at your comment, a bright smile forming on her lips as she looked up from the sketchbook and back at you again. "I'm not sure about the genius part but i'll admit, it's pretty amazing..." She opined before standing up from the stool and taking a step closer to you, cupping your face with both hands. "Do you seriously think it'll work, though?" She unsurely queried, wanting to know if you were actually serious about this whole thing.

Powder knew you weren't the type to joke about this type of stuff but come on, finding a way of traveling to other dimensions? No one has ever made such discovery yet, so how on earth did you managed to find this? Was this the reason you've been acting so different? Many questions started bubbling inside of her, questions she felt weird thinking about. What was going on with her? Was she... distrusting you? She couldn't be! She's known you her entire life! You were her girl and you were smart, she should be feeling proud you made such a discovery!

Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she couldn't help but to feel relieved, not wanting to think like that of you. "Yeah, i do. I already consulted a friend about this and he thinks it's possible." You answered, placing your hand on top of hers —keeping her palm pressed against your cheek— and then leaning into her touch. The feeling of your skin against hers brought peace to her head, those conceptualizations fading away immediately.

"What do you think about it?" You then asked the younger girl while slowly —almost nervously— rising your other hand and gently placing it on her hip. Powder barely reacted to your touch, meaning that she was used to you doing this —more proof of the two of you being a couple. "Well it's definitely amazing but i think it's dumb to start with it now, because it will definitely not be ready for the competition." She stated. Despite how serious she sounded, a small grin started to appear on her face.

"But you are quite dumb so i'm not entirely surprised." She quickly added, letting out a little laugh before suddenly sitting down on your lap. The girl wrapped her arms around your neck and softly started playing with the baby hairs on your nape, twirling them between her fingers. "Which is why i suppose i could help you..." She completed, her voice tender yet teasing, as she gets more comfortable on your lap.

"How nice of you." You said, playing along with her little game before placing both of your hands on her hips —with a little bit more of confidence this time—, looking at her like she just hung the moon and stars. She noticed your staring and gently pushed your shoulder in a miserable attempt of hiding how flustered you were making her feel without even doing anything. "Whatever..." She mumbled, placing one of her hands on the base of your neck and then delicately caressing the skin over your pulse point.

"Now, let's go back to my room." With that —quite suddenly— said, Powder got off your lap and grabbed your hands, making you stand up and guiding you towards the bridge that lead to the stairs —not really giving you a choice. You simply threw your sketchbook across the cluttered, circular surface —accidentally throwing a blueprint onto the floor in consequence— and followed her. "We'll talk about it in bed, yeah?" She exclaimed.

You two walked up the stairs and headed towards the girl's room quietly, not wanting to make too much noise and accidentally wake up her dads. She immediately closed the door the moment you two entered the room and then rushed to her comfortable bed, a chuckle leaving your lips at the sight of Powder basically burying herself beneath the blankets. "What are you waiting for, you doofus?" A faint, muffled voice asked you, her tone sounding almost offended thanks to how long you were taking to lay beside her.

"Can't i admire the view anymore?" You asked her back before laughing softly and then walking over to the bed, taking your shoes off before finally lying down on the mattress. It didn't take the girl long before she basically jumped on top of you, hiding her face in the warmness of the crook of your neck and wrapping her arms around your torso. "Mhm..." She simply hummed, snuggling against your tender skin.

It was obvious that you two weren't going to talk about your new project but that didn't matter right now, all that mattered was the feeling of her small body on top of yours. You nuzzled against the top of her head, taking in the scent of her blue hair, as you slid your hands under her shirt to caress the soft skin of her back. "Sleep..." You mumbled, enjoying every single second of this moment.

You didn't need to tell Powder twice, especially not when she was so tired and was lying on top of you. "I love you..." She muttered out some seconds later, moving her head away from your neck. She placed her hands on your cheeks and merely stared at you for a moment, smiling once again as she admired you. She then leaned down to place a slow, delicate kiss on your lips, her fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on your skin.

Gods.

It took you some time to kiss her back —a good second or two—, your body freezing with the suddenness of her words and movements. Despite your initial shock, fireworks exploded inside of you the moment you processed what was happening, causing you to smile against her lips as you closed your eyes and finally kissed her back. "Love you too... so much.." You said the moment the kiss broke, keeping your eyes closed before chuckling.

In this moment, you belonged here.

Right now, you had all you ever wanted.

So, was it so inhumane to be selfish?

#arcane #arcane show #arcane season 2 #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx x fem!reader #arcane au #jinx x y/n #jinx league of legends #league of legends #arcane s2 #am i the only one who writes random stuff on their sketchbook..?#my stuff:3

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qlossytbh · 1 year ago

Text

im so FUCKING stupid and i accidentally forgot to add tags and i deleted the anon request this fic was inspired from so i will paste it here

“Could you please write one about having a team night round Rossi's but you and Spencer had had an argument before so it was tense between the pair of you so you try and flirt with one of the out of town agents to try and get his attention?”

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧- 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you and Spencer don’t usually get along due to your constant fights to prove who was better. But when the two of you are paired on a case together, hidden feelings start to arise towards the surface.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 enemies to lovers type beat (?), academic rivals (?), fem!reader, typical criminal minds content, jealous spence, mentions of a guy that gets a little too handsy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 4.6k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i get a little carried away with request oops. i don’t think this is exactly what you were asking for but

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had come to no one's attention that you and Spencer were fighting— again..

The BAU team was currently hunting down a murderer that was attacking teenagers at a local campus in the city of Chicago, and all that Reid seemed to be doing these past few days was getting on your nerves.

Wether it was searching the crime scene, analyzing the possible behavioral patterns of the UnSub, or setting down a profile, you and Reid could not stop bickering, driven solely off the desperation of beating each other with whoever could piss the other off more.

You thought Spencer had this aggravatingly, annoying need to prove he was always so much smarter than everyone else, using his wide variety of big intellectual words just to show off.

He, on the other hand, truly couldn't stand how you'd always butt into every conversation you deemed necessary attempting to seem smarter just to get yourself on top of a case. Your ego had been Spencer's main problem across these past few months, but it was slowly driving him off the wall and he found that with each passing day, he was finding it harder to work with you.

The initial conflict seemed irrelevant right now— something about Spencer purposely embarrassing you in front of the the team back when you had just started out in the BAU. Even if it was unintentional, the anger stuck.

You had been so embarrassed, feeling your insides pool with irritation as you questioned why he felt the necessity to correct you so publicly— in front of people you still didn't know.

With time, it slowly morphed into a constant competition to prove who was smarter, quicker on their feet, more widely intellectual than the other, always finding ways to one up each other in conversations— anything.

You were smart and you couldn’t blame him for seeing you as a competition the second you stepped foot into the BAU.

The rest of the team was growing sick of the two of you always whining and bickering. It could be the smallest, stupidest fights— or something so weighty, the two of you wouldn’t speak for days.

However, the two of you got into a fight yesterday when landing in Chicago.

It had been stupid

It started when you "accidentally" slammed the taxi door in his face, genuinely not realizing he was getting out of the cab on the same side you were, even though a side of you thought he deserved much more than a slammed door to the face.

Later on in the day a heavier argument spewed, given since he accused you of being ‘unprofessional’, which had incredibly pissed you off. It was the one thing that truly got to you, and Spencer knew this.

Since then, none of you had spoken to each other and the rest of the team could practically feel the tension. Hotch rounded the table, pressing his hands together.

"So, let's lay it all out," Hotch announced. "Who's starting?”

You and Spencer both volunteered simultaneously. You shot a glare in his direction, which he easily disregarded as he stood from his seat at the table

"So far, we know were looking for a male between the age of 20-25," You cross your arms across your chest and look over at the board with a huff, accepting your defeat.

Your eyes scanned through the evidence and pictures at hand. While Spencer continued his analysis, hands shoved deep into his pockets, you squinted at the words scribbled onto the case file. "The killer seems to have a target preference given how all four victims have been female college students between the ages of 18-24"

"So, do we know which kind of killer were dealing with here?" Morgan asked, flipping through the case files.

"If I'm not mistaken, the last victim presented a alteration in the Unsub’s M.O in comparison to what we've been observing so far, which could ultimately mean we could be dealing with a disorganized offender acting out on—" He stated, turning towards the board, but when your eye caught a part of information in the file, you were quick to interrupt.

"Actually, you are mistaken," You reached over, grabbing the file in front of you in one swift movement and flipped the page as you stood to your feet. Spencer froze and turned towards you.

"Excuse me?" He inquired, clearly unamused at your antics. You briefly looked up at him, only sparing him a brief glance.

"You're wrong. The Unsub isn't disorganized," You jutted your chin towards the board. "We're actually dealing with an organized offender."

Morgan glanced over at JJ, quietly cursing to himself knowing that this was probably payback and not heading in any favorable direction.

"Sure, this specific victim wasn't as calculated and precise as the other," You started. "Up until now, the Unsub seemed to be killing all of these girls with long, tedious methods, such as torturing them, which clearly shows us he feels no remorse and actually finds pleassure out of killing them. Organized crimes are premeditated and carefully planned, so that would explain why we found little to no evidence at the scene yesterday and organized criminals, according to the classification scheme, can tell right from wrong—"

"—But our buddy here doesn't care," Morgan finished off, looking up at you. With a nod, you continued

"Precisely. The pattern of our victims also leads us to believe that he's seeaking some sort of revenge on the girls, since they're all from the same background." You pointed to a few post-it notes on the board. "Right here it says that all four girls belonged to the same frat house on campus—"

"Yet our recent victim did not," Spencer butted in with a shurg, facing you smugly. With an unamused glance, you took two warning steps towards him, maintaining your composure.

"Well, Dr. Reid, if you read the autopsy report you'd see that the newest victim died from a blunt force to the head," Annoyed was an understatement as to what you were feeling towards him at that precise moment. Your eyes narrowed while you managed to keep on the most innocent smile you could. "That means that the attack was out of some unplanned rage, which caused him to lashout and therefore break his regime."

You took one more step towards Reid, suddenly dangerously close to him. Intimidating people wasn’t something that came hard, much less with Spencer.

Something inside you fed off that vast satisfaction that arose when he'd get activated with you. Seeing his breaths go shallow, his whole posture to stiffen along with the habitual furrow in his brows felt like your daily dosis of serotonin.

"If you payed more attention to these case files, you'd also see that the newest victims was our previous victims best friend, so there still is a connection just not the one you've been blindly looking for.”

With that you slapped the files into his chest and stepped back, referring back over to the board.

Spencer gapped at you, opening his mouth before clamping it shut immediately. He fumbled, grappling at the papers on his chest and looking down at them in embarrassment. You felt yourself smile with satisfaction at how his movements became sloppy. "I— I would've said that if you let me finish my analysis and let me actually read these papers."

"Or you can just admit you're slow—"

"So!" JJ butted in, quickly cutting off whatever fight was about to implode in-front of them. "We’re looking for someone connected throughout the campus that would somehow want some sort of revenge on these girls? Correct?"

"Yes." You and Spencer stated simultaneously. You bit back a comment, swiping your tongue against your lower lip, annoyance filling every single nerve in your body while he let out a noise similar to a scoff.

"Here's the plan then," Hotch said, ignoring the two of you. "Prentiss and I will give the Chicago police force the profile. Morgan and JJ, deal with collecting possible witnesses; anyone at that campus who knows anything that may deem useful."

You stood, glancing over at Spencer. When he met your eyes you quickly looked away, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"Reid, Y/L/N," Hotch said, finally acknowledging the two of you with a steady gaze. "You two will assigned search the crime scene to see if any evidence was left behind—just protocol checking, but we need to be sure nothing was left unseen."

You opened and closed your mouth, intending to protest about the pairing but deciding strongly otherwise.

With the intention to remain professional you nodded in agreement. As hard as you found to do so, you waited patiently for the other members of the team to draining the room until only you, Morgan, JJ, Spencer were left collecting the remaining of your things.

As Morgan was grabbing a few of his things with JJ patiently waiting by his side, you walked up to her with a devious smile. "Hey Jayj, wanna change partners?"

"I am right here." Spencer answered.

"I dont care," You shot back, causing him to angrily shove more of his files into his satchel. You turned back to Morgan, practically ready to get onto your knees and beg him for sympathy. "Please Morgan, trade with me— I'm begging you."

"We don’t get to choose who we get paired with,” He started, looking down at you unamused. Your face fell, deadpanning at your friend.

“If you're going to complain about being paired with Reid none of us wanna hear it," Morgan groaned, dragging a hand across his face. You opened your mouth to protest, but he rudely cut you off by pointing an accusitory finger at you. "The two of you have been yapping at eachother faces since we got here."

"We have not!" You both shouted in unison. You angrily turning around to face Spencer, warning him with a glare. “Stop that!"

"It's always something with the two of you," JJ shook her head in disappointment. "You're lucky you two are the smartest members on the team cause we would've had you seperated months ago,"

JJ finished grabbing her things and glared at the two of you. Morgan grabbed his things as well, before turning to you. "Either you sort out all of this sexual tension you've got going on or you keep your mouths shut and get along!"

"What!?" You gaped, taking aback by Morgan's accusations. "Thats not—We dont—"

You fumbled with your words as your cheeks grew hot. You stammered, trying to hit back with something, but inevitably found your mind blank. You huffed, snatching your bag and rushing towards the exit of the conference room "I hate you."

"No you don't princess." Morgan stated as you walked past him and shoved his arm.

"And you boy genius," Morgan said looking at Spencer and tossed her bag across her shoulder. "That goes for you too, either get laid, or shut up."

With that, they left the room leaving a sputtering and angry Spencer struggling to regain his composure after the absurdity that had left his collegues mouth. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and grabbed his final things, leaving the room in a frenzy.

You pulled the cars ignition once you pulled the car into the Campus buildings entrance. You put the car in park as you umblucked your seatbelt, which Spencer started doing not long after you had, following your suit. The ride had been completely silent, none of you wanted to speak to eachother, worrying that if you did another argument would start.

All he did during the ride was read some of the case files while you intently focused on the road. Your hands gripped tightly at the steering wheel and every once and a while you'd sneak small glances at him— not because you cared or anything, you just wanted to see how much more information he was getting ahead of you with.

The building was secluded off to the public and the entrance was swarmed with countless police officers and agents. As you climbed out of the car, you pulled your glasses onto the top of your head and slammed the door in one swift motion. By the time you got to Spencers side of the door, he was still inside slowly collecting his things, which pissed you off. You waited impatiently for him to climb out with a huff.

For what seemed to feel like forever, he finally opened the car door and started to climb out as you waited impatienly. "You look like you're doing that on purpose."

"Getting out of the car? Yeah, I am actually" He stated, finally stepping out. A snide remark came up your throat but wasn't able to leave your mouth given how Spencer towered over you once he strightened himself out.

He unintentionally stepped way too close for your personal preference, but your boundaries melted somewhere in your consciousness.

You craned your head back just slightly, allowing yourself to look into his eyes. Spencer swallowed thickly, suddenly painfully aware of how close the two of you were. An unfamiliar voice reeled the two of you back to reality. "Dr. Y/L/N?"

You practically jumped, swallowing down the urge to yelp. You stepped away from Spencer, blinking rapidly as you cleared your throat. "Uh yes!—“

"Thats, uhm, me—“ You slipped your glasses off and put them into your bag anxiously. "Dr. Y/L/N."

You turned to the Agent in front of you, who held his hand out with an irksomely pearly white smile. You gazed at the man, and you had to admit he was easy on the eyes— a little too stereotypically attractive for your taste.

"I'm Agent Mirthwood, head of the Chicago police department, Aaron Hotchner specified you'd be here to help with the case," You took his hand and shook it. "Wasnt expecting a doll like you."

Spencer didnt miss the way his eyes raked across your body, taking in every part of you with careful detail. You were wearing a silk black button up, along with a blazer that matched the skirt that hugged your skin tightly. Spencer would have to be blind to ignore how every piece of clothing you had on hugged every inch of your curves perfectly, so obviously, whoever this guy was, he was going to be staring.

How couldnt he?

You laughed nervously and Spencer, despite his profiler background, couldn't tell if it was becasue you were uncomfrotable or flattered. Either possibilities made his skin crawl.

"Charming," You noted, not really wanting to give him any more material to chew at. "So, mind leading the way?"

"Not at all." He grinned, placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the building. Spencer followed behind pathetically, feeling his hands clench and his jaw tighten while he watched the guys hand linger where they didn't belong.

Once inside the building, you and Spencer looked around your surroundings, checking over a few areas of the marked numbers and rerunning the supposed series of events in your heads. "This is where the first victim tried escaping,"

You and Spencer simultaneously looked over to the glass window that had been merely cracked. "Can't believe how a murder took place and the campus director didn't even close the place down for more than five days."

"Agent Mirthwood, you said that the floor above us was where Anya Colins was murdered, correct?" You asked, looking over towards the locker. Spencer stood beside you with his hands shoved into his pocket.

"Over in classroom seven, yes” He responded. His eyes flickered towards the pop of your hip. “Call me Ben,"

You looked over your shoulder momentarily, shooting him a polite smile. Spencer bored his eyes into the side of the agents face, slyly enough so that he wouldn’t notice.

"Could it be possible that we take a look across the flooring, you know, check inside any of the clases for some clues we may have missed?" You said, lifting your chin and facing Agent Mirthwood. He smiled bumptiously at you.

"Why I'd be delighted to accompany you and help you look out for whatever it is you're looking for—"

"Actually," Spencer butted in, somewhat protectively if you let yourself assume— given how the tone of his voice had grown territorial. "Hotchner specifically implied we stick together as the pair we were assigned, and we usually work best when just the two of our heads are looking around."

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Spencer with confusion. His tone alarmed you momentarily, and at first you wanted to grow defensive because who was he to boss you around?

You took in the familiar line-out of his clenched jaw and how his shoulders broadened ever so slightly. You noticed he had chosen to stand between you and Agent Mirthwood, and suddenly it dawned you and hit you harder than a ton of bricks.

Spencer Reid was jealous.

Despite the weird feeling nagging at your chest, you couldn't contain how a smug smile began to appear onto your face. Somehow this newfound information cave you a newfound cockiness— you finally found something you knew had the upper hand on.

"Actually Ben," You dodged Spencer, making a B-line for the broad man you had only recently met. You tried looking as innocent as you possibly could, the look you always used to get men right into the corner you needed them in. "I'd actually love having your company. I'm gonna need someone watching over me up there."

Spencer froze, looking back and forth as the darkness in this guys eyes only increased and suddenly— he panicked. Spencer was panicking because he genuinely thought you were going to leave with Agent Mirthwood and he wouldn't be able to watch over you or him, or anything you did with him—

Then he saw it. The way you turned, shooting him a challenging glare over your shoulder towards him.

"You wouldn't mind, would you Dr. Reid?"

“I—“ His fists tightened as he stared at you, stunned. Something underneath his gaze was warning you that you were pushing him close to his limits and you loved it.

“One of the victims was attacked up there and then dragged herself all the way down here,” You watched the agent explain broadly.

“That must’ve been horrible,” You added an almost feather like gasp to your words. He knew damn well that you knew what this officer was saying was nothing but false due to how the crime scene was framed.

“Yeah,” Ben took a step closer to you and Spencer couldn't even stop himself when he pried through, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him territorially.

“Bosses order. The rest of you keep looking around to see if anything looks out of place."

Spencer dragged you all the way up the stairs and into the empty hallway on the second floor. You struggled to keep up, complaining pretty vocally that your heels were screwing up your rhythm, especially in comparison to his long and hurried strides. You finally dug the palm of your foot into the ground and yanked your arm away.

"What the hell is your deal!?" You clamored, knowing you had him cornered. He turned, pushing his lips into a straight line and looking at you in complete silence.

“My deal!?" He shot back suddenly, gesturing towards you in an exasperated motion. “You barely know the man and you're willing to walk somewhere with him alone..!”

You scoffed. "Oh please, like coming up here with you is any better."

"You don't run the risk of getting potentially murdered by me." He said, trying to prove his point.

"You sure about that?"

Spencer looked at you and something shifted behind his eyes. Your face was furrowed with nothing but pure anger as you huffed widely. Spencer opened his mouth and closed it once again, hesitating whether to say what he was about to.

"You're being unprofessional." He blankly stated. Your mouth fell agape.

There was that fucking word again— You felt about ready to murder him. There was adrenaline coursing through every nerve of your body at this point.

“What did you say?” You almost whispered.

“I said you’re being unprofessional.” He stated nonchalantly. You gaped at him before tightening your fist and resisting the urge to punch the crap out of that smug look.

“I’m unprofessional?!”

“Yes,”

“That’s because you’re making it hard for me to work with you!”

He rolled your eyes at you and became indignant.

“Stop doing that!” You barked.

“Im not doing anything,”

“You keep treating me like im stupid,” You pointed a finger at him. “Stop acting like you’re so much better than me when you are not.”

Spencer clamped his mouth shut, seeing you blaze with anger. “Ben would be a way better company than you,”

“Why do you keep saying his name like that?”

You huffed. “Like what?”

“Like—“ Spencer stopped, sucking in a sudden breath as if he hasn’t been breathing since he walked up here with you. “Never mind,”

You scoffed. “No come on,”

You took a dangerous step towards Spencer, now only a few inches away from his face. “Say it,”

“Because I think Ben, pissed you off the most when he had his hands on my—“

Spencer quickly grabbed your face in between both his hands and slammed his mouth onto yours. You inhaled visiously through your nose as you melted immediately under his touch.

Everything froze right then and there as he pulled away quicker than he had leaned in. Your face still remained cupped gently in his hands while your grip was tight on both his wrists as you stared at him, mouth low in shock. A shaky breath left his mouth, and fear was pooling around in his eyes.

You could feel your own chest heaving as you looked back and forth at his eyes, still not grasping what had just happened between the two of you. Spencer towered over your small frame, holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the room. It felt like there was a rope pulling between the two of you and it was right about to break. His thumb grazed your bottom lip and you could practically hear the chord snap.

All the anger drained your body instantly as you caught yourself pulling him onto your mouth with just as much desperation as he had previously done. Your movements were hurried and frantic, as if both of you were scared that at any point this new found standing point would stop disappear and distance would be put between the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for his body to be any farther away from you than it currently was, and not understanding why you suddenly felt that way, angered you even more.

His mouth hungrily moved against yours as his grip on your face tightened. Your hands snaked their way into the back of his soft curls and pulled at them roughly, emitting a groan from his mouth onto yours.

Out of all the times you'd provoked a groan from Spencer Reid, this had been your all time favorite.

In frantic movements, Spencer pushed you against the nearest wall, hearing a rough thud come from behind you but never once disconnecting your lips from his. His hips pushed against your in one rash motion, causing you to whimper softly against his lips, which reached the deepest parts of him

His hands traveled anywhere and everywhere you'd let them. They ran down your waist and stopped at your hips giving them a rough squeeze which only caused you to squirm once again and pull at his hair ever rougher.

Everything was messy and hurried but so unexplainably wonderful.

"Tell me to stop and I will," He muttered over your lips.

"Don't—“ You warned, panting desperately for him to grab you in ways you could have only dreamt about. You needed to feel his hands rake across your body as if he owed it. “Please, don’t”

Spencer’s heart shuddered as he could visibly hear the desperation in your voice. How you were practically begging for this just as much as he had been. How you melted under his touch so effortlessly.

Before Spencer could move any further, a voice cut the two of you off. “Hey, guys!”

You pushed Spencer off yourself with a little more urgency than you had initially intended. You ran your hands through your hair frantically and pushed your skirt down, which had accidentally— not so accidentally— been pushed up. Spencer on the other hand, settled with a simple, subtle gesture of grazing the corner of his lip to remove some of the nude pink lipstick that had smudge a bit onto his face.

He cleared his voice before turning to whoever had called out, but before he could say anything you quickly interjected. “Morgan? JJ? What are you doing here?”

Spencer could’ve allowed himself to smile at the sound of the quiver in your voice and how your body was still distraught by the adrenaline.

Morgan eyed the two of you and it didn’t take any time at all for him to realize what had happened. The shuffled hair, the puffy lips along with all the wrinkled clothes. Not to mention how both of your chests heaved heavily.

“We have an advance on the case but it seems like you two are busy with something…” JJ stated, looking over at Morgan from the side of his eye.

“Or someone,” He added. You tried to find some sort of defense in your favor but came up with none. You didn’t want to even look Spencer in the eye, so you quickly turned and headed for the staircase, when you approached Morgan, he whistled lowly.

“Someone got a piece of genius boy and enjoyed it—“ You smacked the back of his head.

“Hey!” He groaned, looking back at you while you strutted down the stairs, barely being able to keep your balance steady.

i am planing on doing a spicy part two😝

1K notes · View notes

khywren · 18 days ago

Text

I Wanna Love You (But I don't Know How)

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!reader ❛ word count: 5.7k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: smut, pwp, piv sex, oral sex, blood drinking, anxious reader, soft(ish) Astarion

▸ summary: “I knew you'd understand,” Astarion says, lowering his head to press his lips against yours in a kiss that sets your entire body alight with desire. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be lucky enough to kiss him, yet here he is, slotting his mouth against yours and running his tongue across the seam of your lips as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. And for you, it's anything but that. For a moment you forget to breathe as time stands still, and only once his other hand lays on your hip to pull you closer do you realize that you haven't died and that this is actually happening.

OR: A reinterpretation of your first night with Astarion with an anxious/slightly inexperienced reader.

AO3 ┊ masterlist ┊ dividers

It's well after sundown when you slip as quietly from your tent as you can to meet Astarion in the forest. One last glance over your shoulder at the edge of camp reassures you that no one has spotted you leaving, an embarrassment you would like to avoid at all costs.

Astarion has never kept his flirtatious behavior a secret from the others (in fact, you'd wager he does it publicly on purpose with the specific intent of watching you squirm), but it's one thing to let him tease you and another thing entirely to have anyone discover your little nighttime tryst.

You're already nervous enough about this as it is, thank you very much.

When he'd asked you to join him earlier in the evening, your initial reaction had been… less than ideal. You try not to think about it, which consequently means that it's the only thing you can think about. Reverse psychology at its finest.

“What's your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

“By the hells.” An exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, as if he can't believe how oblivious you are. “Sex, my dear. A night of passion.” He leans close, smiles that wicked smile of his. You catch a glimpse of his fangs and curse the heat in your cheeks. “With you,” he adds after a moment, just in case you still didn't get the hint.

Your face still burns at the memory of his voice and the thrill of pleasure it had sent directly to your core. You had almost reconsidered even coming out here, humiliated by your own naivete, but here you were, nonetheless. Not because you didn't want to disappoint him, but because somewhere along the way you had gotten it in your mind that maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.

Wishful thinking, but who could blame you?

After all, what wasn't there to like? His biting, sarcastic humor. The effortless way he moved in battle, daggers as sharp as his fangs as he felled his enemies in a graceful yet deadly flourish of steel. That silver tongue of his, always primed with a clever remark or a quick jab. And that was all without even mentioning how unfairly handsome he was. Most elves were naturally gorgeous, you knew, but Astarion was an anomaly even by those standards.

When you stop to think about it, this girlish crush of yours is perhaps the most embarrassing thing of all. But there's something about Astarion that makes you feel like an innocent, blushing maiden all over again, and you'd be lying to yourself if you hadn't secretly been a little excited by his offer. Even the idea of casually spending time alone with him would have been enticing enough.

So now, here you stand in the middle of the forest, breathing deeply and trying to steady your rebellious heartbeat as you wait for him to find you. It's late summer and the nights have grown significantly colder since your journey began, and when Astarion doesn't appear after several agonizing minutes you consider that perhaps he's had second thoughts after all.

More than a little disappointed, you turn to leave, only to see a figure emerge from the trees at the other side of the clearing. Your eyes immediately fall upon his broad, bare chest, openly gawking at him in the moonlight. Astarion is just as stunning in the dark as he is in the sun – because of course he is. He moves with an almost feline grace towards you, lips pulled back in that familiar smirk of his that you've grown so fond of.

“There you are,” he purrs. His words are husky, sensual, flowing like liquid silver inside every recess of your mind to banish any thoughts that aren't about him – what few there were even remaining. Your mouth is dry when you swallow around the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky exhale. Astarion is standing close enough now that you can catch his scent on the breeze, citrus and something earthy that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says with an arch of his brow. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

You don't anticipate the fit of laughter that bubbles in your throat and spills out your lips, but it immediately breaks the tension that had settled between you.

“Oh, gods,” you manage, grinning despite the way Astarion glowers at you. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and folds his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me? What's so funny?”

The way he scrunches his nose makes him look like a disgruntled housecat, something you find both hilarious and endearing. But you keep that little fact to yourself because you value your life, and instead cock your head to the side in consideration.

“First of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “that's an awful line, even for you. And secondly –” you hold up another finger “– the first time we met, you held a dagger to my neck and threatened to slit my throat. Or was that part of the foreplay too?”

A turbulent wave of emotions flicker across Astarion's face before it settles on a petulant sort of pout.

“Yes, well, difficult as it may seem to believe, I made a mistake,” Astarion huffs, pointedly looking away as you've plainly caught him off guard. But he can feel you staring, and he quickly clears his throat and schools his expression with impressive ease. “A mistake that you will find I am here to rectify.”

The silence gives you time to think – time to poke more holes in his story. Before you have the opportunity, Astarion steps swiftly forward again, and you shiver as the ends of his long, slender fingers slide beneath your chin and tip your face towards his. That seductive look is back, no traces of his earlier irritation visible beneath the heated gaze he fixes you with.

“So, darling, what do you say?”

Your heart is in your throat, hammering wildly at just the barest touch of his skin. Despite his shameless flirting, Astarion rarely touches you, and each time he does sends a jolt of excitement through you. This time is no different, amplified tenfold by the circumstances of your present situation. You wonder how he does it, disarming you with nothing more than a simple touch.

Astarion continues to watch you, head tipped to the side as though he's a wolf sizing up a hare, deciding which part of you he'd like to sink his teeth into first.

Gods, yes. Of course. I've only been thinking about this for an embarrassingly long time.

“Okay,” you say instead. You try to match his stare, but his eyes leave you feeling as bare as the day you were born, and you can't help but cast your gaze elsewhere; worse still, you're certain that he can read every one of your most embarrassing thoughts, even without the aid of the tadpoles wriggling around in either of your brains.

“I knew you'd understand,” Astarion says, lowering his head to press his lips against yours in a kiss that sets your entire body alight with desire. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be lucky enough to kiss him, yet here he is, slotting his mouth against yours and running his tongue across the seam of your lips as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. And for you, it's anything but that. For a moment you forget to breathe as time stands still, and only once his other hand lays on your hip to pull you closer do you realize that you haven't died and that this is actually happening.

The feeling of his lips on yours is so much more intimate compared to the way they felt on your throat when you've let him feed on you. They're soft and pliant – far moreso than you would have guessed – especially when the rest of him is all hard muscle and sharp edges. When he's this close, his scent ensnares you completely, and you can detect the subtle notes of brandy beneath the bergamot and rosemary.

You sag against his chest and let him do as he pleases, opening your mouth to let his tongue sweep inside and taste you. He groans softly when you bite down playfully on his tongue, eyes gleaming when he pulls away and smirks in approval.

“Careful, darling,” he growls, close enough to your ear that you can feel the vibration of his voice. “I bite too, and I can guarantee I won't be nearly as gentle.”

It's no secret that Astarion knows how much you delight in letting him feed on you. He knew even before you clumsily admitted it to him the morning after the first time it happened, and by the third time you had invited him into your tent after dark there was an unspoken understanding that it was immensely pleasurable for both of you.

There's nothing quite like it, is there? The sharp sting of his fangs that melts away into the purest form of bliss as he nibbles your skin and sweeps his tongue greedily over the puncture marks between long, slow pulls of your blood. Or the way he murmurs little noises of approval against your throat – “that’s it, darling; so good for me…”

Even now, Astarion fully expects the effect his threat has on you: the way you tremble in his arms and how you press your mouth into a thin line to stifle a moan. He kisses you more insistently this time, one hand tangled in your hair as the hand on your hip guides you back until you're flush against a tree and pinned beneath him.

“Is that what you want, my sweet? Shall I drink your blood while I fuck you?” Astarion peppers a series of deceptively light kisses across your jaw, teasing you with the razor sharp points of his fangs as he seeks out your pulse point. You know he can feel it just beneath your skin, the blood surging through your veins with each erratic beat of your heart telling him what you lack the words to say. You envision his proposal in vivid detail and moan softly in response.

“Who knew you harbored such dirty little thoughts.”

Astarion's tongue traces an idle path over the bite marks on your neck and your breath catches in your throat as your hands scrabble for purchase on the rough bark behind you.

“I have so many thoughts about you, Astarion,” you confess. “That's the problem.”

You feel Astarion exhale across your skin, breath fanning out to tease the nape of your neck. His mouth splits into a wide, wolfish smile.

“Is that so? Why don't you tell me all about them, hmm?”

But where would you even begin? Nevermind that your mind is far too addled to form more than a single, barley-coherent thought.

“I could tell you, but I’d rather show you.”

“Oh?” This seems to pique his interest, though he never stops mouthing at your neck. He must be hungry, and you make a mental note to address that concern as soon as possible.

“What did you have in mind, darling?”

In response, you fumble for his waist, earning a noise of surprise as you spin him around and sink to your knees in the grass. This, he clearly does not expect, if the way he raises his eyebrows is any indication.

You glance confidently up at him, at last feeling like you have the upper hand. You don't necessarily mind him being in control, but neither will you deny yourself the fun of surprising him.

“Isn't it obvious?” You allow yourself a small smirk of your own.

Your hands trace the edge of his waistband, making your intentions clear. For once he is silent, as if uncertain how to proceed. But that's fine – you're more than happy to take the lead for now.

“Most of the men I've been with expected me to do this,” you explain, waiting for his consent before you commit to undressing him further. “It's been a while, but I promise I know what I'm doing.” You huff a laugh and stick out your tongue. “Well. Mostly.”

You can only hope that your eagerness makes up for your lack of recent experience. And that's half the battle anyway, isn't it? Astarion looks at you for what feels like an eternity, and for a moment you see a flicker of hesitation in his expression before his eyes narrow and anchor on your face.

“You don't have to,” he finally says, his hand lowering to brush an errant lock of your hair out of your eyes. He sounds almost sad, as though the only reason you had made the suggestion in the first place was out of obligation.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, smiling cheerfully up at him. “But I want to do this for you. And besides, wasn't it your idea for us to ‘indulge’ ?” you ask, poorly mimicking the teasing lilt of his voice. “That means you too.”

Astarion's expression softens as he smiles almost reluctantly back at you. A weight seems to lift from his shoulders and he visibly relaxes.

“All right, then. If you insist, darling.”

“Good, because I do.”

You shift slightly between his legs, steeling yourself for the task at hand. Your nerves flare yet again, the idea of disappointing him suddenly far more relevant than it had been before. Astarion's skin is cool and smooth beneath your fingers as you slip them beneath his waistband, tugging his pants down over the ample curve of his backside and down the length of his toned thighs. The only remaining barrier between you and the rest of him is his underwear, which is currently doing very little to obscure the very noticeable bulge beneath the fabric. With one last glance upwards, you suck in a breath and give them a swift tug, busying yourself with pulling his clothes down to his ankles so he can kick them aside.

The next time you lift your head, there's nothing left to the imagination. Astarion's cock greets you at eye level, half-hard and already glistening with a slick bead of precome. It's as pretty as the rest of him, the tip flushed a soft shade of petal pink that has you dying to know how much more enticing it would look after he's fed on you. You file that thought away for next time – provided there even is a next time. Best to not let yourself get distracted.

That, it turns out, is easier said than done. You reach out almost shyly and wrap your hand around his cock, impressed by the feel of him. He's smooth and heavy in your palm, and you give him a few experimental jerks, transfixed by the way you can feel his cock begin to swell in your hand.

Astarion makes a quiet noise and your eyes follow the path of his body along his stomach and the hard lines of his chest, surprised to find his own half-lidded and a single fang digging into his bottom lip. You maintain eye contact as you continue pumping him, coaxing more soft sounds of pleasure from his throat.

“Ahh…” Your name slips from his lips, almost as an afterthought, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs together to give yourself some relief from the way his voice has your body begging for his touch. You've never heard him quite like this before, and the effect it has on you is nothing if not potent. His nostrils flare and you know instantly he is aware of your arousal.

Astarion leans back against the tree, one hand anchored in your hair as the other one digs into the bark, desperately trying to help him maintain his balance. The length of him is slick with his arousal, and you want nothing more than to taste him. Emboldened, you guide your free hand between his legs to cup his balls, lifting his cock so you can press the flat of your tongue against the underside at the base. The sensation makes his cock jump and his hips buck forward, eager for the feel of your mouth upon him. He tastes of clean linen and something distinctly Astarion, salty-sweet and decadent.

“Does it feel good?” you mumble against him, tracing your tongue along the vein that snakes around the length of his cock as you work your way towards the sensitive tip. When you wrap your lips around him and swirl your tongue over his slit, Astarion lets out a whine and tugs sharply on your hair, clearly fighting the urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

“Y-es, love,” he says hoarsely, “that's – ohh… ”

You repeat the action, as eager to hear him again as he is to let you pleasure him.

“Don't stop.”

As if you had anything else in mind.

You tighten your lips around him and hollow your cheeks as you take his cock deeper into your mouth, hand twisting around the base of him in little corkscrew motions. Eyes locked on his face, you moan against his hard length, bobbing your head in time with the hand that strokes his shaft. You feel more than pride when Astarion's mouth falls open and he is unable to do anything but voice his pleasure, each moan and mewl he makes making your clit throb with need.

Precome and saliva coat your chin as you take him deeper still, bracing your hand on his thigh to help you guide his cock to the back of your throat. The sensation is almost too much for you to handle, and you take a moment to breathe through your nose and remember to pace yourself. With his pupils blown, Astarion's eyes look more black than red, slamming shut as you swallow him to the base, press your nose against his stomach, and moan. He struggles to watch you work his cock with your lips and tongue, hips jerking every now and then and shoving his cock even further down your throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice tight and raspy. “If you keep this up, darling, I'm going to –” Another groan as your tongue slides across his shaft in a way that makes his thighs tremble. His body is as taut as a bowstring, his release imminent.

Speaking now would only be an inconvenience. You take advantage of the tadpoles to reach into his mind, allowing him to feel the building pressure between your thighs as his cock hits the back of your throat again and your cunt clenches in response.

“It's okay,” you assure him. “I want it. I want you to come. It feels good for me too.”

Astarion needs no further encouragement. With both hands buried in your hair, his hips stutter and he bucks into your mouth, spilling himself down your throat with a groan that tapers into a satisfied whimper. He releases you and falls back against the tree, chest heaving. His cock twitches in the open air, dripping and still half-hard.

“See?” you pant, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“Cheeky little pup.” He speaks with that same sensual lilt in his voice that you're so familiar with, but this time it seems almost lighter, less restrained.

Astarion advances on only slightly unsteady feet, pushing you back onto your elbows as he takes his turn settling between your legs. Your eyes are wide as he hovers over your face, lips only inches from yours.

Kiss me. Kiss me, gods dammit.

A low chuckle rumbles in his throat, and you realize that you hadn't bothered to sever your tadpole connection before beaming your thoughts directly into his mind.

“Needy little thing, aren't you? Although I suppose it can't be helped.” Astarion kisses you again, nipping insistently at your bottom lip to encourage you to open your mouth. All the while, his hands slip beneath your sleep shirt, tracing a searing path across your body. But instead of grasping your breasts as you expect him to, he breaks the kiss to pull the garment over your head, one hand on your sternum as he presses you into the grass. The cool air isn't the only thing that makes you tremble.

Astarion mimics your actions from before, fingers dipping beneath your pants as a playful grin slides across his elegant features. “Has anyone ever done this for you, sweet girl?”

He licks his lips and you part your legs further. “N-no,” you admit with some reluctance.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “No? You poor thing. Allow me to fix that mistake as well.”

He doesn't need to ask you to lift your hips for him. Your body moves as if on instinct, letting him undress you with one swift motion. You lay shyly beneath him in the grass, gazing up at him with round, curious eyes as he looks at you in quiet contemplation.

“Do you want to know the reason I asked you to come all the way out here?” he asks, hands on your knees as his eyes rake down your body. Your skin burns beneath his lustful gaze, wetness pooling between your slick folds as he bares your center to him.

“Why?”

“Because this way,” Astarion purrs, sinking between your legs, “I don't have to hold back.” The last thing you see before your vision goes white are the rich, ruby reds of his eyes, narrowed to slits as he descends upon you. The first flick of his tongue against your clit is enough to make you cry out into the night, and when Astarion does it again and wraps his lips around the sensitive pearl and gently sucks you truly think that this might be the death of you.

His tongue glides between your folds to gather your arousal; the taste of it makes him groan, and you dig your fingers into the grass, trying not to thrash beneath him. Pleasure erupts like wildfire over every nerve ending as he works you with his tongue, wasting no time discovering the parts of you that make you whimper for him the most.

“Is it too much?”

It takes you a moment to realize he's asked the question, and you find the strength to peer down at him through hazy, unfocused eyes as he glances up at you.

“Yes… no… I don't…” You stop before you embarrass yourself any further and take another breath. “Maybe a little,” you admit, more coherently. “But it feels good. I want you to keep going.”

“My apologies.” He runs his tongue over his fangs and your poor heart skips a beat. “I'm finding it very difficult to resist devouring you whole. You, darling, are quite the delectable little treat.”

Another unexpected giggle bursts forth from your lips and you fall back against the soft ground as Astarion sits up and looks at you in confusion.

“You don't have to do that, you know,” you manage between laughs, finally propping yourself up on an elbow and tossing him an affectionate look.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Try to flatter me with those terrible pickup lines. I already like you; I wouldn't be out here if I didn't.”

Astarion's brows furrow and he seems to stare at you as if you are some unsolvable riddle, the expression on his face something you have no name for. It's as forlorn as it is relieved, amused as it is exasperated.

He's still studying you when you sit up, and maybe it's just your imagination that tells you he leans into your touch when you cup his face and pull him in for a quick kiss, but that's all right with you. Astarion's eyes are curious and bright, an ocean of precious rubies shining beneath the light of the moon. The sight of it is enough to make your heart ache.

“All right,” he agrees, shrugging. “No more terrible pickup lines.

“Good,” you say. “I like you better that way. Just… just you.”

The grass is already wet with dew when you lay back again, letting your hands fall from Astarion's face. He almost seems to mourn the loss, but after a moment he slides gracefully down the length of your body and gently parts your legs once more.

This time he is far more mindful about what he's doing, tongue gently lapping at your center before dragging slowly across your opening. You moan and writhe beneath him as before, rolling your hips to press your clit against his nose. You don't expect how cold his fingers feel against your opening as he presses one gently inside you, waiting for you to encourage him for more before he coaxes you open.

“Astarion…”

He returns your whine with a groan, teasing your clit with his tongue as he guides a second finger inside you. Your arousal coats his fingers as they dip and curl inside your cunt, stoking the roaring fire inside your body. You're helpless to do anything but be swept up in the current, safe in the knowledge that Astarion will guide you exactly where you need to be.

Your orgasm doesn't slowly build as much as it roars to life, and you have only a moment to tell him before you're coming hard on his fingers and his tongue, trembling like a leaf in the wind as unrivaled ecstasy suffuses through you. Your throat constricts around the syllables of his name, the pace of his fingers and tongue gradually slowing as your euphoria finally fades.

The next time you open your eyes, Astarion is hovering over you, his face still coated in the evidence of your arousal. You pull him in for another kiss to taste yourself on his tongue, sighing contentedly into his mouth. His lips are no less insistent than before, but they lack the same urgency. But you certainly don't mind, letting him kiss you until you're left breathless and panting.

“Are you hungry, Astarion?” you ask, pressing his face against your neck. “You can feed on me, if you'd like.”

Astarion's fangs are an immediate presence against your skin before you even finish making your offer, his hands pinning your arms above your head just before he punctures your flesh. What little blood escapes his lips is quickly gathered on his tongue, and each long, steady pull of your blood is taken in time with the beating of your heart. His fangs dig deep, but you can feel his restraint behind the hands that pin your arms and his legs as they bracket your waist.

As he drinks, you gradually become aware of his cock against your thigh, heavy and full and so enticingly warm as your blood courses through his body. Astarion's hips shift as though he's seeking relief, and you oblige him by untangling one of your arms from his grasp and reaching for his cock, wrapping your fingers around his hardening length. He grunts in appreciation and snaps his hips forward at an increasingly desperate pace.

“Darling…”

Astarion's voice is slurred against your neck, made clumsy by his own arousal and the heady taste of your blood.

“I think…” A pause, another few thrusts, another low groan. “I think I'd like to be inside you now.”

You instinctively squeeze his cock, nodding your ascent.

“I think I'd like that too.”

Crimson coats his lips when Astarion tears himself from your neck, a thin trail of your blood running down the side of his mouth. His tongue flicks out to gather it and he sighs heavily with satisfaction as he sits back on his calves. You feel the blunt head of his cock glide through your slick folds as he coats himself in your arousal, eyes trained reverently on your face. He notes each subtle change in your expression as he enters you, moving with more patience than either of you have to spare.

Your cunt pulses around his cock as Astarion thrusts himself deeper, the thin line between pleasure and pain blurring with every inch he buries inside you. When at last he bottoms out, you watch each other for a moment, listening to the sound of one another's panting breaths.

Astarion's hands move to your legs, tucking beneath your knees as he lifts them up and presses them against your chest.

“I'm going to move now, darling. Is that all right?”

You nod, breathing a shaky “yes” as you will yourself to relax. The first thrust has you throwing back your head with a strangled sob, and Astarion must find it encouraging because he wastes no time rocking into you again shortly after, and then again with even more force. He sets a steady pace, slamming his hips into the backs of your thighs with each punishing thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in the grass as you turn your head to the side, letting the sensation of him on top of you and inside you flood your senses.

Astarion digs his nails into your skin and growls your name. It sounds almost possessive, sharpened to a razor thin point as it cuts through the fog inside your mind. With monumental effort you open your eyes and search for his face somewhere on your periphery, mouth falling slack as a series of undignified whimpers and moans tumble from your lips.

“Eyes on me,” he commands in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal. Your gaze finally catches sight of him and Astarion leans close, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. “That's it. Let me see you, sweet girl…”

“Astarion…”

Your mind is empty of all other thoughts but those of him, as it should be. How could it be otherwise, when you are full of him in every sense of the word? The feel of him inside you, the touch of his skin on yours. The scent of him that addles your senses and the sound of his voice that mirrors your own pleasure? Beyond it – beyond him – nothing else matters.

“Again,” he says through gritted teeth, and you follow the path of his gaze towards the arch of your neck and the blood you feel trickling down over your shoulder. You slip your legs around his waist, inviting him closer.

“Astarion.”

His mouth is on you again, eager for another taste of you. You acquiesce gladly, craning your neck to allow him better access.

“Again.”

This time when you cry his name, his fangs pierce your neck again, and his thrusts grow even more frantic as he drives his cock inside your quivering cunt. You tighten your legs and cling to him as closely as you can, each snap of his hips intense enough to lift you off the ground. Your tadpoles link, and Astarion's thoughts pour into your mind as liberally as you share yours with him; for a few, blissful moments the sensations you feel are neither entirely your own nor entirely his.

The pressure inside you builds to a roaring crescendo, crashing over you like waves breaking on the shore as you fall to pieces beneath him with a shout that leaves your throat raw. Astarion holds you down as he pistons into you, the tight, inviting warmth of your body pulling him over the edge when he finds his own release.

The absence of his weight as he extracts himself from the tangle of your limbs is a loss you mourn with a whine of protest, and you roll over onto your stomach with an ache in your thighs you know you'll be feeling in the morning. After a moment, you hear the rustling of clothes behind you and find Astarion half dressed already, tugging his pants on with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“I guess it was a bit silly of me to think this could last forever,” you say with a sigh, offering him a sad smile. Astarion approaches you and extends his hand to help you to your feet, and you try not to feel too embarrassed as you wobble like a newborn fawn.

“Not if you and that feeble mortal constitution of yours don't want to catch cold,” he says flatly.

“Hey!” You scowl at him in mock offense. “Fair enough, I guess. Rude, but fair.”

Astarion waits for you to pull your clothes back on before turning back the way you came, and you follow him in silence as you make your way to camp. The moonlight filtering through the trees sometimes catches on his form and you note what appears to be a series of intricate marks carved into his back, a sight that leaves you both curious and filled with a sense of dread.

“Astarion?” you ask, “What's that on your back?”

A bitter laugh leaves him and he turns to offer you an equally humorless smile, his eyes distant in a way that makes your heart twist in your chest.

“A story for another time, darling,” he says, and there's a finality to his words that broker no more room for discussion. You nod in understanding, stepping over the threshold of the woods that circle the clearing where you and the others set up camp only a few hours prior.

Returning alone to your own tent is not something you're looking forward to, but as you turn to look at Astarion he's already pulled his tent flap aside, sparing you one final glance as if he's anticipated the question you no longer have the courage to ask. You feel your lips tug into a small smile, one that Astarion only mirrors after a moment of hesitation.

“Good night, Astarion. Um… thanks. For tonight. I enjoyed spending time with you.”

“It was my pleasure, darling. Sleep well.”

As you watch him slip inside his tent, you have the sudden feeling that whatever happened between the two of you tonight has only further complicated your already curious relationship with Astarion. But like so many other things about the man, it is only one more of the many mysteries surrounding him that you hope one day to unravel. You curl up in your bedroll, unable to keep your mind on anything else as you drift off, eager for whatever awaits you tomorrow.

#astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x you #reader insert #x reader #astarion #astarion smut #spawn astarion #astarion fic #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #my writing

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juniperdugong · 8 months ago

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Relationship Quirks 95s ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Scoups Calls you his "wife" while you guys are still dating

NOT AROUND YOU... at first but I doubt that the guys wouldn't secretly take video of him whining during practice talking about, "I miss my wife..." all pouty and everything (he saw you this morning), and NOT send it to you.

He's awkward when you bring it up because he doesn't know if you feel that way about the future of your relationship but once he knows you do feel the same way WHEW you do not hear the end of it.

Suddenly, all the reservations he makes are preceded by "Well, me and my wife...", anytime you're brought up in a conversation dude glitches out and HAS to mention you as his wife at least once (especially if it's to someone he thinks might be interested in you), and the yearning only gets worse! He'll leave for tour and after he texts his customary airplane goodbye message to you your phone will be blowing up with texts from the boys complaining about having to hear their leader practically sobbing about how much he misses his wife.

Jeonghan Steals your stuff

Has big "What's yours is mine" mentality, but don't worry! What's his is yours too! He swears it! Despite the drastic difference in how much he's using, borrowing, or straight up taking your stuff...

Let's be clear though, he never takes things he thinks you'll miss and if he finishes something of yours he always makes sure to replace it pronto. If you do get upset he makes a mental note to not mess with that particular item ever again.

Have you noticed a suspicious amount of your clothing (mainly hoodies, hats, and bags) go missing and suddenly see your boyfriend wearing them during a live? Yes. Has there been multiple arguments about this behavior? For sure! Does it absolutely warm your heart when you're at a concert and see a staff member run on stage to hand Hannie his current comfort item (a childhood toy of yours that you didn't even know was missing from your room)? Absolutely, it does. (Apologizes profusely once you find out...doesn't mean a single word of it and you know it because he's giggling the whole time)

Joshua Buys 2 of everything

Since the dawn of your relationship, Shua has gotten 2 of every item he buys. His initial reason was to get to know one another better by trying out things the other liked. This then spiraled to him doubling every single grocery item, clothes he buys, and pretty much anything he orders. Could be an insanely valuable item worth thousands that he's getting paid to promote but if there isn't a matching one for you then it's off the table. And no, he doesn't necessarily want to be "matching" all the time but he likes knowing that you guys could match whenever you wanted to.

He also gets extremely offended if you question why there's so much of everything, seriously he doesn't even want to hear it, like "Because it's ours! And we share! So we need double! Do you hate me or something!?"

"Babe, why do we have so much shampoo..." "I'm promoting it." "There's 2 of every type in here." "Yep." "We don't ne-" "We do need it." "It's too much." "I don't understand what you're saying to me right now."

A/N: The brainrot I have for these men is so real rnnnnn. I just had to separate these by years bc it was getting too long :( I'll have 96s up by today too, so stay tuned for that 96 line OUT NOW!! (Have to do it for my babe Nonu) Reblogs and Comments are much-appreciated lovelies!!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish

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uvobreakmylegs · 7 months ago

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As Fate Would Have it

red thread of fate soulmate! AU with Razor x reader

this fic now has a Part 2 written by @hypnoswrites! please read Man-Made Destiny once you've read this part!

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of death

Word Count: 12.2k words

He hadn't said anything to you.

After returning to your hotel room only to immediately be jumped by the man who had clearly been laying in wait for you, he had yet to utter a single word, instead staying quiet through the process of grabbing and restraining you. Even when you had tried to kick and scream when you realized that you were being attacked, he didn't explain anything or mutter out any curses when you were successful in hitting him a few times. Not even to mock you when it was clear that you were lacking the strength needed to do any sort of damage to him.

It was only for a short period of time that your limbs were free, and now you were laying on the hotel bed, your wrists bound behind your back, your ankles tied together and a washcloth from the bathroom having been forced into your mouth in order to keep you quiet.

Earlier you were crying and screaming into the material of the makeshift gag, the terror of the situation overtaking you. But when nothing further happened, you managed to calm down enough to keep quiet, and now you were waiting for what he intended to do from here. With how tightly he had bound you, there was no scenario where you got out of your constraints on your own. Which meant there were only two possibilities: a third party would find and untie you, or he would untie you himself.

The first possibility seemed incredibly unlikely.

That second possibility seemed like it would only happen if he viewed you in a positive light.

So you stayed quiet, hoping that your silence would be interpreted as submission.

Currently the man was across from where you lay on the bed, sitting forward in the chair that had been placed in front of the window. In the initial attack, all you had truly registered was how much taller and stronger he was in the way he had picked you up and threw you onto the bed without any effort. Now that things had calmed down and you were trying to be smart about the moves you made, you were able to take in the details you hadn't noticed before. Like his short, spiky purple hair and his prominent cheekbones.

The way the light from the nearby lamp hit him somehow made him feel even more intimidating than he already was, the shadows almost creating an ominous aura about him. As if you weren't scared enough of him already.

At least he wasn't touching you anymore. After he'd gagged you, his hands stayed on you while you continued to struggle. And even after your struggles had died down completely, they stayed there, occasionally to gliding up and down your body while he stared at you.

What exactly those dark eyes were seeing when he stared at you in that way that felt so intense, you couldn't begin to imagine.

It was a relatively recent development that he'd had enough of it and moved away from the bed, shifting the blinds of the window slightly to peek out before sitting down across from you, watching you with a pensive look on his face.

Being that you were now in a calmer state, you wished you could ask him why he was doing this. What he wanted and what he planned to do with you.

…. It wasn't completely true that you wanted to know the answer to the last one; you were too scared that he would tell you that he planned on ending your life. Or maybe he was planning on selling you. Both of those things happening was also a possibility.

How much time had passed since you had first entered your room was unclear – you kept your gaze on him, waiting to see if and when he would act.

When that time finally came and he did speak, it surprised you.

“This must be terrible for you.”

You blinked when you heard his voice for the first time, but continued to keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I kept thinking of what I should say,” he told you, “what I could say to make this easier on you, so you could understand what's going on. And while I don't think that I'm terrible when it comes to words, I've never found myself more stumped than I am right now.”

He sighed as he added “if only you could see it, or if I didn't have to get back so quick, it wouldn't be this way. I wouldn't have needed to do this to you.”

'Do this'?

Tears began to fill your eyes again, and despite how you had told yourself to keep quiet, you tried to speak. Desperation drove you to beg for your life, something that could've been a horrible decision if he was easily angered, but his eyebrows raised slightly while he hummed.

“You want to say something?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly.

He considered you a moment before he got to his feet, returning to sit on the edge of the bed and placing one hand firmly on your shoulder.

“I'll take this out,” he began, motioning to the washcloth before adding “but make sure you don't scream. It'll only end badly for you.”

You nodded again, this time in a much more steady manner as you were desperate to show that you were calm and wanted to cooperate.

The man was satisfied with that, and he pulled the washcloth out of your mouth, freeing your tongue from the taste and texture of the heavy fabric that had grown wet from your saliva. You couldn't help but cough for a moment, relieved to get that out of your mouth. All the while he kept that hand on your shoulder while also being prepared to gag you again if you got too loud.

But you followed his instruction, and he seemed to relax some when moments passed and you didn't start screaming.

Then you spoke to him.

“Sir,” you began, “please don't kill me.”

At that, he smiled.

“Ah, that was what you were worried about, was it?”

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly as he said “don't worry. You aren't going to die.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

He pulled you up into a sitting position and moved your legs so they were placed over his lap. With how your wrists and ankles were still bound, it felt awkward, but you didn't dare make any move to try and free yourself. Not right now.

“It would be terrible for me if you died,” he said, “so believe me when I say that's the last thing I could ever want.”

You didn't understand how exactly that could be bad for him, but you nodded as if you did.

“Um, so,” you began, “can I ask what exactly it is that you do want?”

“For you to come with me.”

“Come with you? Wh-where?”

“An island.”

“… An island?”

He saw the way your eyebrows furrowed and patted you on the cheek as he said “I feel all of this is something that will make more sense if you see it rather than have me explain it to you. So while it might be confusing for now, I promise it will become clear in time.”

“For now,” he continued, “I need your full cooperation.”

“….. So you can take me to an island?”

“Yes.”

You wanted to ask what happened after that, but he spoke again before you were able to.

“You can't use nen, so we'll need to go the long way to get there,” he said, “we'll be leaving tomorrow.”

What the fuck is nen?

That thought flashed through your head before you focused on the second part of his sentence: leaving tomorrow?

“I-I'm supposed to head back home tomorrow,” you told him, “people will notice when I don't come back.”

“Then we'll have to get going early.”

He smiled as he said that, speaking as though this was a last-minute trip that you were a willing participant in and brushing off what you said completely. Like the fact that there were people who would notice once you were gone wasn't a concern to him. He didn't care that he was taking you away from them. He didn't care that you didn't want to go with him.

And there was nothing you could do about that. After all, the first thing this man had done was prove to you that you couldn't fight him off.

As much as you wanted to scream and yell at him to let you go or cry out for help in the hopes your neighbors would hear you and call for help on your behalf, at best all that would do was get that washcloth stuffed inside your mouth again, and that was at best. If you wanted any chance of getting away from this man, you needed to get him to trust you enough so his guard relaxed.

It was the only way.

“With that said, we should get some sleep,” he told you, patting you on the cheek again while he added “we have a long drive ahead of us, and once we start, I want to make as few stops as possible.”

He gently pushed you back onto the mattress before moving your legs off of his lap and standing back up.

You were compelled to speak again when he began to walk away.

“Can I ask one last question?”

He paused, turning to look at you as he said “of course.”

“Who….. Who are you?”

He smiled at you and answered with his name.

“Razor.”

There was little sleep to be had that night. While the bed in the hotel room was incredibly soft and comfortable, it was hard to sleep when you had a kidnapper nearly twice your size laying next to you. The feeling was made worse during the times of the night when he put a hand on you again, running up and down your side with experimental touches. He knew you were awake during those times as well, as more often than not you weren't able to keep in the scared noises that came from your mouth whenever his hand brushed near your neck or went lower than your stomach, still fearful of his intentions. He didn't reprimand you, likely because you were doing your best to be quiet. But he didn't stop either, not seeming to care at all how much this was distressing you. To top it off, your arms remained bound, forcing you to try and rest in an uncomfortable position that guaranteed you would lose sleep no matter how soft the mattress was.

Dawn had barely cracked when Razor got up, shaking you awake when it felt like you had just barely gotten to sleep. Your tiredness was definitely showing even with how hard you tried to be alert, because he chuckled at you.

“Don't worry,” he told you, “you can sleep in the car if you need to.”

However, the moment you were placed in the passenger's seat, you were wide awake again. And as Razor drove you away from your hotel and down the highway in the opposite direction of the airport, despair settled in the pit of your stomach. You were being kidnapped, and you were doing nothing to stop it because there simply wasn't anything you could do.

So you sat there silently with your hands bound again as he took you, and the only saving grace of the situation was the fact that he'd tied them in front so you were a bit more comfortable this time.

Razor stayed silent as well while he kept his focus on the road.

An entire day passed with barely anything being said. You didn't say anything unless he spoke up first, and when you did speak, it was just to let out a “yes” or an “okay” to whatever he told you to do. Like when he tossed you a protein bar and told you to eat, or when he told you to keep your hands on your lap so no one passing by might catch sight of your bound wrists.

Cooperate fully. Make him think you were too scared to go against him. Wait for him to let his guard down.

The worst moment was when he stopped the car to fill up the gas tank, and he allowed your wrists to be free once more as he let you out to use the nearby restroom. Before letting you go, he whispered a warning as he told you not to get any stupid ideas. You didn't need any clarification: there was only one person at the station that you could see, standing away from the pumps so they could smoke their cigarette in peace. With only them seeming to be present, trying to get help here was a stupid idea, and one you would only do if you had no care for the innocent bystander who would undoubtedly suffer because of it.

It was when you were leaving the bathroom and heading back to the car that you felt heavy. Razor's eyes were fixed on you when you stepped out, and the sight had you frozen for a moment.

You didn't want to go to him. Every instinct in you was telling you to run, run as fast as you can and don't look back until you find somewhere safe.

But he was expecting that.

Despite the laid back body language he displayed, a gut feeling told you that he'd be on you the instant you tried getting away from him. That same gut feeling told you that it was better not to anger him. Even if he said that he didn't want you dead, how the hell could you trust a man who had kidnapped you?

You walked back to the car, albeit slowly. If your pace was enough to annoy him, he chose not to comment on it, though the instant you were both back in the car he restrained your wrists again.

Razor drove well into the night, not stopping to rest even when you felt it was too hard to keep your eyes open. You fell asleep like that, and when you woke up early the next morning with an ache in your neck, he was still driving, and you wondered if he had slept at all that night.

After another breakfast of an energy bar and bottled water, you got up the courage to ask him a question.

“How far will we be driving?” you asked.

“Until we reach the coast.”

“Ah.”

That would take a while, then. You weren't that close to any oceans. So it would be a long time spent being around him in the small space of the car.

At least he couldn't do anything to you while he was focused on the road, right?

Turning your attention to the window, you saw that the highway you were on was now slowly filling up with traffic. It was still early morning, thus the morning traffic was merging on the road. Much to Razor's displeasure, as you heard him make an annoyed grunt when he was forced to slow down the speed of the car.

It was disheartening to know that the trip would last that much longer.

You expected that today would be a repeat of the previous: he would say very little aside from ordering you now and then, and you would keep quiet and do as he said. The less you needed to speak with this man, the better.

But then he spoke up.

“You seem tired; are you sure you don't want to sleep more?” he asked.

It took you a few moments to reply, and during that time he glanced over to you. That was what spurred you to respond.

“I don't think I can,” you answered.

“If the front seat is too uncomfortable for you, I can pull over and you can move to the back.”

“I'm okay.”

“… I see.”

You kept your eyes averted from him, not sure what all of this was about but not wanting to poke the bear to find out. Why was he pretending to look out for your well-being? God, all you wanted was to be away from him.

But now with the traffic forcing him to drive far beneath the speed limit and the already long road you had ahead of you, getting away from him wouldn't come any time soon. And now it seemed that your previous question had encouraged him to talk to you, as Razor broke the silence once again.

“You're free to talk, if you'd like.”

“…. I'm okay.”

You didn't say anything after that, and once a few moments had passed, you sensed his gaze on you again when he looked over to you.

“You're getting bored of doing nothing but sitting, aren't you? Why don't you tell me about yourself?” he asked.

The fuck did that mean?

You shook your head, and you felt his confusion grow as he continued to watch you.

“You seemed more eager to speak the other night,” he commented.

Probably because I was panicked from getting jumped in my hotel room, you thought to yourself. Now you didn't want to say anything, or even know anything about what would happen to you. The previous day you had spent in silent dread only built up your paranoia and your fear and you didn't want to hear some story from him that was undoubtedly untrue all to keep you calm for the journey.

You didn't need to know the details of what would happen, the scenarios in your mind that slowly began running wild being all that you needed to guess as to what your fate would be at the end of all this. You were definitely going to die; the fact that he didn't care about you seeing his face seemed like proof of that.

So why give him the satisfaction of feeding you false hope that things wouldn't be as bad as you thought they would be?

Although…..

You had to admit that the island story felt like a weird lie to feed you. Surely he could've come up with something better, some reason that wasn't quite so mysterious. Then again, you couldn't think of any good lie to feed to someone who was being kidnapped.

But again, why in the world would he say that?

The traffic around you was starting to get better when you voiced that thought.

“Why do I need to go to the island?” you asked.

“Because I need you,” he answered.

“For what?”

He didn't answer, and you glanced back over to find that Razor's smile had fallen as he kept his gaze on the road. It didn't seem like he intended on answering you. If that was the case, then you should leave it be. No sense in angering him unnecessarily. He was the one in control, not you.

But he eventually surprised you when he chose to speak again.

“Unfortunately,” he began, “that's one thing I can only explain once we get there.”

“Oh.”

That again.

“Is there a reason why you can't explain now?” you asked.

“Because it may be a bit too difficult to believe simply hearing it.”

“So leaving me without answers for however long you lug me around is the better option?”

Your regretted saying that as soon as the words left your lips. It had been too forceful, too angry and not in line at all with the role of captive you were meant to play. Him not doing much to you had you growing too comfortable, too bold, and Razor obviously noticed it too as he looked over to you with one of his eyebrows raised.

One look from him was all it took for every fear to return, and you went back to cowering in your seat, mumbling a soft “sorry.”

He hummed but said nothing further.

An uncomfortable silence was now in the air, interrupted only by the way Razor tapped his finger against the steering wheel.

You noticed something then: a piece of teal colored string that was wrapped around his pinky. One with some sort of design printed all over it, though it was too small and too far away from you to make out any details.

Your eyebrows furrowed. With the way he'd been touching you that first night, shouldn't you have noticed that before? Then again, how could anyone be paying attention to such fine details after what you'd been going through in that moment?

Ultimately, you took your attention off of that; whatever that was, it couldn't have mattered.

“Have you ever seen my face before today?” he asked.

It was late in the afternoon when he asked that, the third day since he had kidnapped you playing out without much talk aside from the orders he would give you whenever he stopped to refill the car's tank. Despite the talk you had the previous day, he didn't push further to make you speak to him. Maybe the last conversation felt just as strange for him as it had for you.

Evidently he was moving past that now as this new question hung in the air.

Your eyebrows furrowed, but instead of asking him why he was asking, you looked at him and tried to recall if there was any spot in your memory where you had seen his face before all of this. There was a reason he had asked, right? He wouldn't just ask such a thing randomly, right?

Maybe he'd been stalking you for a long time.

As hard as you tried, however, you came up blank in terms of any previous memories that involved your kidnapper, and after a few moments you slowly shook your head “no” in response.

For some reason, Razor actually seemed relieved at that, smiling as he said “that's good.”

“…. Why is that good?” you asked against your better judgment.

With that smile still on his face, Razor shook his head as he replied “I'd rather not go into it. I don't want your opinion of me to go any lower.”

…. What?

“Why would my opinion of you matter?” you asked.

Now Razor seemed confused, glancing over to you while asking “why wouldn't it matter?”

Why wouldn't it matter?

Was he fucking serious?

“Because I've been kidnapped?” you responded, “because I have no say in any of this? Because you were waiting in my hotel room for me, and then you tied me up on the bed? Because it's pretty amazing that I haven't died yet, and there's still a good chance that everything you've been saying to me is a lie so you can keep me calm before you gut me like a pig and dump me in a ditch somewhere.”

He wasn't smiling anymore, his expression now turned serious. You should've been worried about how it didn't seem like he was paying attention to the road.

You should also stop talking. The way you were going right now, you were liable to say something bad that would upset him.

But did it matter if you upset him if you really believed he was going to kill you?

“After you did all of that, why the fuck does my opinion of you matter?” you asked, “why do you care about how your kidnapping victim feels? If you weren't such an awful person, you wouldn't have kidnapped me in the first place. How the fuck can you sit there and be worried about if I like you or not?”

Razor pulled the car over to the side of the road.

Fuck

You averted your eyes as you started to shake.

He'll do it here. Shoot or strangle you and then dump you in the back. Take whatever it was he wanted from you and then throw you away like garbage. That would be the way your life would end, and you were powerless to stop it.

There was no chance of survival, and there was nothing you could do but prepare yourself for the inevitable.

He's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me

Razor placed his hand on top of yours.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you jerked your body away. The furthest you could go was the door, slamming your hands on the window as you ended up against it, pressing yourself against it as far as you could while tears began to fall. This was it. You shut your eyes, waiting for something bad to happen. Either metal being placed against your flesh or his hands wrapping around your neck. Maybe even a plastic bag placed over your head.

Why did he need to pick you?

Why couldn't he have left you alone?

You flinched again when you felt his hand on your shoulder. As this time there was nowhere else for you to go, his hand stayed.

Nothing more than that.

It took you a while to realize that he wasn't doing anything else. With however many minutes had passed with you hyperventilating and crying, he hadn't moved forward with any action other than the hand that he had placed on your shoulder.

After realizing that you were still alive when everything was telling you that you should be dead by now, you came to another realization: the way his hand was placed on your shoulder was almost as if he had done it as a way to comfort you.

His hand was warm where he touched you. Were it not for the horrible situation, it just might have made you feel a bit better.

By that point your cries had quieted down, and he took that as an opportunity to softly speak your name.

You glanced over at him through blurry vision.

He was frowning and his eyebrows were furrowed, but he didn't seem angry.

Razor actually looked sad.

“Are you really that scared of me?” he asked.

Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you nodded, and that only seemed to discourage him even more.

“Even after I told you that I'm not going to hurt you?”

“How can you expect me to trust anything you say?” was your response.

Razor stared at you, his hand still on you. His lips began to part as if to speak, but then he turned his head away from you, looking out through the windshield and at the highway before him.

“Can't argue with that,” you heard him mumble.

Then he removed his hand and returned his attention to driving the car, pulling back out onto the road and continuing on.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of the drive.

It was late when Razor decided to stop for a bit, pulling off of the highway and renting a room from a small and rather seedy-looking motel. He'd left you in the car while he went to get a room, and while he still warned you not to try anything, his tone wasn't quite as harsh as it had been those times earlier. It was as though he was trying to be more gentle with you.

You didn't respond except to nod silently.

Now it felt like you were repeating the situation from that first night: the both of you on the bed with you feeling incredibly unsafe while trying and failing to get any sleep. The biggest difference this time was that the mattress of the motel was uncomfortable as shit, and you shifted every few minutes as you tried to find a spot that felt nicer.

At least you weren't sleeping in the car again, you told yourself.

He was still awake. Although you tried not to pay attention to him, it was hard to keep your eyes averted whenever you turned to face his direction. More than once the two of you made eye contact, and immediately after you would turn away. You would have stayed facing away from him if only the goddamn mattress wasn't so awful. And shouldn't he be asleep by now?

The fact that Razor was still awake and alert after three days of what appeared to be constant driving wasn't normal; who the hell could go that long without rest? How had the two of you not yet died in a car crash?

Maybe kidnappers were built different, you dryly thought to yourself.

“…. Do you want to watch anything?”

Razor's voice interrupted that thought train, and you noted that his tone was soft again when he asked, but you shook your head as you stared straight ahead at the wall next to you.

He hummed, and it sounded like he was disappointed.

But for some reason that wasn't the end of it.

“What can I do to make you trust me?”

….. He had some nerve to ask that, after everything. Was he aware of that? Probably. Despite that odd thing regarding your opinion of him, he was pretty self-aware on how wrong all of this was. You'd be justified in ignoring him, though. Razor would probably recognize and understand that, as well.

…..

Even if you were justified, what good would that do you?

After a moment, you remained where you were but pulled your arms upward, holding your bound wrists in the air for him to see.

A few seconds passed and nothing happened.

You figured that his lack of action meant “no”, and with a sigh, you began to pull them back down.

Razor grabbed them.

For a second, all you felt was panic at his sudden touch. You were reminded of that first night and how powerless you were.

It only lasted a moment, however, as Razor grabbed at the zip-tie and, with a slight tug, snapped the plastic off of you. Within a moment, your wrists were free.

… Were they supposed to break that easily?

“Is that better?” Razor asked.

“…. Yeah.”

He pulled away, his eyes remaining on you after. And now that he had done as you wanted, there was a certain level of expectation in the air, such as you would look at him and have a conversation. A proper one.

Continuing to ignore him now seemed like it would be a bad idea.

So you sat up, turning around on the bed so you were facing him. He seemed pleased by that, so that wasn't bad.

But fuck he was intimidating.

Surely after the past few days your fear of just looking at and speaking to him should have gone down somewhat, but no. Looking at him head on while he had his full attention on you had your palms beginning to sweat.

You grabbed the pillow you'd been resting on and wrapped your arms around it as you held it close. Maybe that was pathetic but it made you feel better.

“Ready to talk?” Razor asked.

“Depends on what you have to say,” you answered, “if you're going to tell me that you'll be knocking out my teeth before you feed me to pigs then I'd rather you not say anything.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“I told you that you're not going to die.”

The firmness was back in his tone, and you sensed that he was getting to the point of being aggravated.

You looked away as you held the pillow tighter.

“Okay,” you breathed out, “I'll believe you. But then….”

You inhaled before you spoke.

“I want to know why you're taking me. And I don't want an excuse about needing to wait until we get to wherever. I want answers now.”

“I've been pretty cooperative, so I at least deserve that much,” you added.

You glanced over and then away again, still nervous about his potential reaction. While he didn't seem to have anger issues, he more than likely had limits when he was pushed too far. If he wasn't going to kill you, he could keep you alive to experience worse.

A second quick glance revealed that he was staring at that string around his finger.

Then he made eye contact again as he asked “do you think you could listen to what I have to say with an open mind?”

“Uh, sure?”

Razor didn't seem as pleased about the uncertainty that made it's way into your voice, but after a moment's hesitation, he seemed to resolve himself as he spoke again.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

You blinked.

“….. What do you mean?” you asked.

“That there are people in this world who are connected and are meant to be together?” he explained.

“Connected how?”

“By a force that's invisible to most,” said Razor, “like a red thread that you can only see if you have the ability to look.”

What

You blinked again, not sure of what to say.

“I… I guess I've never thought about it,” you began, “if I'm being honest, I'm really not sure.”

“I see.”

Again, there was disappointment in his tone.

Despite being worried to question him, you hesitantly asked “is…. Is there a reason why you asked?”

You had a bad idea as to why he'd mention such a thing. But you held onto hope that this tangent about soulmates was just his way of trying to make a joke so you felt better. Or maybe he was bringing up something this random just to fuck with you. Even that wouldn't be too bad.

He answered your question with a question of his own.

“What would you do if I said we were soulmates?” he asked.

“….”

…. Oh god.

This entire time you'd been convinced that Razor was going to kill you, no matter how much he said otherwise. And if not that, maybe that he would sell you off to someone. Now you were learning that all of this was happening because he was crazy. He'd seen you and was pushing some sort of fantasy onto you while justifying it with the notion of 'soulmates'. That had been all he needed to feel no guilt over tying you up and kidnapping you – because in his mind, what he was doing was right.

Of all the combinations he needed to be, why did he need to be both mentally unstable and unreasonably strong?

That was the other important thing: regardless of his sanity, he still posed an incredibly dangerous threat physically. As he continued to watch you while he waited for you to say something, you were aware that it would be a bad idea to flat-out say 'no'. Better to play along at least somewhat.

“…. I don't know,” you eventually told him.

Razor let out a soft sigh as he said “you think I'm insane, don't you?”

“N-no. Nothing like that,” you replied.

He hummed, and the way he hummed sounded as though he didn't believe you. Then he reached over and began to caress your cheek, making you cringe internally. While you wished you could get his hand off of you, you told yourself to deal with it for now.

“I wish I could show you proof – I really do,” Razor said, “but I'll get into some serious trouble if I use nen while I'm out here.”

That word…. He'd mentioned it before, though you still had no idea what it meant.

“So it needs to wait for the island?” you asked.

“Exactly.”

“…. Okay.”

Better to not make a fuss, you told yourself. Act like you're potentially open to the delusions he's spewing out. Delusional people prefer it when others agree with them, right?

Still, to find out that he had taken you because of such a reason….

The worst case scenario now was that you wouldn't get away and you'd be stuck playing out Razor's romance fantasy with him. At least you wouldn't be dead, right?

…..

It might be a good idea to get off of the soulmate subject, at least for now. And since he was mostly willing to be open and honest with you, now might not be a bad time to question something else he had said.

“Can I ask something else?”

The fact that you were changing subjects was obvious, but he seemed to accept it as he pulled his hand away as he answered “go ahead.”

“Why did you ask if I had seen you before?”

For some reason, that question was the one that had him frowning, and he tore his gaze away from you as he sighed.

“I don't know that you want to hear that answer,” he told you.

“Why?”

“It's not pleasant.”

“So?”

“… I'd rather we wait a while before we get to that discussion,” Razor said.

“I don't want to do that,” you replied.

He grimaced at your response, but oddly enough he didn't seem to be getting upset as he had been when you made that comment about him killing you. Maybe that was why you were spurred to push for him to speak.

“You said you want me to trust you, right? Why not answer?”

“Because you won't be happy with what I tell you.”

“Can it really be worse than what you've done to me so far?” you asked.

“If you can imagine the sort of crimes that get someone sent to death row, then yes.”

“…. Oh.”

Razor turned his head towards you, and you got a certain sense of “I told you so” when he looked over.

What he did couldn't have been any small crime – given how easy it had been to imagine him killing you, murder was the first thing you thought of. But even then, convicted killers didn't always get sentenced to death. There was that guy from Zaban who had literally torn his victims to pieces and while he had gotten over 900 years in prison, the fact that he hadn't been put to death was mind boggling to many.

So just what had Razor done to get himself on death row?

And why was literally everything about this only managing to become worse and worse?

“Why were you sent to death row?” you whispered after a few moments.

It wasn't much of a surprise when he took a bit to answer, frowning again as he stared off at the space in front of him. He didn't want you to know anything about this for some reason.

But eventually, he answered.

“I killed some people,” he said.

“How many?”

“You don't need to know.”

“Why did you kill them?”

“Because I could.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.”

That's horrible, you wanted to say. But you refrained. Not only because it would be pointing out the obvious, but it probably wouldn't do any good saying that to a man who admitted to something as awful as murder.

Because I could

The words echoed in your head, and you couldn't help but note how there had been a distinct lack of remorse in his tone. Almost as if he didn't care about the lives he had snuffed out for no reason.

A weight settled in your chest at that thought. Why it did remained unclear, but you found yourself wanting to make this better somehow.

“Do you feel bad about it?” you asked.

“What?”

His confusion was evident.

“Do you feel bad for killing those people?” you clarified, “if you could do it all over again, would you leave them alone?”

Why you now wanted so badly for him to agree with what you said was also unclear. Razor was a kidnapper and an admitted murderer – one who was bad enough that he earned himself a spot on death row. Why did it matter to you whether he was sorry for what he'd done?

But regardless, it seemed that was what your heart wanted.

Razor hadn't answered you, and in fact, he was looking at you as though you had grown three heads.

… That wasn't a good sign.

After a few moments where it seemed he was trying to pick his words carefully, he spoke up.

“I don't see much value in thinking about things I could've done differently in the past,” Razor answered.

Then he reached over to you.

While this time you didn't flinch or jerk away, you stiffened immediately, the pillow you held becoming squished between against you as you anticipated him putting his hands on you again.

Surprisingly, Razor paused when he saw your reaction, seeming thoughtful as he watched the way you sat, virtually petrified on the bed with a terrified look on your face.

Could he really blame you? He just told you a lot that warranted being worried about him. Even moreso than before.

Evidently he didn't, as he pulled his hand back and smiling at you again as he said “the important thing is what's happening now, and what our lives will be like from this point onward.”

“So let's not focus anymore on that,” he added.

Stop talking about it, was what he meant.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement.

Razor seemed pleased with that.

Not long after he told you to rest up, and within a few minutes the lights were off. Once more you needed to try and get some sleep while you lay next to your kidnapper, and the only saving grace was the fact that he was keeping his hands off of you this time. But while you tried to get some meager amount of sleep, you weren't able to focus much on his semblance of respecting your personal space. Instead, there was only one thought going through your head in that moment:

He wasn't sorry

Your wrists weren't tied up when you left the motel the next morning.

That was nice.

And while Razor wouldn't let you out of the car, he did stop at a restaurant to get you a to-go order of pancakes when you asked him to. Eating them in the moving car was awkward but you appreciated that he humored your request.

That was also nice, even if it had the potential of being your last meal before Razor took you to that island.

The knowledge soured the meal somewhat, but as much as you hated to admit it, you weren't so sure now that you would be escaping him. Razor hadn't given you any opportunity to take advantage of, and even with him giving you a bit more freedom of movement, he made a point to lock you inside the car during the time he was gone.

That made sense. After everything, you couldn't see him being foolish enough to leave you alone without having taken some step to secure you beforehand. It was actually pretty surprising that he was giving you the freedom he was after what he'd told you in that motel room.

Though maybe it wasn't too surprising when you considered the fact that he wanted you to like him. While the soulmate thing was complete bullshit, that was what Razor believed. So it made sense that he would want you to feel good about him since he planned on keeping you with him from now on.

That last part had never been said, but you got the sense that would be what happened if Razor got his way.

The rest of your life being spent playing into this man's delusions….

You would have shuddered at the thought if not for your fear that Razor would notice it.

“We'll be driving through the rest of the night,” he told you some time later, “and by tomorrow morning we'll have made it to our boat. From there it won't be too long of a journey to the island.”

You nodded along, though hearing what he said caused a pit to form in your stomach.

Once you were on that boat, the chances of escape were next to zero. It would be better to throw away any thoughts of escape if you were to reach that point.

To try and get away while on the water would be suicide.

He asked you questions every now and then, and though it wasn't as strong as it had been the previous night, you felt that pressure like you needed to answer him in exchange for the kindnesses he had shown you.

So you did what he wanted, and every time you glanced to him after, you saw a pleased look on his face.

You should've felt bad for him. Razor was the one who clearly had a lot of issues – things that, if he was a bit more mentally well, he probably wouldn't have done. Maybe. But then again, you were the one being dragged along with him against your will, so your sympathy could only go so far.

The sun was setting when Razor pulled over to another gas station to refill the tank. This was probably the last stop like this that you'd be making, if what Razor said earlier was correct.

The hand drier in the bathroom was still roaring when you left, only to be muted once the door shut behind you. As you had done a lot over the past few days, you immediately headed back towards the car as you knew your kidnapper wanted you to.

Only this time he wasn't watching you like a hawk.

Razor was by the car as the tank continued to fill, leaning against it as he stared out into the distance. Your gaze followed his, and you found that he seemed to be staring at a factory that sat in the distance, if the long, rectangular building accompanied by several smokestacks were any indication. Or perhaps he was looking beyond that, at the city that which was several miles away but still visible from where you stood. Or maybe it was just the sunset. It was at the time of day where the sky was at its prettiest.

Instead of entering the car once you returned, you went to his side and stood next to him, copying the way he leaned on it. He glanced at you, but said nothing about what you were doing. He only returned his gaze to the sight in front of him.

And then an odd expression morphed onto his face.

One that was almost wistful.

“Are you okay?” you asked cautiously.

Razor seemed surprised, looking back at you as he asked “why?”

“You look a little sad, I guess.”

“Do I?”

He looked back in the direction of the factory and the city that sat far off in the distance, and that wistful expression returned. As much as you wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, that question felt like it might be too intrusive and could potentially cause a bad reaction from him, particularly if it involved his past. He really didn't want you to know much in regard to that.

He let out a sigh.

“I guess I am, a little bit,” Razor said, “this is the last time I get to be out and about in the world like this. Once we get back to the island, I know I'll never leave again.”

“Never?” you repeated.

“Never,” he said, “the purpose of leaving the island every so often was to find you, and now that I have, there's no reason for me to come out here like this.”

He leaned his head back, now looking at the darkening sky above him as he added “I knew it was coming, but I didn't think it would bother me, knowing that this is the last time I can walk around like I'm free.”

“… Are you not?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

“Death row convict.”

“Ah. Right.”

You went over the new information in your head.

“So you can't leave the island once you go back?” you asked, “is it a prison?”

He let out a short laugh.

“It's a prison for some of us, but even then it's nicer than any traditional prison you'll find,” he said.

“Us? There are others like you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but don't worry, you won't need to interact with them.”

You nodded, though your eyebrows furrowed as you thought on it a bit more.

“Will I be able to leave at all?” you asked.

“No.”

You sighed.

“Figures.”

Kicking at a bit of rubble by your foot, you said “so, the plan from here is to go to an island where we'll never leave, and then just….. Hang out there forever?”

“There's a bit more to it than that.”

“Hm.”

When Razor reached for you that time, you didn't flinch or shy away. And when his hand settled on your shoulder, you didn't give much reaction other than to look at him.

“It won't be that bad. The places you'll be able to go to are the nice ones,” he said.

“…. It's still really depressing that I can't ever leave once I get there.”

Razor smiled at you, and this time the sadness he felt was even more obvious.

“I know.”

Then he stood up straight, announcing “we should get going.”

You nodded, and you wordlessly walked around the car to get to the front passenger's seat.

When you were both in the car and after you'd buckled up, something else strange happened.

Razor reached out and pulled you towards him, your head resting on his chest while he kept you in something that resembled a hug.

“I do regret that you've gotten dragged into this,” he whispered against your hair, “I really mean that. While I can't do anything to stop it, I'll do my best to make it easier for you. I promise.”

In that moment, you had no insights as to what Razor was truly thinking or feeling, no clue that everything he'd just said was a genuine promise from him that he intended to keep. So you had no idea how his heart skipped a beat when he felt your hands reach up and hold onto his jacket. You had no idea of the relief that filled him when you moved in closer and reciprocated his hug.

“I trust you, Razor.”

As those words were whispered from your lips, you had no idea that, in that moment, Razor truly believed that he had your acceptance.

There was no one else on the docks when you got there in the morning, arriving early enough that the morning mist was still present as Razor navigated the car through various warehouses and massive walls of shipping containers. Was it unusual for such a place to be completely empty at this time of day? You weren't sure; you didn't know enough about this kind of place to be able to tell what was normal or not.

All the sight did was guarantee that no one other than Razor would witness the last moments you had on the mainland.

Eventually the car came to a stop not far from the edge. Just as he had said, there was a boat sitting in the water. It wasn't anything new as it looked quite battered, but presumably it would make the journey that Razor wanted it to.

Though it would be morbidly funny if, after all of his efforts, it were to sink in the middle of the trip.

“Let's go,” Razor told you.

He stepped out of the car, and after a few moments, you copied the action.

The smell of the ocean air hit you after you got out. You stood there, your hand gripping at the top of the door to keep yourself steady as you looked out at the water before you, and then the boat.

One last leg of the journey, and then you'd be stuck with Razor for good.

…..

No one would ever find you, probably. Your disappearance had more than likely been reported by now, but all efforts to find you would be focused on that hotel you'd been staying at and the surrounding area; who would ever think to look for you on the water? Even if someone remembered seeing your face and informed the authorities, how would they reach anything other than a dead end once they got to the shoreline? You didn't have the time to leave some sign of you behind, nor could you with Razor undoubtedly watching you as close as he had been. You couldn't do anything.

Once you stepped on that boat, you weren't getting away from him. To try and do so would be suicide, you reminded yourself.

Your grip on the door became harder and breathing became more difficult the longer you stared at the boat.

I don't want to go I don't want to go I don't want to go

And again you asked why he needed to pick you.

Razor's voice saying your name forced you away from your thoughts, and you turned your head to see that he had your luggage slung over his shoulder and a concerned look on his face as he watched you. Your internal freak out wasn't as internal as you thought it was, then.

Swallowing a few times, you eventually asked “can I just….. Can I have a minute?”

“…. Alright.”

Then, to your utter surprise, Razor turned and began walking towards the boat.

Leaving you behind.

……

Was this some kind of test? Or maybe…. Did he think that since you were now at this point, he could relax a bit in watching you? Was he that confident you weren't going anywhere?

Razor continued making his way to the boat without a single glance back at you.

Your heart began to beat hard against your chest as you realized: you could run.

If you waited until he reached the boat and then made a break for it, you might just have a decent head start. If not to escape the area completely, then to find someplace to hide. Maybe find a phone and call for help. If it was a landline phone, they should be able to figure out your location without you needing to try and figure out where you were exactly.

If he caught you, it'd be bad for you, sure. But….

As he went further and further away, you were acutely aware that this was the first chance you had gotten to make an escape. The only chance you had. Were you really going to waste it by being too afraid of him?

….. No.

For once, you were going to take control of the situation.

And you were leaving.

You kept watch as Razor stepped off the dock and onto the boat, your things still in hand as he made his way to the cabin. Your hand was still gripping the door, your knuckles becoming pale from how hard you held onto it.

When he went inside. That was when you would run.

Once he stepped through the low doorway of the cabin, you did just that.

You pushed off from the door and you ran.

All you heard was your shoes on the dock and your own heartbeat in your ears as you propelled yourself forward. That felt a bit odd; you would have expected to hear him call out in anger on seeing you running. But at you reached the end and turned a corner past a line of containers, you didn't hear anything from him. There was no indication he even noticed that you had fled.

That was even better. While he would notice soon enough, every second you got with him being unaware would help in aiding your escape. You could do this. With every step forward you took with no sign of Razor coming after you, your confidence grew.

And then, after exiting the row of containers and reaching a warehouse, you saw a godsend:

A man.

He stood at the end of the structure, standing with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on you once you rounded the corner. With black hair sticking out of a odd blue cap and the rest of his blue and white clothing looking slightly worn, he looked raised an eyebrow as he took in your disheveled state.

You, on the other hand, felt relief upon seeing him. This was someone who could help. If you could explain what was happening, he could get you away and call the police. Then all of your problems would be over.

You could go home.

So you ran towards him, calling out “sir! Please, help me!”

He said nothing, but when you stumbled as you reached him, he took his hands out of his pockets so as to steady you, keeping his hands on your arms while you grabbed at the long blue scarf that hung from his neck.

“Please,” you said again, gulping as you did your best to maintain your composure, “I've been kidnapped. We need to get out of here and call the police.”

“Kidnapped? Who would kidnap you?” the man asked.

“He-he said that he's a death row convict,” you began, “he was waiting for me in my hotel room, and he tied me up and took me with him. Now he's trying to take me to some island and he says I can't ever come back.”

When the man didn't immediately respond, you got a bit more frantic as you cried “I swear, I'm not making this up! I've really been kidnapped, and I need the police before he tries to get me again! All of this is true!”

The logical part of your brain knew that getting hysterical wouldn't help you. But you weren't able to be completely logical in that moment. Now that you were so close to escape, you couldn't control yourself. You needed him to listen to what you were saying.

Finally, the man nodded.

“I believe you,” he said.

Relief rushed through you as you smiled, and you held onto his scarf tighter, unwilling to let go of this lifeline.

You spoke to the man again, asking if he had a phone, or better yet, if he had a car, and if he knew how far away the nearest police station was. He didn't really answer, though perhaps he couldn't with the way you were rambling in that moment. But you noticed when he looked past you and down the path that you'd just come from.

Your eyes followed his gaze and just like that your words died in your throat as your grip on the man's scarf became tighter, this time from fear.

Razor was there. Staring at you.

And for the first time, you saw true anger in him. Those dark eyes glared at you across the distance as he saw you in this unknown man's arms.

He's going to kill me

You looked back to the man, ready to beg for him to help again, for him to get you out of here before Razor murdered both you.

The man spoke before you could.

“Is this them, Razor?” he asked.

…. Huh?

He knew Razor's name?

How? You hadn't told this man what your kidnapper's name was. You were certain that you hadn't.

“Yeah,” your kidnapper answered.

Razor was talking to him? Not flying into a murderous rage and killing you both? The nonchalance of his reply was also a shock.

“Huh. I'm a little surprised,” the man said as he looked back to you.

“Surprised at what?” Razor asked. He started to walk forward at a moderate pace, taking his time while he kept his eyes fixed on you.

“That they got away from you,” the man answered.

You tried pulling away from him then. But the grip he had on your arms was ironclad, and no amount of wriggling would free you.

This man was far, far stronger than he looked.

“That was an error in judgment on my part,” Razor answered, coming to a stop as he had now reached the two of you by the warehouse.

“I'm sorry to have made you step in, Ging,” Razor added.

Ging?

The man who held you laughed.

“I don't mind,” Ging answered, “saves you the hassle of catching them again, right?”

“Right…..”

Razor's voice trailed off as he stared at you again, and with him being so much closer this time, you felt your entire body shudder while your heart beat pounded in your chest again, now being caused by pure, unadulterated fear.

He was so, so mad.

Ging then smiled at your kidnapper.

“Well, aside from this little mishap, everything else work out well?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Razor answered. His attention finally went back to Ging, and you felt like you could breathe again.

“Glad to hear it.”

Ging was saying something else to him but you couldn't completely hear it. You still tried to slip your way out of Ging's fingers, but it was no use; he wasn't letting go unless he wanted to. Tears were welling up as you continued the futile effort. And somehow, the fact that he wasn't even acknowledging your attempt to get away only made it worse.

Why? Why did Ging need to be here to catch you? Why did you need to have such awful luck?

What was going to happen to you now?

You didn't want to find out, and so despite knowing that there was no hope of getting away now, you still tried.

If there was such a thing as divine intervention, you wanted it right now.

“Ah, Right. Before you go, I need to see that you haven't used your nen,” said Ging.

Instead of answering, Razor held up his hand, showing the teal bit of string that was still wrapped around his pinky.

“Just needed to check,” Ging told him, “we'd both be in trouble if that was broken.”

“I know.”

“Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way-”

Finally removing his hand from where he'd been gripping you, Ging unexpectedly turned you around and pushed you, causing you to stumble forward.

Right into Razor.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, and his hold on you was immediate and unforgiving, gripping you to the point that it hurt. Like with Ging, you wanted to struggle. You wanted to try and do everything in your power to break free of him.

But unlike with Ging, there was an air around Razor now that felt dangerous.

No, worse than that.

It truly felt like he was ready to kill someone.

And with that aura that surrounded you to the point that you felt like it might actually smother you to death, you couldn't bring yourself to fight against him. It was all you could do to keep your feet planted firmly on the ground.

Meanwhile, Ging and Razor were continuing their conversation.

“Think your replacement will be happy to see you back?” Ging asked.

“They'll probably just be relieved that they'll be done overseeing my duties,” Razor answered, “it usually takes them a few days after before they're at one hundred percent power again.”

“Well of course. The emission system was designed with specifically you in mind. There's no way anyone can run it as smoothly as you do.”

“Yeah.”

Despite his short answer, there was a hint of pride within Razor's voice, and the heavy air around you lifted somewhat.

Ging then looked back to you, smiling as he said “and now we've got this one, it'll be even better than before.”

And just like that, the air was suffocating again. It was like Razor had briefly forgotten the way he had been upset with you only to be shortly reminded of it.

Did Ging know that would happen?

…. Did he do it on purpose?

“Well, I'll let you get going then,” Ging then said, “I'm sure there's a lot you need to talk to them about.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, and you're free to use your hatsu now if you need to.”

Razor nodded as he said “see you, Ging.”

Ging waved in response before he turned away.

Razor did the same, one hand remaining on your arm as he began to drag you behind him.

Except your legs didn't want to work, still feeling weak and like they would bend beneath you at any moment. You stumbled along for only a few steps before he bent down to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder.

He handled you roughly as he did so, the breath in your lungs pushing out with a sharp gasp before he continued along. Again he was holding you tightly after, as if with the intent to bruise, like he wanted to leave marks on your skin beneath your clothing. You frequently felt the way his fingers twitched, like he was fighting the urge to do something violent. You were crying now, but your throat was too clogged up to make any noise.

The position you were now in allowed you to watch Ging as he walked away from the two of you. His hands were in his pockets again and he walked at a relaxed pace.

If you weren't so terrified of Razor you might have screamed at the man who gave you back to your kidnapper. Maybe wish torture and death upon him.

But you didn't dare let any noise escape you now.

Why did this need to happen to you?

That thought repeated itself through the entire walk back to the boat while you quietly cried atop Razor's shoulder. Like that very first night, he had yet to say anything. And once you reached the small flight of stairs that led down inside the boat, he moved you off his shoulder.

He pushed you down the stairs just as quickly and you tumbled down into the darkness.

Despite the short fall, it still hurt when you landed, your arms taking the brunt of it. However, you barely let out a pained groan afterwards, instead quietly sitting upright before you curled in on yourself, nursing your bruised arms. It still felt like a bad idea to say anything. Even though Razor hadn't come down, you still felt that air around you. Something bad was going to happen shortly.

The sound of an engine coming to life and reverberating through the small vessel caught your attention, as did the way the boat began to move away from the docks and out onto the water.

Perhaps that meant he wouldn't come down. If he was too busy driving the boat, then you would probably be left here until he reached his destination. That wasn't bad. If he took some time away from you, then maybe he wouldn't be as upset when he saw you again.

Deciding on that being what was most likely to happen, you settled down on the floor, anticipating a long, lonely journey.

Someone's hand grabbed at you in the darkness.

Now you screamed.

On instinct, you tried to pull your arm away. Your attempt was unsuccessful, and the hand hauled you up to your feet.

Another hand grabbed at you, this time clamping down onto your leg. No matter how hard you tried to kick them away, you couldn't escape their grip.

Someone else grabbed your legs, wrapping their arms around one of your knees so you were unable to move. At that same time, someone else grabbed your free hand, and both of your arms were stretched out away from your body, making it even harder to struggle.

You still tried, though. Even when a body came up from behind you and hooked their elbows beneath your armpits, you did everything in your power to wiggle out of those hands that held onto you.

If only that had been enough.

Within moments you were completely immobilized, your body held down by the multitude of hands that had come from the darkness. The only thing you could do was scream, and the ability to do even that was taken away when a large palm slapped over your mouth. Tears continued to stream down your face.

The lights were suddenly turned on, forcing you to close your eyes while you heard Razor descend the small flight of stairs. It took a few moments of blearily opening your eyes before they adjusted to the light, but when they did, you found Razor standing in front of you.

But you weren't able to keep your focus on him for long, not when you saw who was holding you. Several men dressed in white and blue, their blue caps covering their eyes.

….. No, not men.

Things.

They weren't human. They couldn't be. Despite their humanoid shapes, the wide smiles that were filled with the dangerously sharp teeth wasn't something any human you knew of possessed. The pure white skin was also a sign that these weren't human. Not just from the sight alone, but from how that skin felt against your own. It felt artificial, and their touch was completely cold. And while you weren't able to see any of their eyes due to the blue caps adorned with numbers, every single one of them was looking right at you, smiling at you while they held you down.

Your breathing became harsher as you began to truly panic, your sobs muffled by the hand that kept you silent. You were quickly becoming lightheaded.

Somehow, the one that was covering your mouth realized this as they pulled their hand away, and you took in a few desperate gulps of air before you focused on Razor again.

His expression was just as grim as it had been when he was outside.

“Trust is an awful thing to break,” he said.

He stepped forward, and your body tensed as you tried to back away from him. Unsurprisingly, the grip those creatures had on you remained strong.

“It can take a long time to build up even in the best of circumstances, and then it can shatter completely with a single lie,” he continued.

“Or a single act.”

Razor stood before you now, towering over you with a dark look in his eyes.

“I thought we had an understanding,” he said to you, “after what we talked about, after what you said to me yesterday, I really thought that we had gotten somewhere. That even if you didn't entirely understand it, the soulmate connection was enough to keep you from running,” he continued.

“But you were lying through your teeth about everything, weren't you?”

His expression when he said that was too scary and you looked down, focusing instead on the creature that had wrapped it's arms around your knee.

You weren't allowed to look away for long as Razor grabbed you by your face and forced you to look up at him, being forced to maintain the uncomfortable eye contact.

Unable to keep yourself calm, your breathing came in harsh as you stared back at him.

And for some reason that seemed to have an effect, as the look on his face softened ever so slightly.

Razor sighed.

“Maybe…. Maybe this hurts a bit more than I expected because we're soulmates,” he thought aloud, “maybe I thought, even without the nen, that you would understand faster because the connection should have been enough.”

“I-I'm – I'm not-” you began.

He moved his hand up so it covered your mouth, cutting you off from whatever excuse he felt would fall from your mouth. Now that you were again unable to speak, you sniffled against his hand while the tears that ran down your cheek met with his fingers.

The boat was still moving, and had seemingly picked up a bit more speed as it continued forward through the water. It was going further and further away from the land, further and further out to the open ocean. You remembered what you had told yourself before:

You weren't getting away now.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you slumped over in the grip of those monsters, your body going limp. Continuing to resist now was thoroughly meaningless.

And some part of you said that it always had been.

It was still quiet; Razor said nothing more, you only continued to quietly cry and those creatures hadn't uttered a single word the entire time. The only things that kept it from being completely silent were the hum of the engine and the sound of the waves that hit the hull of the boat.

When he pulled his hand off of your mouth, you said nothing, continuing to stare up at him as you bit your lip.

Then Razor smiled.

“Ah well. Us being soulmates doesn't mean that we won't make some mistakes now and then, right?”

Despite the pleasant expression on his face, the mood in the room was anything but. Even when he used his thumb to wipe the tears from your face, the action lacked any sort of kindness. There was still a smothering aura that surrounded both him and you, though now it had significantly lessened.

But that didn't make him feel any less dangerous.

“We have several hours before we get to Greed Island – that's plenty of time for us to become acquainted properly. And I'm sure that by the end of it, we'll have both learned some things about each other.”

The smile on Razor's face had never looked more menacing.

“After all, if there's anyone who can forgive me about what I'm about to do, it'll be my soulmate, right?”

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere razor #razor x reader #hxh razor #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #yandere

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letorip · 7 months ago

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Can you do headcanons for Jenna’s characters with a tall reader?

tall reader

it's been a little bit since i've been back on here and actively posted, but you know what i felt bad that i hadn't, so i did this to kind of assure everyone who didn't see my last thing that i'm still alive and well. sorry for not responding sooner to this request. also, if you see this, do not panic, i promise, i'm still finishing kiss with a fist [iii] and we’re only a few days from casual [iii]. the last thing i want is someone seeing me update and then immediately jumping into my inbox to ask about those, because i'm hard at work at them anyways

also, if you're not tall, just imagine it for a moment, lmao

wednesday addams

she’s not especially expressive, so she’ll never admit to it, but she absolutely loves that you’re so much taller than her. it’s cheesy and she knows you'll tease her about it, if she does mention it

she fumbles the bag at first, when during one of your first conversations, she says "you remind me of lurch." it's not exactly flattering to be told you remind her of her 40 year old butler who looks like a skeleton, and it makes you think she doesn't like you, at first, but to be fair, she meant it as a compliment

you try to brush past it, and wednesday too, and she's confused as to why you didn't seem flattered. enid's mouth drops open when wednesday recounts your interaction, and she tries to coach her through fixing her mistake

unfortunately your next conversation is only more awkward, when she walks it back and says "you DON'T remind me of lurch." she thinks it's a good way to recover from her previous error, but you just look even more confused, and she's suddenly walking off before she fucks up anything any more

she does manage to have an actual conversation with you later, after you take the turn to initiate, and that's how you two actually begin to grow closer and closer

even in her big ass platform boots, you’re still taller than her. it closes a little bit of the distance, but you're still much taller

she grabs your tie or bunches your shirt and pulls you down to her level, in order to kiss you. it hurts your neck sometimes, but you’d never ever tell her not to do it

even when she tugs you down for a kiss, she still has to stand on her tippy toes, especially if she’s only in socks

it does make you the ideal height for cuddling, though

wednesday claimed at first that she would cut your fingers off if you tried to hold her, but she slowly learns to crave it. all you have to do is give her a look and lift up your blanket, and she’ll crawl right in, especially if it’s after an investigation and she’s exhausted

theres just something oddly relaxing about curling up and feeling you wrap yourself around her. you’re definitely big spoon in this scenario. not that she wouldn’t hold you the same— she does, especially when she’s worried about the investigation but doesn’t want to say anything— but she likes how you’re able to completely wrap around her and how she can almost burrow herself into you

wednesday absolutely adores to sit on your lap. she’ll sit on your lap whenever and wherever she can. sideways with her arms around your neck, back to front with your arms around her waist, facing you in a straddle, during the more heated moments. she said she’d never be like her parents, but she also finds your lap to be the most comfortable seat around

she plops herself down onto your lap whenever she feels the person you're talking to is laughing a little too much at your jokes. she'll wander right over, wordlessly, sit down on your lap, wrap an arm around your neck, and stare at the person you're talking to with a usual disinterest, and they very quickly get the memo and leave

not that you realise this pattern, of course

you also use your height to help in the investigation. getting books for her off of high-up, dusty shelves, giving her a boost through windows that she shouldn't be breaking into, you name it. your willingness to assist her in her crazy plan is just part of what she loves about you

"can you reach that for me, cara mia?"

she does miraculously know your measurements, of course, when it comes to buying clothes. being tall makes clothes somewhat hard, but she always manages to buy the perfect sized thing, and you're starting to wonder if she somehow measured you, when you weren't paying attention

tara carpenter

you guys begin as sworn enemies after meeting at blackmore, and it results in a lot of mean insults about each others' height. she calls you the jolly green giant and you call her dwarf. she calls you giraffe, you call her stuart little. neither of you will admit that you find the other obnoxiously attractive

she says you're freakishly tall, but you're only a little taller than chad. she never annoys him about his height, only you, but for what it's worth, you annoy her right back

it culminates one night during a drunken hookup after you've shouted insults into each others faces. tara won't admit her anger is from seeing a random girl grind on you, and you won't admit you're annoyed that ethan and chad are obviously in love with her, and doing their best at flirting

you don't know who closes the distance first, but the next thing you know, you're messily pressing your mouths together and tara is climbing you like a damn tree, i mean, this is literally her

immediately after, you and tara try to pretend it didn't happen, and it lasts all of one week before she's jumping your bones again, only this time neither of you are drunk

you get together shortly after, but best believe the teasing doesn't stop. she'll still call you her little construction crane, and you'll smile with a faux sweetness and call her your little hobbit, until she smacks you on the arm

you're definitely a fiery couple, on both sides, but you do have your sweet moments

you give her piggyback rides because you're tall enough to do so, and she just happily wraps her arms around your neck and lets you carry her places. pretty much any time she gets tired enough (or even when she isn't really tired at all), she'll give you a cute pout and put her arms out, and you'll pick her up

tara loves to cuddle with you, but even then, sometimes you both squabble over the blanket, and she'll start complaining about how you hog the whole thing because of your height. it turns into a playful wrestling match, and while you have the obvious advantage and could flip her right around at any given moment, you let her climb on top of you and pin your arms above your head in a proud victory (which takes a lot of effort, considering how short she is)

of course, like all of your play-fights, it turns into something more

she doesn't like to talk about woodsboro, but she does find a comfort in how tall you are. it makes her feel a bit safer with you around, not that a couple inches would stop ghostface or anything

but she feels a genuine relaxation, when you can both be in bed together, and you're completely holding her in your arms, and it's not a thing she thought she'd feel again

you give her your jacket when she's cold, and she has to bunch the fabric around her elbows, or it'll absolutely swim on her. she always teases you about it, but the moment you jokingly threaten to take it back, she'll roll her eyes with a smile and tug it on with a kiss to your cheek

sometimes when you're cooking in the kitchen, she'll wrap her arms around your waist and let her head rest against the small of your back

you also help her when she's studying in the school library, by similarly grabbing books off the shelf for her

when she wants to rest her head on your shoulder, you still have to crane your neck down to let her. it's not super comfortable, but you still do it, because she looks adorable when she sleeps

she's figured out something seriously cruel. you complained about her feet being cold once, when you were snuggling, and ever since you mentioned it, tara realised she's the perfect height to press a cold foot right onto your back. she does it when she wants to start a play-fight, and it works like a charm every time

you're annoyed by it, but it definitely does make her laugh

lorraine day

your height is immediately what lorraine clocks onto, when she first sees you, because she's coming back from a shoot, getting dropped off by RJ, and she sees you in the distance, hopping a fence like it's no effort at all, when the same fence is a pain for lorraine to climb

you're the new ranch hand that her father hired while she was gone, and when she officially meets you, the both of you don't exactly get off on the right foot

you don't actually say much, which is something her father warned her of before you were introduced, but she at least expected some kind of "hello." instead, you just stare down at her from the shadow of your hat with a neutral nod, and then go off to get back to work. no giving her your name, no asking her any questions, no interest whatsoever

she doesn't know if she's more offended by your lack of manners or more upset you don't seem anywhere near as curious about her as she is about you

your height makes you ideal for most ranching activities though. you easily climb up and down from your horse and you're a speedy, fast rider.

when lorraine is on her shorter breed of horse, you're still as tall as her shoulders, and you help her get ready to go out on her horse with you and her father, even if it is wordlessly

she's only heard you speak a few times, and it's mostly been laughing with her father, which abruptly stops when lorraine gets close enough

after a rare bit of rain, lorraine's boots are slippery, and she slides out of the stirrup when dismounting way quicker than she was ready for. luckily, you're there to catch her, and she collides against you, pretty much right into your arms

unfortunately, you both fall back into a pile of horse shit, and the next thing she knows, she's hearing a nice, airy laughter coming from you. she's damn sure it's the first time she's seen you smile or laugh, and it's got her laughing too

she apologises, but you say "it's nothin," and you both kind of naturally grow closer from there

you help her up onto her horse, when she's without a saddle. you're tall enough to do so, and you hoist her up gently and set her on the animal's back with a small smile, and it kind of makes her heart beat real fast

it turns out the rough and tough cowboy exterior is a false image of you lorraine created in her mind. you're actually just a quiet, hot, tall, dork

you're feeding her horse a carrot or something, about to go out and do your job with lorraine eager to tag along, and she doesn't know what comes over her, but she leans down a little and plants a kiss right on your lips

she's the champion of sitting on stuff to reach your face: a fence, her horse, a hay bale. she likes being above you for once, and you're not complaining whatsoever

she tugs on the belt loop of your jeans when she wants you to lean down and kiss her. she also absolutely steals your baseball cap, and then to be funny, your cowboy boots, and she laughs about how big on her the cowboy boots are and clomps around in them

her family house has low ceilings, so it's kind of a pain to walk through, especially in your boots. for the most part, you live above the barn because of the higher ceilings, and sometimes (most nights) lorraine sneaks out to see you

she absolutely loves to sit on your shoulders. it's not especially comfortable for you, but you let her do it at the town events like fireworks and festivals and stuff. she sits on your shoulders for a "better view," and she'll rest her chin on top of your head

sorry to RJ, he's getting dumped the moment he comes back into town

cairo sweet

she doesn't even really realise you're tall at first, because she just sees you in your chair, on the second day of the new semester

you're new in town, a transfer kid and a cross country prodigy, with record times and future athletic scholarships up the wazoo, owed partially to being much taller than average. but the two most annoying things about you is that you can write, and you've read mr. miller's book

mr. miller seems rather pleased with having you in his class, and immediately it makes cairo hate you. her whole plan pretty much crumbles with you now in the way, and she absolutely loathes you for it

her new plan becomes to seduce you and distract you from school, and it works because you do harbour a giant, absolutely massive crush on her

your mother, who's also your coach, wants you to stay focused on athletics and not let cairo get in the way, but talking to her makes you melt, and when she finds you one day, in the locker room after everyone's left, you immediately cave when she sloppily kisses you and shoves her tongue into your mouth

your height is ideal for picking her up and pushing her back against the lockers, while her legs wrap around your waist

tree climber core again

she says it's just a scheme, but after you earnestly ask her out on a date and you both have a fantastic time, cairo's master plan goes out the window, and she just enjoys you for you

she goes to all of your meets, and she'll stand at the railing of the bleachers, and watch you with a smile (she's too fancy to cheer like a soccer mom out loud, but know she's really rooting for you on the inside)

you're like that one track couple at the olympics, if y'all have seen the clip. you finish your run in first place, qualifying for the state competition, and before anyone can congratulate you, you're running in cairo's direction, at the bleachers.

you're tall enough to the point that you just stand there on the ground, and cairo leans over the railing and kisses you, pulling away to cup your cheeks

your height is definitely a plus, in that when cairo is especially miffed at something mr. miller said or another student, after class, she'll grab your arm and wrap it around her shoulder

you barely fit on your twin-sized mattress, but cairo owns a king in her massive ass house, so it's a plus, whenever you go over to her place to "study"

just like with wednesday, when you're over at her house, you're the person who grabs her books off her shelf for her. she'll whisper a thanks and press a kiss to your cheek. sometimes she'll stand behind you and watch you grab a book off the shelf, just to see the stretch in your muscles and watch you move. she's just thinking "i'm no better than a man" while it happens

she love love loves to lay on top of you, on the sofa, when she's got a book to read. she'll just lay back against your chest, in your embrace, with a book in hand

she'll borrow your jacket, even though she complains it doesn't match her style, but it still swims on her

absolutely loves to be princess-carried to her bed when she falls asleep on the couch reading. she'll fall asleep because it's just too comfortable there, and you'll carry her up the stairs and tuck her in

she also grabs your collar and tugs you down to her for a kiss. either that, or she'll tug on your sleeve, which you now know is cairo saying she wants a kiss or a hug

#answered #jenna ortega x reader #cairo sweet x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x you #letorip

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