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tired-pigeon789 · 8 months ago

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A Deeper Understanding

(Astarion X Anemic GNreader)

Notes: this whole fic is based on MY OWN experience with anemia which happened with extreme blood loss and just general low iron. and is VERY self indulgent. I also don't think about Astarion romantically but if you read this fic that way go ahead. I don't blame ya lol. Tav is also gender neutral and not named, there no description of what Tav looks like aside from them at least having shoulder length hair. (I also didn't really re-read this lol so sorry for any mistakes)

word count: 1983

general warnings: lots of mentions of blood and blood loss.

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It was rough, the last encounter took a lot out of all of us and I’m feeling weak even after Shadowheart’s healing and the health potion. Even worse was the blood loss. Dreadful goblin gave me a deep slash and even though it’s patched I’m dizzy and lightheaded. A feeling I’ve grown used to but this is a new extreme. Personally I don’t feel the need to disclose my low iron. Just how often does one need to bring up such a thing? Well, one needs to bring it up when they are being healed I suppose. “If you knew you had this condition, why throw yourself at the main line of fire?” Shadowheart asks while taking my pulse. “I overestimated my abilities, yes, but at least they got me and not Astarion, he gave the final blow to the mage goblin.” I point out while I drink a hot tea while lean against one of support poles in shadowheart’s tent. She simply sighs as I feel her opinion change of me. “You’d be as good as dead if you don’t watch yourself. We already have enough going on.” I simply say ‘I know’ as I thank shadowheart for her help and rest up a bit before I go off and help the others set up camp for the night. We had found a cast iron pot and pan to cook with so at least I’ll be getting what I’m lacking from that. The stew Gale had made for everyone was wonderful and tasteful, and even though I had little to no appetite it helped and I started to feel more alert but sleep is still needed.

It was dark and late, the moon shines overhead and keeps my eyes closed. I feel weak after everything I’ve been through today but I’m just happy to have a bedroll to lay in. I just can’t sleep. In, out, in, out melt away stress. Breathe in, breathe out. I think this to myself as I try to sleep. I feel as relaxed as I can be but I just can’t slip away into the blissful void of sleep. First the blood loss and now the loss of sleep. There’s simply no winning today it seems. Sighing I open my eyes and gasp as I see Astarion hover over me, Fangs bare, a vampire. Quickly I prop myself up and try to steady myself despite the lightheadness and the massive headache.

“Shit.” He says as he backs away while I prop myself up on my elbows while I glare at the man “No No- It’s not what it looks like I swear.” “What the hell Astarion!” Glaring at the pale elf I see him look down at me. “I wasn’t going to hurt you I swear, I just needed some blood.” Getting at better at him I see now for what he is. “A vampire, honestly I'm kicking myself for not seeing it sooner.” I say as I try to keep my distance from him. “I’m not some monster,” he says in a desperate voice as he try to find the words to defend himself. “I only drink from animals, Boars, dear... Kobolds, whatever I can get, it’s just, after everything I’m too slow to go out and hunt.” “And you thought the best way to deal with that was to get a drink from me?” Astarion looks taken a back but sighs. “I just need a little blood, so that I may think clearer, and fight better. Just a taste, please.” The way he said please made me hold my breath for a moment. Probably because I know that feeling well. That lightheadedness, the faint lights that plagued my eyes when I walk the need to hold on to anything. It’s helpless feeling, one that I didn’t expect to share with a vampire.

“So if you drink my blood, you’ll be stronger?” I ask as I try to calm down and think more pragmatically about this offer. “It would benefit us all, but if not I could just hunt a bear or boar out in the woods.” Astaron says plainly. If I do this he’ll be better in combat, but I’m already weak as it is if I don’t sleep or eat something bloody myself. I know what he says is true, it’s basic logic when it comes to vampires. And deep down inside me I feel that understanding, maybe it’s one sided trust but I know if I had a way to rid of this feeling this hunger myself I would. At the end of it I sigh and nod. “Ok, I’ll let you do this, but you have to promise to stop when you have your fill and, you have to keep an eye on me.” Astaron smirks as he kneels in front of me with a look in his eye saying ‘I can’t believe I’m getting away with this.’ And frankly I can’t believe it either. "I promise you have my word. You can trust me” He says.

Laying back down Astarion hovers over me as he pushes my hair to the side, pulls down the collar of my shirt in a less obvious place to hide whatever mark would come of this, and takes a bite at my shoulder. Hissing in pain I take a deep breath and my hand holds onto his bicep as he drinks from me. The pain melts after a minute but the lightheadedness that I’m used to now feels even more nauseating and I start to push on Astarions shoulder to get him to stop. He stops thankfully but his face doesn’t leave the crook of my neck just yet. I’m shaking and running colder than usual, my breath is faint and I lay my head firmly on the thin pillow underneath. “Your blood, it’s faint. Are you anemic?” I nod as I try to control my breathing. “I know it isn’t a lot, but I don’t think anyone else in our party would’ve let you drink from them.” I say softly as I close my eyes as tiredness finally creeps up on me. “And I’d rather it had been me you drank from than some poor stranger.” “You’re going to be in a long sleep after this, you have nothing to gain from what you just did.” He says as he finally pulls away and looks down on me. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. And you got stronger right? At least a little bit? Surely it’s enough to cover for me tomorrow.” I jest a bit as I continue to shake a bit and cover myself with a blanket.

“I won’t drink from you again, your blood is very watery.” “Thank you?” I say weakly as I hear Astarion sit himself down next to me. “It’s not a compliment. You need to do something about that.” “Believe me I know. However last I checked I’m not in my cozy apartment in Baldur's Gate, where all my medicine is. I hate feeling like this.” opening my eyes I look over at Astarion as he just simply looks into the fire in front of us keeping us warm. “Be honest, with me” Astarion starts while he keeps his gaze on the fire, “If you knew you had this condition, why did you let me drink from you?” I think again for a moment before I speak. “Because I know what it feels to be weak from blood, It’s a weird craving and I know it horrible, maybe not in the same way as you but I can make a good guess. I’ll be fine, I’ve like this before.” I can’t move much, my whole body aches and my breathe is shallow as I feel the need to stay awake, it’s not really a fear of death from the Astarion bite but just unease and general paranoia. “Did my blood even do anything for you?” I ask. “Some what, I just didn’t expect the weak taste.” I just let out a small chuckle. “Talking about my blood like one would talk about wine, funny.” “how long had you know about your condtion?” my breath evens out but I still shiver under the blanket as I think about the question. “About a few years now, I figured it wasn’t normal to feel faint everyday.” Astarion hums in understanding as he sits next to me. “I’m surprised you’re still next to me if I can be frank.” I say softly as I look up at Astarion. “Can’t let the others think I killed you in your sleep now can I.” he pauses for a moment before he continues, “I also feel like we’re kindred spirits now in way” “you’re very funny.”

After a moment of silence between us, Astarion speaks up “you ought to sleep, there will be plenty to do when day comes.” I just hum softly while I cover my eyes with my arm “I doubt I’ll be of much use. You guys are going to need to do whatever is needed in my place.” “how long do think you’ll be out?” He asks with some surface level concern. I know he only cares enough about me to make sure I get the tadpoles removed, to how I just became the leader of this strange group I do not know but can understand why Astarion would ask that. I would too if I was him. Sluggishly I pull my arm away from eyes and see Astarion look down at me with slight concern but the arch and furrow brow of his gives away that he really doesn’t want to be next to me. Maybe it’s out of pity or guilt, or perhaps he just want’s to go hunt to get his fill. “I don’t know, but I know I can’t do much of anything tomorrow, I’ll be fine in case you were worried.” I say softly as the sweet void of sleep came creeping up on me, however I felt just as scared as I did when I first woke up in the Nautiloid. I know I won’t die in my sleep. I know I won’t. But the paranoia doesn’t leave me. I need to stay awake.

Struggling to keep my eyes open Astarion brings his hand over my eyes to close them “Sleep. like I said, I don’t want the rest of the camp thinking I killed you.” “How kind, but you would have though, Had I not woken up.” I say absent mildly. Astarion doesn’t say anything for a minute, not a ‘I would never!’ or a ‘yes I would.’ which in a way is enough of answer to me. I didn’t like that I was right. I feel the fire dies down a bit and I hear him shift the logs and the warmth comes back. “You’re not dead though, so lets not dwell on that.” he says. Almost like a child saying ‘you should be happy that worse case scenario didn’t just happen so you can’t be mad’ the idea almost makes me laugh. “You can still drink from me, only when I’m well of course and you can’t find anything else. I want you at your best.” “Even with your condition and finding out my secret you’d still let me drink from you? You must really not care about your life.” Sleep feels closer as I drift off while trying to the words to say something in response. “I’ll take my chances, I’d rather die bloodless than become a squid. But I’ve also grown to trust you a bit, Despite everything.” “Questionable logic at best my dear.” he chuckles which in turn makes me smile a bit. “Well I’m not in the best state of mind. But I don’t think it will change.” I sigh. “Sleep, I won’t leave-” before Astarion could finish his sentence my mind fades and I do in fact, finally sleep.

@half-poison-and-half-hope Just for you

#mick says shit #astarion x reader #buldars gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #kinda angsty #astarion and tav

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frogofalltime · 10 months ago

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08.02.2024

today i missed my morning lecture because it was supposed to be 10-11am but my 8am alarm didn't go off and i woke up at almost 11 lol

i got up and looked out of my window and it was snowing !!!!! and it just continued to get heavier as i ate breakfast and got ready for class !!!!!!

i realised i was running slightly behind, normally i would've been fine but it takes a lot longer to walk in the snow, and i kept slipping and falling all the way to class, so i ended up being a bit late.

after the lecture me and @etherealspacejelly slid our way up the road, robin had to go to another class (sad times) and i went to the park to enjoy the snow.

i saw our pigeons shivering in the cold and the ducks were fighting with them to get some food. i ran around in the deep snow and got my shoes and trousers all wet.

then i slid down the hill to my friends' house. we played in the snow for a while but our hands got too cold and we went inside. i ate snacks and drank some hot water to warm up.

one of our friends chased us around the house with a horrible monkey stress toy that their siblings gave them for christmas and i genuinely thought it was going to explode and cover the house with flour but somehow it remained intact despite all the abuse it was being put through.

then we went to our last class of the day. it was a very boring lecture about bioinformatics that didn't seem to be very useful. i sat next to robin and we messed around drawing silly things on his notepad and laughing too much. luckily we were at the back of an enormous lecture hall so the professor did not notice our behaviour.

when that was finally over, my friend who was also in the same lecture met me to go to a place where you can build lego sets, and we walked through the snow to get there. i hadn't seen this friend since before christmas so it was fun to catch up and hear about how T gel is going for him (he said it's going well, and i noticed his voice is a lot lower, which is really awesome) !!

i was completely drenched with cold water by the time we arrived but it was nice and cosy indoors and i built a lego shark. i also made a small hammerhead shark using leftover pieces, i didn't use instructions for it so i'm actually pretty impressed with how it turned out :D

i took my antidepressant meds and immediately started feeling weird. i've been getting a lot of tension headaches in the evenings since i started the adhd meds, even though i stopped taking them, idk why my antidepressants are affecting me like this, but my hypothesis is that they stopped working properly because of the interaction with the stimulants and now they are starting to work again which is causing my body to have to readjust ??

then we walked home and got soaked again. it was raining now so the snow was all melting and my feet were so so so cold. when i got back to my student accommodation i built a tiny snowman which made my fingers numb, collected my laundry that i had forgotten about in the dryer for 24 hours, and took a hot shower to warm myself up.

finally i ate dinner. my appetite is immense lately; i had twice as much as i normally eat and i didn't even feel uncomfortably full. i guess it's because i didn't eat properly last week so my body is making up for it.

i finished my reread of percy jackson and the lightning thief and wasted time on my phone for a while. then robin encouraged me to wash my dishes and i finally went to bed just before midnight.

it took me a while to get to sleep because of the tension headache which was making my eyes hurt. i hope this goes away soon. also it was very cold and the dripping noises from the snow melting outside were driving me insane. but other than that i had a really good day and i'm very happy !!!

#binya of the day

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scuttling · 3 years ago

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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imaginativeamateur · 3 years ago

Note

HEY!!!! I read your kakashi x reader in which kakshi takes care of tired reader and it was *chef’s kiss* so i was thinking if you could a kakashi x reader in which the reader gets poisoned during a mission. They get a small scratch so it does not work quickly. So when they get home, they start to feel a bit dizzy and then start coughing up blood LOTS of blood ( if you don’t mind). So kakashi gets worried and takes them to the hospital. When they get there tsunade tells them it is a rare type of poison so they will need a day or two to make the antidote. So the reader is in pain and coughing up blood. Kakashi tries their best to comfort them. Sorry it is long. Feel free to ignore it. Sorry for bad english. THANK YOU ✨

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Unbearable

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Firstly, I'm glad that you like that piece, anon:D and your idea is fantastic!!! Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I usually write for, probably around 2,000 words. It's a mix of angst and fluff, the ending is fluffy though. And I didn't know what to name this one either:D Without further ado, please enjoy!

You pushed the door open, exclaiming happily when you finally got to sniff the familiar scent of his signature dishes, “I’m home, Kakashi!”

“How was your mission, love?” Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, he lifted his eyes from the pan to quickly examine if you had any injuries.

“Absolutely successful! We captured and brought the rebels back for investigation. My captain will be reporting it to the Hokage so I’m off for now!” You made your way next to him in the kitchen, pulling off your gloves in the process, “What are you making?”

Kakashi went off talking about the dishes he was preparing for your dinner but your mind turned fuzzy in the middle of his sentence. You lost your balance and tumbled backward as your sight blurred, not able to see anything clearly. With his quick reflex, the Copy Ninja caught you by your forearm and guided you to the floor, constantly asking if you were okay. Kakashi’s visible eye widened, brows furrowing as his hands roamed to search for any injuries that his eyes did not catch. You had no fatal wounds except for several scratches here and there, and he could sense your depleted chakra level. Lifting your body up in his arms, he whispered as he carried you to your shared bedroom, “You probably overused your chakra again. You should be back to normal tomorrow after a good rest.”

You sprawled tiredly in your bed, having no appetite for a meal and Kakashi respected it, he knew when it came to reviving a Ninja’s chakra, nothing would be able to beat some decent sleep. He let you stay by yourself for a few hours and went to finish his reports, returning to check on you once in a while. When he was finally done with work, Kakashi quietly slipped under the blanket on his side of the bed, carefully scooted closer to your warmth, hugged you close, and peacefully closed his eyes. In the middle of the night, you were woken up by the burning sensation that coursed through your entire body and a terrible headache, having just enough time to flip onto your side in case you would vomit right then and there. And you suddenly coughed, your throat was torn when the crimson liquid spattered onto the white tiles, bled your shirt, and dripped down from your chin. Being a light sleeper, the silver-haired immediately shot up from his pillow, switched the lights on, and scrambled down to the ground. You were trembling for the time being, and within a split second, Kakashi scooped your motionless body in his arms, rushing for the hospital.

He knew for sure that you were poisoned given the symptoms that were starting to surface. The hospital workers were greatly intimidated by the threatening aura that he sent, still hugging you tight as he brought you to the operation room himself. You continued to cough in his arms, and he did not mind his turtleneck being covered entirely by your blood. Tsunade arrived with a hurried disposition, and Sakura followed close behind her lead. Kakashi immediately reported your condition to the Fifth Hokage, grimacing when he saw blood pooling on the hospital bed as the Medic’s chakra slowly entered your body. He fought to retain himself—to not sprint to your side and cradle you tight, to not bring his hand up and wipe the blood staining the corner of your lips. It was all too much to him to see you panting in agony—

“Sakura,” the blonde Medic commanded, “set up for poison extraction. Get three more people.”

The pink-haired left the room after her teacher’s assignment, fleeting on her feet when she saw your tightly shut eyes and Kakashi’s scary expression as though he was going to burn the place down. Tsunade turned to the Copy Ninja, who was leaning against the wall with a visible eye that settled a tone darker, and called, “Kakashi, I need you to hold Y/N down when I extract the poison.”

He shuddered, unsure if he would still be able to maintain the last bit of composure left. The silver-haired found it impossible to remain himself when came to your safety, but he padded to your side, shaking hands reaching out to the pale face of yours. The Godaime assured him that everything would be okay and the man took a deep breath, moving his palms to rest on both of your shoulders as the rest of the team arrived, getting to work the second they passed the door. Kakashi held onto your upper body and arms, pinning you down onto the bed when the blonde started to focus chakra on her hands. “It’ll hurt, make sure Y/N stays still,” she said before the glowing green entered your body.

Kakashi could feel his sweats running cold against his temple, his uncovered eye fixed on Tsunade's hands, periodically glancing back at your face to make sure that you were fine. His grip on your wrists was tight but not bruising, fearing that it would add to the pain that you were already enduring from the poison. The Copy Ninja had his other forearm across your shoulder blades, pressing your torso in place as the Medic worked diligently. It hurt and you yelped, shrieking from the pure pain every time her chakra seeped inside. Kakashi was restless, biting on his own lips to halt himself from releasing his grasp and hug you tight. Your eyes turned dull when Tsunade finally got the last bit of poison out of your system, heavily placing your head back onto the damp pillow as the silver-haired wiped the sweats on your forehead. When all of you thought it was over, things took a different turn—for worse.

Pain suddenly shot through your body, and you started to cough more vigorously than earlier, blood covered the white sheets of the hospital bed. The whole room turned their attention back on your figure, your eyelashes fluttered, wincing when you felt the tiniest bits of your muscles being squeezed and ripped apart. Kakashi stepped back when he looked at his hands smeared by your blood, and grimaced, “… Didn’t you get the poison out already?”

The Medic furrowed her brows, examining the extract she got in a test tube, “It’s my first time seeing this type.”

Kakashi went feral, “How long?”

The sounds of your coughs filled the quiet atmosphere of the operation room. Every ticking of the clock seemed too audibly loud each passing second the blonde observed the Copy Ninja’s face. She eventually sighed and turned to the exit, “I’m not sure. It will take a while for us to create the antidote.”

“You can’t leave Y/N suffering like this, Lady Tsunade,” he breathed out laboriously, “I can’t.”

Kakashi’s words left his lips like a desperate plea as he stared at the ground. Tsunade shut her eyes to summon enough vigor to walk out of the room. Sakura hesitantly left shortly after, silently closing the door after sending her former sensei a sympathetic look. With shaking legs that were almost unable to hold him up, the silver-haired made his way to a chair beside your bed, tracing his thumb across your lips to wipe the bloodstain away. As a Shinobi, he was too accustomed to seeing open wounds and deep gashes—too familiar with his body covered in blood after a mission, especially when he got injured. But seeing you in this state made him crumble in dejection and turmoil.

“Kakashi,” your inaudible whisper pulled him out of his deep thoughts, “what if I…”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, Kakashi hushed you with a sign as he pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t say anything, love. I’m not going to let you…” And he trailed off, finding it hardly possible to continue what he was saying. You were still in pain, forehead scrunched up to restrain the groans from eliciting, tight fists hidden under the cover because you did not want him to be more distressed than he already was. Kakashi slouched his back, head dropping into his palms, cursing under his breath, “I should’ve come with you, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gotten you to the hospital sooner. I-I’m sorry, Y/N… Please, please just be okay.”

His words fell apart, slipping past his lips muffled and croaked. It had been a long while since he last felt the wet droplets tittering on the edge of his lash line—range and misery boiled in his veins as he swore to himself this would be the last time he would see you like this for as long as he was alive. He did not dare to look at you, not when he had to helplessly witness his dearest person suffering. Your breathing decelerated, the sweats beading your hairline and neck had long evaporated, and you fell asleep between his soft whispers, exhausted and drained.

Every hour passed with dread for everyone. Each time Tsunade came back to check on you set up a thin wall of hope but it all shattered shortly when she shook her head and withdrew out of the room. You were coughing less, but that did not ease the Copy Ninja because you were shriveling impossibly lifeless. You could not swallow whatever food they supplied, only able to intake water and intravenous fluid. It was after lunch when Tsunade knocked on the door—two days since you were brought to the hospital, one day since you went unconscious—and Kakashi went to slide it open for her. No longer displayed a hopeful expression, he could not bear the disappointment and emptiness from the Medic’s shake of her head. But this time, Tsunade came with good news.

“We found the antidote.”

A single sentence from the blonde levitated the somber atmosphere that was clouding Kakashi’s mind. A contented smile found its way across his lips—though covered by the mask, Tsunade could clearly see his pupil dilating and the furrow between his brows starting to slowly vanish. With a quick move, she injected the solution into your arm with Kakashi watching closely, not letting any details went unnoticed.

“The fever should be gone after lunch, I’m not quite sure when Y/N will wake up though. That depends on an individual’s ability to recover.” She stated, “You two take care.”

The silver-haired thanked the Godaime and shut the door after she had left for several seconds. Then, he went back for a quick shower—the last thing he wanted was you worrying for his enervated appearance after two days without rest—not forgetting to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving. When he returned, Kakashi brought a basket of fresh fruits with him, carefully peeling oranges and placing them on a plate for you in advance. He even went as far as bringing your pillow because you would be staying for another few days, and he wanted to make you feel comfortable. After checking over everything, he leaned his head back and closed his eye, stealing a quick nap with your hand in his—so he would know when you wake up.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you quickly scanned the room, and your gaze settled on the very Hatake sleeping peacefully, then to his fingers intertwining yours. You let out a soft breath, “Thank you, Kakashi.”

------------------

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

#kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi imagines #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi angst

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lady-z-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Plaything

Heisenberg x fem!reader fic below the cut:

Summary: Reader works for BSAA and is scoping out the village until you get captured by none other than Heisenberg who doesn’t take well to trespassers. Once he learns of your hatred for your job, he wants the information you have and he doesn’t have to try hard to get it. You find yourself drinking, fireside, with him and can’t help but let him touch you. Angie said he’d needed a plaything and, well, you’re it.

TW: smut

Tears prickle in your eyes as you continue climbing the snow-covered hill. Your black boots crunching on the snow and the whistling of wind have been the only sounds in your ears for the last hour or so. Your teammates stumble behind you – silent – as you’re taught to be. You aren’t exactly sure what lies beyond these woods, but the feeling in your gut after talking to those villagers made you nauseous.

There’s a bridge just ahead and you glance over your shoulder at the two teammates before stepping foot on the brick. Your long black cloak whips around your knees as the wind picks up over the clearing. This armor was not made for winter weather.

It’s almost too late to pull out your gun when the three of you get knocked down by metal pieces whirling by. Your reaction time is good, taking cover just as one of your teammates gets sliced across the jugular. Bullets firing at something just beyond the bridge, you aim and fire as well at something you can only describe as a zombie. It takes the two of you to bring it down and once you do, you scurry to reload your assault rifle.

Now that things seem clear, your teammate stumbles to the body to inspect the damage. Fear still has its grips on you and you find it hard to speak, but you want to shout out to take cover. Did that thing bring those metal pieces? Were they alone?

You don’t have time for another thought before more metal objects shoot toward you both, making tears appear in your cloak. Something gets you across the cheek and you cry out as another object gets lodged in your thigh. Pulling it out, you toss it down and aim your rifle toward the bridge again.

Another one of those things has your teammate against the snow, ripping into him like a starved creature. As you turn back, your gun is torn from your hands by a sudden force. Metal comes flying passed you, hitting you upside the head and knocking you to the ground. You groan at the pain, but try to stand or shift away from your attacker.

A man in a hat and a long coat slowly approaches while wielding a large hammer. The metal seems to circle around him as he tosses away your gun.

“And what do we have here?”

“Please…stop…” you cough out, the cold air stinging your lungs from all your gasping.

This must be one of the Lords the villagers spoke of – Heisenberg, was it? Your team had been heading toward the factory. You didn’t have time to think of much more before he stands above you, inspecting you.

“Wrong place for a walk,” he hums. “Last of your kind?” he looks around at the two others lying dead in the snow. “Three of you? Hardly seems right.”

Tears stream down your face, anger at the BSAA for even making you come on this mission.

“I’ll tell you anything,” you gasp out. “Please. Please…” you’re blubbering and you know it, but the fear is real and burning in your chest. “I didn’t even want to do this.”

A clanging of metal beside you causes you to look back up at him. There’s a monster to his left that growls at you but he shoves it back.

“Is that so?” he squints at you from under his sunglasses. The moment lasts too long. You know he’s about to kill you too. “Alright then.”

A swipe of his hand and a gear kicks up to knock you upside the head and everything goes black.

•••

When you come-to, you’re being carried, slung over his shoulder like you’re weightless. You shift slightly, groaning.

“Quit moving, you’ll reopen your wounds. Don’t want you bleeding all over me.”

You can’t tell if you’re having a nightmare or if this is real but the snowy landscape is no longer hurting your eyes. Instead, you’re being carried through a dark threshold, brick and arches and high windows: a church.

Right when you’re getting used to the sway of things as he walks, you’re tossed down harshly onto cobblestone. Well, that’s a bruise. But you’re alive. For now.

There are a million questions on your lips but they all halt when you see the scene before you: a small doll-like creature prances in front of you, hopping over a few more of your dead teammates. The doll scurries over to a tall black figure with her face covered, passing by an oversized woman with a large hat and a sleek black cigarette holder in hand. The man from before flops down in a pew and leans back, ignoring the groaning from behind him as a hunchback monstrous creature lurks in the shadows. Standing before the windows is an almost angelic figure with a dark cloak and a headdress, looking poised and bored.

You cower away from the death around you, biting your tongue as your headache pounds. Ryan and Erin, two colleagues that went toward the flooded fishing village, are oozing blood and a pus-like green goo. You want to throw up, but you scoot backwards as far as possible, trying to keep your back to the wall.

More metal pieces come flying around you; scoot you back toward the group, shove you from behind until you’re standing on shaking, bleeding legs.

“This is all that’s left?” the voice comes from the angelic figure and you cautiously look beside you to note that there are, in fact, four survivors – mostly from the group who went to the castle.

“Yes, Mother. May I suggest you give them all to me? Our last batch of survivors went to Moreau and my daughters are quite…eager…for visitors.”

These must be the ones the villagers spoke of.

“Your appetite amazes me, oh supersized one,” the one with the hammer speaks up; Lord Heisenberg, you’re still assuming. “By all means, take the measly men. But this one comes with me.” He points at you. “I found her just outside of my factory. And I don’t take well to uninvited guests.”

“He wants a plaything,” the doll chants in a singsong voice.

“Shut the fuck up, Angie,” he snaps, losing his cool. “Look, enjoy your mandick; play chase around the castle – whatever. She was on my property.”

Your stomach flips at the look he shoots you. There’s a sinister smile but you find comfort in the fact that he didn’t kill you before. Maybe…-

“Done. Take your prizes and go,” the angelic one waves off.

When the tall one stands, your stomach drops as you look up at her. Long blades grow from her nails and she shoves them through the wrists of your colleagues, like skewers. As she passes, she bends toward you, cuts the top of your hand. You’re in shock when she presses her mouth to your wound, lapping up the blood.

“Move it along, you big-hatted, mouth-breathing bitch.”

“Heisenberg, you petulant child!” her claws come to swipe down at who is now confirmed as Heisenberg, but he raises his hammer above him to block.

“Be gone!” the angelic one shouts at them.

Heisenberg grabs your wrist and hauls you forward, onto a giant plate of metal. His powers link metal around your wrists like handcuffs before he knocks you unconscious again.

•••

Your body is throbbing by the time you wake. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you glance around in the dim lighting. A bed is shoved in one corner, but the room is pretty bare. One wall is a large row of tool benches with metal scraps and tools strewn about. Heisenberg sits on a rolling stool, tinkering with something.

You exhale shakily, sitting up and noting the cuffs still in place – your fingers going numb.

“Ah, finally came-to, hm?” he spins to face you. “I was about to douse you with water.” He stands, towers over you, pulls you to your feet by the handcuffs. “Come, let’s talk.” He motions to the chair. You sit, shaky. “Heisenberg,” he tips his hat. “And you are…?”

“Y/n.”

“What are you, y/n?”

“I-I work for BSAA,” you glance over at the files on his desk, wondering how much he knows. He doesn’t stop you so you assume he’s at least privy to that. “My team was on a mission here to get information on this village…and, well, you.”

“Flattered,” he hums. “I’ll cut to the chase: there’s a reason you’re still alive. You have information. You could be useful…what did you mean when you said you didn’t want to do this?”

You gulp as he circles you. “I…was on a mission before and stumbled across some information that they want to keep quiet. I tried to quit, but they won’t let me leave.” You don’t know why you’re telling him all this. You wonder if maybe it’ll help you stay alive. Maybe he’s telling the truth.

“You said you’d tell me. Well, kitten, spill…” the powerful way he’s standing over you is intimidating but also slightly attractive and you’re kicking yourself for thinking that of your captor.

“BSAA is using bioweapons and plan to investigate the mold in this location to further advance the bioweapons program.”

He pauses. “That’s quite the mouthful.”

You laugh, despite the situation. “It’s quite the burden.” He tilts his head slightly.

“Do you know of Mother Miranda?”

You shake your head. “Just what the villagers told me. They seem…devout.” You search for the right word.

Heisenberg rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ mindless idiots is what they are…”

After a pause, you finally find the guts to say, “I gave you information…will you uncuff me?” you add a, “please” for good measure.

“You’re not thinking of attacking me, are you?”

“And risk a gear to the throat? No, thanks.”

This elicits a laugh from him. He snaps the cuffs right off.

“I like you.”

Rubbing your wrists, you glance up at him while he glares down at you.

“Back there, at the church…thank you for taking me back here. Sounds like I would have been a meal if I would have gone with my colleagues.”

He huffs. “She’d eat you up.” The comment is dripping with innuendo and the cheeky smirk he shoots you makes your stomach flip. There’s something alluring about this guy. Maybe you hit your head too many times today. “But you’re welcome.” The moment hangs in the air and he’s clearly uncomfortable with it so he saunters off out of the room. “You drink?” he calls.

“Poison, no. Alcohol? I could.” He clearly likes the quips because another laugh comes from him.

“All I got’s whiskey,” he returns with a chipped-up coffee mug and a liquor bottle. You hold the mug as he pours and you can’t help but shake – from fear or cold…

He notices. “Got you all cut up,” he finally acknowledges the tattered clothing, the dried blood on your wounds. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

Your mind goes tons of places, but never did you imagine him leading you through dark rooms to reach an outdoor balcony where an almost makeshift firepit sits. You’re guided to a bench and he hands you the liquor bottle so he can get the fire started.

The stars out here are stunning; it’s unlike anything you’ve seen. The cool breeze chills you through, making you hold your torn cloak tighter. When the fire lights and the whoosh of warmth meets your face, you almost moan.

Out here, in the silence, under the stars – you could sleep…

“She took me,” Heisenberg startles you from your mental break. You hand over the whiskey as he approaches. “Mother Miranda isn’t really my mother.” He takes off his sunglasses, rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

You sit quietly and listen to his tale of woe; moved by how troubling it is. By the time you’re halfway through your coffee mug of whiskey, he’s pouring you some more.

“Do you remember your family? Your real family?”

“I do…I do have memories,” he nods. “Everything else was destroyed – except this factory.”

“Did Miranda have something to do with that?”

He blinks at you, keeps drinking from the bottle. You know your answer.

You’re getting the tingling feeling in your fingers and the heat from the fire has made you remove your cloak; leaving you in just your fitted top and ripped pants. Heisenberg’s eyes trail over your skin, his tongue glides across his lower lip momentarily.

“Why did you really bring me here?” you find yourself asking, leaning closer to him.

“If you’re cold, I can take you inside…” he ignores you, but you keep up your intense stare.

“Were they right? Did you want a plaything?” maybe it’s the drink but you feel emboldened to overstep.

His mouth opens then shuts and then he’s grinding his teeth.

“You have no idea…” the growl that leaves his throat sends chills through you.

He practically spills the whiskey with how quickly he lunges at you, mouth connecting with yours in a heated kiss. When you’d first met, you’d assumed his advances would kill you. Now, you’re thinking something else completely.

Your hands grip at his jacket, pull him closer until he’s seated beside you and then you’re in his lap. He tastes like whiskey and smoke. He’s tense beneath you, almost holding his breath.

His hands rip at your clothes and before you know it, you’re topless in his lap. His eyes hungrily take you in before you feel his facial hair against your soft skin as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. His fingers massage the other nipple and you feel teeth gently on you.

He’s hard already and you shamelessly grind against him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure you’re feeling as well. The air feels colder when his mouth pops off you.

“I needed a distraction,” you hum as his lips trail to your neck.

“Pants off. Now,” he mutters.

“You just like to bend ‘em right over, huh?” you laugh. “Okay, Jesus…” but his hands are already fumbling with your snap and zip until he gets frustrated and just rips them off. The need he has is alluring.

He picks you up, turns, slams you down, and gets on his knees before you. You’re stripped completely naked for him, clothes discarded and forgotten as he hums at the sight of you on this cold night. The fire and the feeling of his hands on you keeps you warm enough.

“Pretty,” he moans. “So fuckin’ pretty…”

In the flickering firelight, you catch the tent of his pants. His hands spread your legs then he shifts your knees over his shoulders as he leans between your thighs. Open-mouthed kisses leave you moaning, covering your mouth.

“No,” he mutters. “Let me hear you.”

It’s only when you’ve proven that you will make noise that he lets his mouth trail to your pussy. A flat tongue glides over your folds and you moan loudly, head thrown back as he flicks your clit with a pointed tongue. He’s lapping at you and eating you out like a man starved.

“Ungh…Heisenberg,” you begin to whisper.

“-Karl,” he corrects before he inserts a finger into your dripping pussy.

You’re practically screaming his name when he finds your g-spot that quickly. The pace he’s finger-fucking you at mixed with the potentially public location and the talented tongue, you’re on the edge of something spectacular.

“M’close,” you whisper out, feet digging into his back.

Karl moans. “Come for me, y/n. And then I want you to come on my cock.”

Those words send you barreling toward your orgasm. Your fingers grip his hair as you grind toward his face.

“Ah, fuck…” you cry out.

“Good girl,” he coos, suckling a mark on your inner thigh. You’re ushering him up, yanking at his coat, pulling him into you. Your lips meet as you fumble with his belt and his pants. He helps you, both of your breathing erratic. “So eager,” he chuckles between kisses.

“Want to feel you,” you hum. “Please, Karl?”

“Mmmm, I like you begging.” His pants fall and he lays you down on the bench. “Be a good girl and take my cock.”

He trails the tip along your wetness, teasing you, before he sheaths himself inside. Your back arches off the bench and you let out a whine from the way he’s stretching you.

“Fuck, so big…” you moan, reaching to pull him down.

He shifts your left leg over his shoulder and pounds into you the best he can on this bench. It’s harsh and the bench is digging into your back in an uncomfortable way, but you’re enjoying this.

You’re meeting him thrust-for-thrust, hands tracing over his torso.

“Get undressed.”

He grunts, “Too cold.” You smack him on the arm and the way he glares at you… “You little brat,” he growls. “Do you want to get off again or should I stop holding back?” You shake your head. “Then get off.”

You nod against his chest as he shifts a hand to play with your clit. The pressure and new angle he’s hitting you at, you can’t help but cuss and grip at him. The feel of him bottoming out, of how surprising this pleasure was…you hadn’t expected this when you met him on that bridge. You’re rutting against him, pulling him down harsher until he pounds into you with such intensity.

There’s an echo of a scream that reverberates around you – it’s yours. The fire crackling is your only response until Karl chuckles against your neck.

You can feel your muscles tensing around his thick cock; an orgasm nearing once more. You’re kissing his neck and praising him; caught up in this moment under the stars. The consistent pressure against your g-spot; one more thrust and you’re a goner – moaning against his chest and kissing and biting – gone mad with the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…” he’s sloppy suddenly, bottoming out and hitting the same spot repeatedly until you feel him rutting harsher, spilling inside of you.

Your gasping sounds louder than the roaring fire and the two of you lay there uncomfortably; Karl not resting his whole weight on you, his forehead pressed against your chest as he huffs out.

The chill in the air stings against your completely naked body, worse now with the sweat.

“That was…unexpected,” you laugh.

“Maybe for you,” he shrugs.

You shiver as he gets off you. He removes his jacket to give it to you and you eagerly shove your arms in it, thankful for the warmth from his body heat.

“Can we go inside?” you shiver.

He meets your gaze. “Don’t think I’m finished with you.”

“Oh?” you tease. “I need some rest. This jackass attacked me earlier…”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me regret stopping that oversized bitch from taking you.”

“You said you needed a plaything…” you hum. “How long did you plan to keep me?”

Karl groans. “Get inside so you can ride my cock and then I’ll make my decision.”

You smirk at him, quite enjoying this newfound thing.

“Bring the whiskey.”

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader

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crimsonophelia · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request for a fluffy friends to lovers fic with Venti and a human gn reader? They’re good friends (but the reader doesn’t know his real identity) and when reader brings up their desire to see a wind wisp in real life Venti decides to surprise them by transforming into his true form and paying them a visit. The reader finds this mysterious little wind wisp at their doorstep and gets excited, takes care of it, and while feeding it apple slices starts talking about how their good friend Venti would love to see them - but oh, he’s less of a friend and more of a crush who I’ve loved for a long time… wait, where did the wisp go? Wait, Venti?! When did you get here?!

featuring: venti x gn!reader

warnings: none

published: june 30, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: thank you for sending this in—i need more venti requests, he’s my baby <3

you could tell that the drink was beginning to hit you hard when you felt your muscles go slack. it was your fourth pint of the night, and although you thought that you could hold your drink fairly well, you could never hold a candle to your bard friend’s seemingly bottomless appetite for wine. venti was on his seventh--or was it eighth?--mug of cider for the night, and was still fairly unfazed, if you consider his usual bumbling amiability to be his default. after a long day of working and whatever it was that venti did in the daytime, you two had decided to meet up at the angel’s share that evening for a drinking night between friends, and to catch up on life and whatever else goes on in the city of mondstadt.

the night had begun with a mug per person, as you and venti caught up with each other. due to your duties at home, and his rather inconstant job as a traveling musician, it was oftentimes difficult for you and the bard to stay in touch--responsibilities always seemed to get in the way. so, naturally, you took advantage of every opportunity you could get to see venti, one-on-one, and simply talk. after knowing him for quite a while, he really was a delight to talk to, always full of witty riddles and forever knowing the right thing to say at the right time. venti really was quite remarkable.

he also had the unique talent of contagious alcoholism; after having spent an hour or so drinking and chatting with him, you unwittingly started drinking more than your usual limit, absolutely carried away with whatever small conversation venti had you engaged with at the moment. the conversation had somehow strayed into the topic of myths and legends of mondstadt. venti was speaking of some strange conspiracies surrounding the origin of the anemo hypostasis up in the mountains, and as the alcohol began to break down your proper judgement, you began to go on and on about how you, as a child, dreamed of seeing an elusive wind wisp.

you had heard stories about the boy revolutionary, armed with his bow and his words, accompanied by a little white wind wisp, leading mondstadt’s journey to freedom. the story had enchanted you when you were young, and clearly you still had not given up hope of meeting a similar wind wisp. perhaps it would bring you the same joy and power to change your life for the better, just like it did for the hero of old mondstadt.

venti listened to your reminiscing closely, looking at you with a quizzical look of interest. your intoxicated state made it so that you didn’t notice the look on his face as if he was plotting something, but, to be fair, venti’s poker face was notable for its impregnability. the night ended with him having to walk you home, propping your arm over his shoulders so that you wouldn’t trip and fall on the cobblestone streets. the last thing you remembered was him tucking you into bed, and singing you one of his funny little songs.

the next morning, you woke with a pounding headache and the bright noon sun peeking through your shutters. archons, was it so late already? you pulled yourself out of bed, trying not to stumble, distracted by the pounding in your head. you had a long list of things to do today that you had to complete, and you severely regretted drinking so much and so late with that damned bard last night (though you could never really hate him--he was too adorable).

slipping on whatever clothing closest to your bed and sluggishly following through with your daily morning routine, you got ready to head out the door to water the carrots and potatoes in your backyard. as you pulled open the door, prepared to step out and face the piercing daylight, you caught yourself as you almost stepped on the little figure at your doorstep. lying there on its side, was a wind wisp. yes, just like the ones you had read about all your childhood and you had mused about endlessly last night. it had its little eyes shut, sleeping probably, its delicate little form curled up on the step.

you were bewildered, partially at the coincidence of it all, but mostly by the rarity of what had occurred before your eyes. a wind wisp, something most people never even saw once in their lifetimes, suddenly showing up right at your doorstep after you had talked about your desire to meet one just the night before. crouching down, you scooped up its little body in your hands. the little thing began to wake, hands rubbing its eyes sleepily, as it made a chirping noise. it was ridiculously adorable.

“hey there, little guy”, you cooed. “what are you doing here?”

as it began to regain consciousness, the wisp floated up off your hands, small gusts of air emitting from its form, and it flew up to nuzzle against your face. it felt like a warm breeze brushing against your cheek, and you heard it chirping in your ear.

you giggled. “well aren’t you the cutest little thing!” you raised your hand to pet it, and it made a little gurgling noise, leaning into your touch. something about its mannerisms felt so familiar, almost like something you had known in a past life perhaps, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. its presence was just endlessly comforting, even though you had only known it for a few minutes.

reaching into your pantry, you pulled out some apples you had picked the day before, and cut it into small slices. the wisp watched you eagerly as you went about your business, like it could understand everything you did. holding up a thin slice to the wisp, a little hole in its void of a face opened up and enveloped the slice whole. a little shocked but certainly entertained, you gave it an approving head pat.

as the day went on, the little wisp continued to follow you throughout mondstadt as you ran your errands. you went outside, behind your house, to take care of the crops you were growing. as you watered your plants, the little wisp helped you disperse the water more efficiently, blowing a gentle wind from your watering can so that you didn’t have to walk as far to water the faraway plants. you go to pick some apples and sunsettias nearby, and the little fellow would fly up to the hard-to-reach fruits and throw himself against them to knock them loose from the branches, right where you could catch them. you worried a little bit whether he was hurting himself by doing so, but he appeared to be pleased just to assist you, and he certainly was not ashamed to take a few bites from the fruits of your shared labor at the end of the day.

considering how efficiently your errands were completed today, of course all thanks to the helper you acquired that morning, you thought it would be nice to use the time you had in the late afternoon to take the wisp out for a picnic dinner at windrise to show your appreciation. gathering some of the fruit the both of you had collected, and some sandwiches you made, you placed it all in a little wicker basket and set off for the great tree with your companion upon your shoulder.

upon arriving, you laid down a gingham blanket in the shade of the great tree of windrise, just a moments away from the ancient statue of barbatos. you felt like a child again, remembering the summers of carefree exploration, tunneling through the thickets in the forest, or catching frogs by the creek, or tumbling down the hills by the sea. and now, a wisp joined you, taking you back to the memories of those years, when life was much simpler.

you couldn’t help but to think of venti, the bard, the friend, who had brought you such comfort through difficult times, whose music, like the warm touch of the wisp, reminded you of home and the beauty that life could bring. your companion was now feasting comedically fast on the food you had brought along, swallowing up fruits whole, and chewing for several moments before helping itself to another. you chuckled and gave it a pat. “greedy little fellow, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but to think venti would have loved to meet the wind wisp, considering his love for nature and all sorts of fauna, and considering the small resemblance between himself and the creature.

“stick around for a bit and i might introduce you to my friend, the bard”, you told it, not really caring that it probably couldn’t understand you. “im actually not sure that we are friends, to be honest. these days we rarely see each other but...” you trailed off, distracted by the sound of the breeze through the branches. the wisp stopped eating and watched you intently. “well”, you began. “i sometimes find myself wishing him and i were more than friends. maybe not lovers, not right away but... i just know that dearly. i cannot be sure that he feels the same, but that is of no matter.” you pat the wisp’s little head again. “if i can make him happy, even just as friends, that is enough for me.”

out of nowhere, a strong wind blew past you, knocking over your wicker basket and sending it flying several feet away. agitated, you scrambled up to chase after it, finally grasping it before it could fly too far. you were perplexed—where in the world could such a strong wind have come from? the sky was clear, and there were no clouds obstructing the setting sun. how odd, you thought to yourself.

you turned around to bring the basket back to your sitting spot, but to your surprise, the wisp was gone. no, in its place was now your bard friend, venti, sitting there on the blanket like he had been there all along. how in the world did he get here without you noticing, and where in the world did the wisp go off to? you hurried over to venti, questioning, “since when did you get here?”

the bard smirked, and fiddled with his lyre that you just noticed he had brought along with him. he had that look on his face again, the one he wore whenever he had some sort of plot in mind. “whatever do you mean, [y/n]?”, he replied amusedly. “i’ve been here all along.”

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #venti #venti x reader #venti headcanons #venti imagines #venti fanfic #venti x y/n #venti x you #fluff #venti fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Northern Exposure | Sam

❄ PART 2 OF THE MINI-SERIES ❄

Part 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); face riding/oral, violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: Special announcement later today and as usual, update are consistently inconsistent for my other series but I promise, I’m always working on something.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The three men, the heroes who were truly villains, kept you tied up as they tied a rope to an old rickety pallet and pulled you on it like a large sled. You shivered as the hills of snow left you dizzy and when you rolled off, you were thrown back on by Bucky who treated you like the spy he’d mistaken you for.

The second time you fell off, they didn’t notice right away. You managed to get your feet under you but before you could hop too far, the snow crunched and you were scooped up again. This time Bucky threatened to break your nose and Steve talked him down as Sam tried to coax you that all would be better if you didn’t try that again.

The sun rose and they continued on. The sky never paled more than a dim grey and the restless night gathered behind your forehead. A splitting headache fed by the biting cold. When the plains began to darken again and the moonlight rose to reflect off the snow, you stilled.

It took a moment to sight the bunker. The doorway was shoveled out and even if it were spring, the roof would look no more than a lump in the ground. You’d been up this way weeks ago, a snow fox and its kits had been skittering around. You groaned at the realisation of your mistake.

You were lifted by Sam and Steve grabbed your chin as you dragged towards the door. He looked you over and shared a look with Sam, “we need to warm her up,” your teeth chattered as if to reiterate his words, “we should’ve let her walk.”

“Just get inside,” Bucky scowled and stomped down the hidden stairs.

You nearly fell down as you hopped to the top step at Sam’s nudge. He caught you and descended at your side, your bodies flush in the tight space. The door opened and Bucky pushed the door in. Steve entered behind you and locked it as the lights flickered on and a generator began to whir.

As Sam guided you to a chair, Bucky elbowed past him and shoved you into the seat gruffly. He was jabbed by the other man and Steve snapped at both of them with his fingers. The blond opened a cupboard in the underground shelter and pulled out a vacuum sealed pouch.

“She should eat, it’ll warm her up,” he moved the kettle onto the gas burner, “and change her clothes. They’re wet from the snow.”

“I still don’t know why you had to bring her back--”

“Why’s it always shoot this and shoot that?” Sam scoffed, “I thought they got all that shit out of your head.”

“It’s our job,” Bucky snarled.

“Our job isn’t to kill civilians,” Steve shoved the pouch in the small microwave above the gas stove and turned.

“And when was it our job to babysit? Or whatever it is you two are planning,” Bucky crossed his arms.

Steve brushed past him and knelt to look you in the face, “Coffee or tea?”

“What?” you blinked and looked between him and the two other men, Sam watched you with a subtle grin as he unzipped his parka.

“We have some hot chocolate but it’s military issued and tastes awful,” he explained, “so?”

You frowned and met his gaze, “tea?” you answered weakly.

“Alright, and…” his hands went to the zip tie on your wrists, “if I untie you, you won’t try anything, okay?”

“Is that really a question?” you asked.

He pursed his lips and tilted his head, “fair enough but it’s your choice.”

You considered and poked your tongue against your teeth, “you can untie me.”

Steve grabbed the plastic tie and snapped it easily. He did the same to the one around your ankles and handed them to Bucky as he stood. He went back to the kitchenette as the microwave beeped. Sam came closer and rested his hand on the chair.

“You want me to get her changed, I got something she can borrow,” he said as he slipped his hand onto your shoulder. You flinched and he squeezed as Bucky tossed the ties and rolled his eyes.

“Get her clothes, I’m sure she can manage to get them on herself,” Steve felt the kettle but didn’t seem to feel the heat as you heard the water begin to roil.

Sam sighed but backed up. He disappeared into another room and Bucky hung his jacket with the others. He dropped down onto the bench by the door and unlaced his boots gruffly. He shook his head as he kicked them off.

“So, what’s your name, not Ursa?” Sam reappeared and plopped a pile of clothes in your lap.

You looked up at him and swallowed. He was so interested it made you want to vomit. His suggestion might have saved your life but it also promised you little more than imprisonment. You weren’t stupid and the way he hovered assured you of his intent. You gave him your name and stood cautiously.

“Where can I change?” you asked softly.

“Just in there,” Steve said when Sam didn’t answer and pointed to the same door.

You nodded and stepped around the other man. Bucky yawned loudly and kicked his feet out. You left them and closed the door. There were no windows and the only other door led to a closet.

You removed your hat, the gloves hastily shoved on above your restraints, your coat, and wet boots. Next you peeled off your jeans and the fleece leggings beneath. You kept looking up at the door as you pulled on the dry clothing; a loose tee, looser sweatpants, and large socks. The hoodie’s zip was broken and the sleeves were too long. Even so, it was warm.

You hesitated and only went to the door when a bang shook it, “your food’s ready,” Steve called through.

You opened the door and stepped out. He stayed close and you felt his heat as he held out a bowl of chunky stew and a steaming mug. You took it and he pointed you to the metal TV tray set up by the armchair. You sat and blew on the tea before you sipped. You didn’t know what else to do.

You ate quietly between Steve’s shy glances, Sam’s constant leer, and Bucky’s blatant indifference. You felt queasy but didn’t know what to do. You could run for the door and then what? Freeze to death on the tundra?

“You could… you could take me back still,” you said, “promise I won’t say anything.”

“We should just get rid of her,” Bucky huffed and finally looked at you, “this place is bad enough without--”

“Man, how about we get rid of you?” Sam puffed, “All you do is complain.”

“Look,” Steve pulled up a wooden chair from beside the matching table, “we can’t do that, it’s too risky.” He sat and gripped his knees, “It’s against protocol to just ignore security risks. It isn’t about you wanting or not wanting to say anything, it’s about what someone could make you say if they found you, just like Bucky here did.”

“They wouldn’t know--”

“The photos--”

“Burn them,” you said, “please, I didn’t do anything.”

“You sure this isn’t her, Wilson? You are a bit slow?” Bucky spat.

“Shut up, jackass,” Sam retorted, “hey, honey,” he came closer, “we don’t wanna hurt you.”

“And what you do want?” you stirred the bowl, “I don’t want that either.”

He arched a brow and smirked at Steve. Steve fidgeted and Bucky groaned.

“We’ll be nice,” Sam said.

“Cap,” you ignored him and watched Steve, “you’re a good guy, don’t do this. Up here, it’s hard, the isolation, I know, but you don’t want this. Maybe you should head back south and get your head on straight.”

Steve’s jaw squared as he considered you. He inhaled and his tongue peeked out between his lips. He looked at Sam and sighed. He shook his head.

“You can’t manipulate me,” he stood and moved the chair back, “Sam’s right, it won’t hurt. In fact, looks like you’ve been here long enough that we’re doing you a favour.”

“No--”

“Should we flip for it?” Sam asked, “who gets the first night since idiot’s a no go.”

Bucky sneered and stood. The other two watched him as he stormed past them and slammed the door behind him as he fled to the other room. Your last hope was gone. You thought even if he was mean, that Bucky might stop them and hopefully not just to tie loose ends up with a bullet.

“Heads,” Steve said as he kept his hand on the back of the wooden chair, his shoulders tense as he hung his head.

Sam fished around in his pockets then searched in his parka and finally found a coin in one of the drawers. He held it up and went to stand on the other side of the table. He flipped it and let fall between him and Steve on the wood. The latter sniffed and nodded dully.

“Let her finish eating first,” Steve said, “I’ll deal with Buck, he’s just… standoffish. You know how he can be. He’ll come around.”

“Even if he doesn’t, more for us,” Sam winked and Steve shoved himself away from the table.

You caught his eye as he headed for the bedroom door and when it closed behind him, your heart sank. You scooped up a mouthful of stew and slurped it up. The only man left strode around the room and sat on the low couch. He spread his legs wide and stretched his arms over the back, his gaze intent on you.

You ate slowly even though each bite made your stomach growl and built your appetite. You drank the tea carefully and relished the last dregs. He could hear how empty the glass was and when he stood, you sat back and drew your feet up onto the seat to hug your legs. He cleared the table and folded it.

He stalked around the room like an animal around its prey. You touched your cheeks and sunk down.

“Are you really going to do this?” you asked at last.

“I only want to treat you nice,” he said as he came closer, he reached out and tickled the back of your hand, “it was Bucky who hurt you, not me.”

“You could’ve left me--”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“But you don’t have to do this,” you argued.

“Why is it so bad? Aren’t you lonely? You have to be,” he slipped his fingers under your hand and drew your arm away from your legs, “all the way up here, alone.”

“That’s not--” you trembled and he tugged until you were out of the chair, “I don’t know you.”

“But you’ve heard of me? And Steve. Even Bucky,” he purred and put your hand on his chest. He wrapped his arm around you and swayed as if he was dancing with you. He took your other hand and twined his fingers through yours, “Come on, baby, I just want to make you feel good.”

You batted away the glossy tears with your lashes as you were trapped in his embrace, “why?”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead as he turned you, “because I gave Bucky your coordinates,” he backed you up slowly, “because I knew you weren’t her but knew I wanted you.”

“No…” you breathed as your legs met the low seat of the couch, “you were following me?”

“I just… stumbled upon you and…” his voice trailed off as he focused on your lips and his eyes turned smoky, “baby, you know you need it too.”

“No,” you gasped and pushed against him.

He crushed his lips into yours and leaned on you until you were forced back onto the couch. He angled you across it, his arm beneath you as he moved his hips slowly. You felt his excitement through his jeans as his breath stuttered in your mouth.

You turned your head away as his other hand skirted along the hem of the loose tee. He slid his fingers under the open hoodie and the cotton shirt. A shiver went up your spine as his hand crawled up your stomach.

“Please,” you whispered as you stared at the carpet.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, “am I hurting you?”

Your eyes were wet but you fluttered away the tears, “no,” you mumbled, “but…”

Your voice dissolved as he cupped your chest and ground his crotch against you harder. He grabbed your chin and turned your head back, his hot breath slipped through your lips before his tongue and he hummed. He kissed you hungrily and pulled his hand back to grab your shirt. He shoved it up your torso and his fingertips danced over your skin.

He parted from your lips and sat up. He tugged at the hoodie and lifted you. He pushed his legs around you and pushed the sleeves down your arms. He untangled you from the sweater and yanked on the tee until you raised your arms. He pulled that off too and flung it.

He drew you further into his lap and laid back on the couch. His fingers hooked under the elastic of the sweats and he pulled until you were forced to raise your pelvis. You shook as you got to your knees and looked down at him.

“You can stop…”

“I don’t want to,” he said and tugged, “up.’

You stood and your pants were ripped to your ankles as he kept hold of them. You lifted one foot then the other as he pulled off your socks and the sweats. They fell to the floor with the rest and he grasped your calves.

“Sit,” he patted the top of his chest with one hand.

You stared down at him and gulped. He slipped down on the couch and his eyes lingered between your legs. He squeezed the back of your leg.

“Sit,” he repeated darkly.

You bent and gripped the arm of the couch. You put a knee beside his head and then the other. He grabbed your hips and guided you down until you felt his breath on your cunt. You held yourself up and he pulled you down entirely.

“I bet you taste so good,” his voice was muffled as his breath tickled you, “I bet…”

His tongue made you wince and squeak. His fingertips poked at your hips as he gripped them tighter and he lapped at you from below. You tried to lift yourself but his hold on you was unbreakable. He purred and began to rock your pelvis over him. You felt your core react to him and you quivered as you let out a shattered moan.

He flicked his tongue more eagerly and your chest swelled as a lump rose in your throat. You held your breath as you tried to hide how he affected you. Your thighs tensed around his head and soon it was you moving your hips, not him.

Your mind was a haze as your voice flew out of you and you clung to the arm of the couch. You rode his face without thinking as the stunning sensation drove you on. He delighted in the taste of you and his hand ran up and he scratched down your back.

Your shallow pants turned to frantic mewls and you gritted your teeth as you came violently. You didn’t want it but you couldn’t fight. The months alone, the endless cold, the pure desolation, it all spilled over and burned deep inside of you. He didn’t stop until you were weak and your legs trembled and stilled.

He tilted his head back and licked his lips, “that’s it, baby, wasn’t that nice?”

You looked down at him as he watched from between your legs. You pushed off of him and his hands fell from your back. You climbed off of him and huddled on the far end of the couch as he sat up. He wiped his mouth and stood. You were humiliated at how easily he had you.

You hung your head and when you heard him come close again, he was naked. Your mouth fell open as his dick bobbed before him and you looked away shyly. He grabbed your elbow and pulled until you let him move you again. He led you down onto your stomach across the couch and dragged his fingers over your shoulders, down your back, and along the curve of your ass.

“All those layers, I knew there was something sweet hiding beneath,” he pushed apart your legs and felt your cunt.

He put his knee between yours then brought his other down as he climbed up behind you. He slid back and bent over you as he pushed his dick down between your legs. You tried to close them then tried to wriggle away. His hands settled on your hips and he leaned his weight on you entirely.

“Come on,” he lifted your ass slightly and rescinded a hand, he angled his tip along your cunt, “that’s it.”

He pushed into you, just an inch and you clawed the arm of the couch. You groaned as he sank deeper and pulled you back onto him. He spread his thighs over yours and placed his hands on the cushion around you. He eased out of you and slammed back in, the sound deafening in the underground room.

“Shit,” he moaned, “that’s good.”

You buried your face on the couch and crossed your arms over your head. He thrust again and you whined. He did it a third time and each tilt of his hips was followed by a pause as he basked in the feel of you.

His flesh clapped against yours and the sound made you both sick and excited. Your mind felt trapped in your body as he used you, fucking you faster as he felt your natural response. The wet noises fed his lust and soon the whole couch shook.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” he snarled as he pushed down between your shoulder blades with one hand and the other lifted your hip as he lifted himself on his knees, “take it.”

His hand snaked up under your neck and he gripped your chin and forced your head up. Your back curved as he pounded you mercilessly. Your eyes rolled back and your tongue threatened to loll out. You moaned and his motion turned fractured and frantic. He jerked into you harshly and jolted your body with each crash of his hips.

“Ah, baby, I’m cumming,” he rasped and quaked as he burst inside of you.

He slowed down and stopped entirely. He straddled you still and when his breath steadied, he wiggled his hips until you squirmed. He chuckled and rubbed your back. He gasped as he pulled out of you and the cum spilled down the crease of your leg. He groped your ass and kneaded it with a growl.

“Get up,” he ordered as he stroked his softening dick, “put your hands on the couch.”

You got up, barely, numb and shaking, and turned to bend and press your palms to the cushion. He caught your hips before your legs could collapse under you.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, baby,” he cooed, “don’t you feel so good?”

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x-reader-theater · 4 years ago

Text

A Shakespearean Soliloquy in Two Parts

Relationship: Asexua!Spemcer Reid x Asexual!Male!Reader

Summary: “Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” William Shakespeare, Julius Ceaser

Warnings: Scool shooting, asexual Spencer Reid and reader, implied autism.

Word Count: 7520 words

A/N: To be frank, I meant to post this at like, three pm. Also Asexual Spencer Reid owns my ass and I will only write him as such. Please enjoy. Edited by the outstanding, amazing, show stopping @mystic-writes . I love you please forgive me for forgetting.

"Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream" –A Midsummer Night's Dream

"Hey, Shelly," you say with a smile at the small book store you are currently checking out in. "Good to see you again."

"You as well! Only one book this week?" Shelly asks and you nod.

"Yeah. I have too much work to do, so I can't focus on more than one book," you say.

She scans your book and you pay quickly. She hands you the book back and says with a smile, "Enjoy your book!"

You nod and turn around quickly, taking a step, before colliding with someone. The books in their hands go crashing to the floor, and you do as well, crying out as you land suddenly on your tailbone, and stars flash before your eyes.

"I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have been that close and I wasn't paying attention, and I should have been looking where I was going and-" you hold up a hand to silence the man who was speaking a mile a minute in front of you.

"Really, it's okay. It was my fault," you say, wincing as you try and get up.

The man holds out a hand out and you take it. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He takes his hand back almost immediately once you're standing and you smile. "No, not really. Just bruised my tailbone," you say and the man sighs.

You lean down and pick up a couple of the books he was carrying, and when you go to the last book, his fingers brush yours. You look up and see your faces are inches from one another, and you feel your face heating up. You see him blush as well and you both pull your hands away. You stand up so he can grab the last book and you shove the books you're holding into his arms.

"Sorry again!" you say, not looking at him, and you leave because you can’t embarrass yourself any more.

It isn't until you're in your car that you realize you gave him your book as well.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love." –Hamlet

You walk into the Alley Cat Café, a new café that just opened a block from your flat that also offered an area where you could hang out with adoptable cats. You never went in there because you would just adopt all of them and you didn't have the time for that right now.

You walk into the café and the little bell above the door jingles to signal your arrival. You walk up to the counter and order your regular, the Calico Chai, and pay before finding a seat near the back close to the window where you could watch the cats. Your order is called, and as you get up, you look over to a table, and see a very familiar man reading a book at a remarkable speed.

You distractedly grab your tea and go back to your table, gathering up your things before plopping yourself next to the man.

"Hello again!" you exclaim and he jumps, looking up from his reading to glare at whoever interrupted him.

When he locks eyes with you, however, his eyes widen. "Oh! Hello!" he exclaims and a small smile forms on his lips.

"I think I may have given you my book on Tuesday," you say sheepishly, and his eyes widen even more and his mouth drops open adorably.

He turns and fishes around in his bag, before turning back to you and holding out a book in both hands. "I've been carrying it around with me hoping to give it back to you," he says, blushing, and you grin, taking the book from his hands, your fingers brushing his.

"Well, thank you," you say, grabbing the large book.

"So, the complete works of Shakespeare, huh?" the man asks and you nod.

"Yeah. I've never actually owned a copy before," you say. "I've only taken it out from the library or borrowed it from friends. I actually wanted to major in Shakespearean studies in college before ultimately deciding to go another way." The man nods, and silence falls over you for a moment before you say, "You know, I never got your name."

"Oh! Doctor Spencer Reid," he says with a wave.

You wave back and say, "Doctor [Y/N] [L/N]."

"What's your doctorate in?" he asks, excited.

You reply, "Biological Anthropology. I teach it at Georgetown."

"That's where I got my PHD in Chemistry," Spencer says and you grin.

"Really? When was that?" you ask.

"Thirteen years, two months, six days, and seventeen hours ago," he says and you blink owlishly.

You think for a moment before saying, "You must have been really young when you got that."

He nods. "I was seventeen. It was my second PHD. I have three. One in mathematics, one in chemistry, and one in engineering. I also have five BAs."

You stare at him for a moment, not saying anything, before you whisper, "That's really impressive." You feel your cheeks heat up. "I didn't get my PHD until I was nearly 25."

"I have an IQ of 187, and eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words a minute," he says and you smile.

"You're one of a kind, Spencer Reid," you say, holding your book to your chest. "That must have been a very lonely childhood though," you remark, and he looks away from you. He nods but doesn't say anything. "What do you do now?"

"I'm a profiler with the FBI in their behavioral analysis unit," he explains and you smile.

"Maybe I'll have you come in and lecture to one of my classes some time," you say and he smiles. "Though Biological Anthropology isn't very exciting to anyone but me…" you look away and scratch the back of your neck, but Spencer assuages your fears.

"Actually, I find it quite interesting. I read an article the other day about how work stress is actually de-evolving humans, causing their bones to actually lose density, causing them more physical pain and inability to do physical tasks, as well as loss of sleep, appetite, and more," he says, and you grin.

"But, the study was only on French individuals, and it could have different results based on where the study is done. Like, in Japan for example, there may be the same amount of stress but they handle it better because in their culture, work is just a part of life and you have to deal with stress. Or in America, where we have different ways of dealing with stress that may cloud the findings," you add, and he nods.

"That is true, though you'd have to factor that into the initial hypothesis and-"

Spencer is cut off by his phone ringing. He picks it up and the phone call ends quickly.

"I'm so sorry to have to do this, but I have to go to work. We have a case," he says and you nod in understanding.

"Of course. It was nice talking to you Spencer. I hope we can talk again some time!" you exclaim.

A small smile tugs at his lips and he says, "I do too, [Y/N]."

You stare at each other for a couple moments before he turns around and leaves the café. You sip your now cold tea and realize you didn't get Spencer's number.

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt." –Measure for Measure

You sit at the bar and nurse your glass of water as the music and lights cause a headache to split at your temples. You groan and massage your head, but it doesn't do anything to relieve the pain. You take another sip of your water, and look up to see a familiar face looking down at you.

"Co-workers bring you here too?" Spencer asks and you smile and nod.

"Yeah. It's Fiona's birthday today and she wanted to go to a club," you say, and Spencer sits down next to you. "I got dragged along. And apparently I got a splitting headache too."

"Do you want any help with that?" Spencer asks and you look at him, questioningly. "Turn around."

You do as he asks, slowly, and you feel his fingers lightly resting on your neck. You wince as he presses into your spine right where your head and neck meet, but after thirty seconds he releases, and your headache dissipates. You grin and turn around.

"How did you know to do that?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I had chronic migraines when I was younger, and I read a book on pressure points once," he explains and you nod in understanding.

"Right. You're a genius," you say with a forced smile and he frowns. You sigh. "You just…" you put a hand on his cheek, and he stiffens for a moment before relaxing into your touch. "You make me feel inferior. Like I'm just never going to do as well as you."

Spencer grabs your hand lightly and squeezes it, putting it away from your face as he looks into your eyes. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. You're a doctor working at one of the best schools in the country," he says and you smile. He returns it. "And, don't compare yourself to me. I can read 20,000 words a minute. I'm a freak. You're more normal than I am."

"Spencer Reid, don't you ever say that again!" you exclaim, taking his other hand in your own. "You are not a freak!" He goes to protest but you take one of your hands from his grip and put it over his lips. "Nope. No arguing. What I say is final."

You pull your hand away and you see he's smiling. "Yes, Doctor," he says, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You grin, before gasping. He looks alarmed as you say, "Oh! I forgot!" he places his hands on your arms. "You didn't give me your number in the café!"

He sighs in what looks to be relief, before reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet. "You want to see a magic trick?"

You nod and he grins an adorable smile that has you grinning as well. He holds up a business card, probably his business card, and moves his hands in front of his face, and when they cross back over, the card is gone.

"Oh come on! It's behind your hand! I know this trick," you say, and he raises an eyebrow.

He opens up his fingers and turns his hand around, showing it's nowhere to be seen. Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops slightly in awe.

"Hey, I think you have something in your hair… right there…" he says, pointing to your left ear, and you reach up before he can touch you.

You feel something, and when you pull it out in front of you, you see it's Spencer's business card.

You laugh and flip the card over, checking to see if it's real or not. But it very much is.

"Wow Spencer, that's amazing!" you exclaim and his cheeks flare red. You take out your phone and put his number in, calling it. He looks up at you and you place your phone to your ear. He picks up and you say with a smile, "There. Now you have my number too."

"This sounds very strange, can I hang up now?" Spencer says out loud, and it's repeated in your ear only moments after. You laugh and nod, and the two of you hang up your phones.

Almost immediately, his phone starts ringing again, and you put up your hands in innocence.

"JJ," he says into the receiver, pausing for a moment, before saying quickly, "I'll be right there." He hangs up his phone and places it in his pocket, before saying quickly. "Sorry, that was work. I really have to go."

You smile and nod. "You have a job to do. Go save some lives." He smiles and turns to leave, but you call out, "Spencer!" he turns around and you stand up, lean forward, and place a kiss on his cheek. "For good luck."

He grins and walks out of the club. You watch as a couple more people file out, and sit back in your seat and finish your water.

"Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change." –Romeo and Juliet

You're flipping through papers when you hear someone call out to you.

"[Y/N]!" they shout and looking up you see Spencer Reid walking down the hallway towards you, a messenger bag slung around his shoulder. He was wearing something similar to what he was wearing in the club only two nights ago.

"Case ended early?" you ask and he nods.

"Yeah. Child abduction. We had less than forty eight hours to get the child back alive since the family didn't report her missing until twenty four hours had passed," he says.

"And did you? Get the child back alive, I mean," you ask and he nods. You grin.

"Oh, good. So! What are you doing here? You didn't come just to see me, did you?"

Spencer blushes and you place a hand on his arm. "No, Doctor Priya Chopra wanted my help on an article she's going to write about fungal growth on skin and the potential benefits it could have, as well as any side effects it may cause," he says and you nod.

"Well, I can show you to her office! She's new so it wouldn't have updated on any maps yet," you say and Spencer nods.

He stops and you halt in front of him, turning as he says, "Oh! Do you want me to carry any of your papers?"

You smile and shake your head. "No, it's okay. I'll just have to walk back anyways. My office is in the other direction."

"Oh, I don't want you to have to go out of your way. I can probably find it on my own…" Spencer trails off, looking helplessly at the myriad of plain beige hallways.

You shake your head and bump your shoulder with his. "Really. It's not a big deal. I want to do this," you say with a smile. He smiles back and you lead him down a couple hallways, until you stop at a door with a nameplate that reads, 'Dr. Priya Chopra, PHD'.

"Well, this is your stop," you say, almost sad with a slight slump to your shoulders. "With that eidetic memory of yours, I don't think you need me to show you around anymore."

Spencer places a hand on the small of your back and points at the paperwork in your arms. "You look like you could use a little help. How about I come by after my talk with Doctor Chopra? I know where your office is," he says and you grin.

"I would love that, Spencer," you say, and watch him until he disappears behind Doctor Chopra's door.

"One may smile, and smile, and be a villain." –Hamlet

You hear a knock at your door and you look up from your work to see a familiar head pop out from behind the door. You grin and say, "Parker! It's good to see you again! Come in."

The young man with dark circles under his eyes slowly walks into your office, he wrings his hands out in front of him, and sits down in the chair across from yours. He slowly takes his backpack off and reaches in, pulling out a grey folder. The movements were slow and methodical, but you can see the young man's hands shaking slightly as he does so. Finally, he pulls out a stapled stack of papers and holds it out to you.

You take it carefully and frown, looking it over. It was one of his essays that you just gave back a couple days ago with a big red 'F' on the front.

"Why did you fail me?" Parker whispers and you sigh.

You lean back in your chair, folding your fingers on your stomach as you say, "Your essay is all over the place. There isn't a coherent theme or message in any of it. Also, you should really find someone to help edit your grammar at least. You have misspellings and incorrect comma usage all over the place, Parker." The man in question looks down away from you and you sigh again, this time louder and lean forward onto your desk. "How about this. Go to the writing center on campus, find someone to help plan out your essay, and if you do a good job, I'll bump up your score to at least a B, if not more if you do really well, okay?"

Parker looks up at you and gives you a toothy, forced smile, almost as if he doesn't smile much in his life, and says, "Thank you, Mr. [Y/N]."

You smile and nod, handing the paper back to him, and just as someone knocks at your door, he gets up.

Opening the door, Parker comes face to face with Doctor Gerard Holden, professor of microbiology at Georgetown, and the man looks shocked for a moment before steeling his expression and saying over Parker's shoulder, "Dr. [L/N], do you have a minute to talk?"

You smile and nod, before addressing Parker again. "Parker, I want to see that essay on my desk in a week and a half at the most. I hope to see some improvement."

Parker doesn't turn around but he nods and slides out of your office as quickly as he can without touching Dr. Holden. When Parker leaves, the older man walks into your office and closes the door behind him.

"That boy is very strange. I don't know how you put up with him. I've had to kick him out of class before for being disruptive and talking out of turn," he says and you sigh.

"He's a good kid and an even better student. I bet if you pushed him a little more, and actually called on him in class, he wouldn't interrupt so much," you say and the doctor in front of you is pale. "But, I hope you didn't come here to discuss our students."

The man shakes his head and goes into a lengthy question about having you guest lecture during one of his classes. You agree quickly and get the time and date and what you'll be covering before Dr. Holden opens the door to your office.

You see Parker standing on the other side of the door, and you know he heard everything you and Dr. Holden discussed about him.

"They do not love that do not show their love." –The two Gentlemen of Verona

It's a Saturday. You and Spencer are sitting in your apartment reading. Spencer's stack next to him is significantly smaller than yours, and whenever he finishes a book, he places it on your stack. Whenever you finish yours, you place your book on the ground and pick up whatever book Spencer just finished reading.

It's nice.

"If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die." –Twelfth Night

"Come on! I don't want us to miss this!" Spencer exclaims, grabbing your hand, and pulling you along as he runs through the small park.

"Wait! Spencer! I didn't know we were running! I would have brought my inhaler!" you exclaim as you try and keep pace.

Spencer doesn't stop though as he says, "It's not far, now come on!" The two of you continue to run through the trees, and eventually you come upon a clearing. There are a few couples there, but not actually as many as you would have expected. The thing that shocks you the most are the group of college age students all standing around with boxes in their hands.

"Spencer what-"

"Shh!"

You step closer to him, still holding his hand as the students all step up, and take the tops off the boxes. Light start flying out of the uncovered cardboard boxes and you realize that they're lightning bugs.

You gasp as a swarm flies towards you before dispersing into a hazy cloud of blinking yellow and green emanating from the lower abdomen. You reach out and the bugs fly away from your hand in streaks of light and you laugh. You turn, grinning at Spencer's face. He's looking right at you.

In the low glow, you can see Spencer's handsome features on display. His cheekbones are softer in the light, his auburn hair a deep brown and his hazel eyes reflecting spots of green back at you. You reach up and place a hand on his cheek. He looks beautiful.

"What is this?" you ask, breathless.

He smiles softly and you look down at his lips. They look inviting. "The biology majors at Howard under Professor Trudy study fireflies for a semester before releasing them here. Did you know that many fireflies do not produce light? Usually these species are diurnal, or day-flying, such as those in the genus Ellychnia. A few diurnal fireflies that inhabit primarily shadowy places, such as beneath tall plants or trees, are luminescent. One such genus is Lucidota. Non-bioluminescent fireflies use pheromones to signal mates. This is supported by the fact that some basal groups do not show bioluminescence and use chemical signaling, instead. Phosphaenus hemipterus has photic organs, yet is a diurnal firefly and displays large antennae and small eyes. These traits strongly suggest pheromones are used for sexual selection, while photic organs are used for warning signals."

You're silent for a minute before you say, "You said firefly."

Spencer frowns. "Huh?"

"You said firefly. People around here say 'Lightning bug,' which means you're not from around here. Where are you from?" you ask, and his frown subsides.

"Las Vegas," he says and you smile.

"You're a long way from home," you reply, looking around at the lightning bugs floating lazily around you, taking in their new environment. You look back at him and say, "I'm glad you're here Spencer. I'm glad I ran into you at the book shop. Literally," you say, laughing lightly.

"Me too," Spencer says with a small smile on his face.

You lean up and kiss him, quickly, before pulling back, not really giving him a chance to react. He stares at you, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, before leaning in and capturing his lips in yours again. You lean against him, turning so your front is pressed against his, he places his hands on your hips and you thread yours through his hair and rest them on the back of his neck.

When you pull away, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, but you're so lost in Spencer's eyes you hardly notice.

"I am not bound to please thee with my answers." –The Merchant of Venice

You jump as someone hits their bowl a little too hard with their spoon, causing a loud crashing noise it seems like only you can hear. You can feel your heart rate picking up as another person accidentally drops a glass on the floor, shattering it. Your eyes dart around as people talk loudly over one another, shouting to be heard over the low din of the restaurant.

"[Y/N]!"

You look up at Spencer sharply, your eyes going wide.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching a hand out. You nod but don't take his hand, instead picking at your nails underneath the table. "I was just talking about the underlying effects of corsetry in the modern era…" Spencer continues as if nothing is wrong but another loud crash causes you to jump and lose focus from him again.

You hear Spencer sigh and you look up at him, your cheeks flaming up. "Sorry…" you mutter.

"What's wrong?" he asks plainly.

"I-" you begin to say, but flinch as someone laughs loudly at a table nearby you. "I don't really like restaurants. They're too… loud."

Spencer looks at you with that blank stare for a moment before sighing in what you hope is of relief. "Same here. A co-worker of mine suggested I take you out to dinner and when I told him I don't like restaurants either, he just said you would," Spencer explains.

You frown. "Who did he think I was? We read books in your apartment all the time!"

Spencer looks away sheepishly and pulls his hands into his lap. "I haven't used pronouns for you, so he assumed you were a woman."

You snort. "Wouldn't be the first time." Spencer frowns at you. "I've dated a lot of bisexual men with straight colleagues. The co-workers always assume I'm a woman."

Spencer nods, and the two of you are silent once again in the loud restaurant. You flinch once more as something crashes together, and Spencer sighs.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asks, almost begging.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yes. Please. We can go back to mine?" Your eyes widen at that. "Not for sex!" you exclaim and a few people look over at you. You blush in embarrassment and say, quieter, "I-I just meant to read or watch a documentary or something. I didn't mean to imply."

Spencer smiles softly. "It's okay. I didn't even realize. I'm not sexually attracted to people."

Your eyes widen and you grin. "Me neither!"

Spencer grins with you and the two of you hastily pay and make a quick exit out of the busy restaurant.

"God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another." –Hamlet

"Mr. [L/N]?"

You jump and look up from your work and see Parker standing in your office. You put a hand over your heart and laugh. "Parker! You scared me!"

"Sorry…" he says, not making eye contact.

You chuckle as you say, "I should put a bell on you…" you see Parker flush a deep red but you ignore it. "So, what can I do you for?"

Silently, still red and blushing, Parker pulls out a stapled stack of papers from his backpack and holds it out to you. You take it and see it's the revised version of his essay you failed last week.

"I did want you asked…" he says quietly and you quickly look over the first page.

You smile up at him, grateful. "Thank you, Parker. I'll get it back to you by the end of the week-"

"NO!" he shouts and you jump at that.

"Parker, I have a lot of work to do and-"

But he cuts you off again, shouting, "No! Get it done now!"

You sigh, knowing he's not going to relent, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. "Okay. How about this. How many classes do you have left today?"

"Two…" Parker says, and you almost miss it seeing as he's so quiet.

You nod. "Okay. How about I work on it while you're in class and you can come back after."

Parker nods and without another word, leaves your office. You sigh loudly and lean your head into your hands.

"I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind." –Hamlet

That night, you're sitting in Spencer's apartment, his head in your lap as you both read. You can't help but think of Parker, of hearing him yell for the first time since you met him. The boy was always so quiet, except in class where he was engaged and able to answer every question, even if his answers were a little all over the place.

"[Y/N]?" You hear Spencer ask and you look down at him, dazed.

"Huh?"

"You haven't even looked at your book for six minutes and twenty-seven seconds," Spencer says and you frown. You put your book face down next to you on the side table and rub your hands over your face. You feel hands at your wrists, and they tug slightly, pulling your hands away from your face. "What's going on?"

"Just a student of mine yelled at me today," you say. Spencer frowns and you lean down, kissing where his brow was furrowed. "It's okay. I've just never seen him even raise his voice above a whisper besides when we're in class. And even then he doesn't yell." You pause, and sit back up. Spencer sits up as well and lets go of your wrists, leaning into your side. "A lot of the students and faculty don't like him because he's disruptive in class, but I know he's a good student. He's driven and knows a lot. He just needs to be pushed in the right way." You sigh again and lean over to rest your head on Spencer's shoulder. "I told him that I would finish editing his essay by the end of the week but he yelled at me, telling me to finish it right then and there. I told him I would finish it by the end of the day. I knew he wasn't going to stop asking, so I made a compromise I thought he could live with."

You look up at Spencer's face and see him frowning. "How long has he been like this with you?"

You let out a huff of humorless laughter. "What, you jealous?" you ask, joking.

Some of the tension eases from Spencer's face but he doesn't stop frowning.

"No, I'm not jealous. I'm just cautious." He looks into your eyes as he says, "You should be too."

You sigh and lean down, kissing him. "I know. I will be. I just don't want to push him away. I think I'm the only friendly face he has around campus…"

Spencer nods, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but he closes it, and the two of you spend the rest of your evening in silence, unanswered questions lingering in the air between you.

"Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall." –Romeo and Juliet

"You okay?" you ask Spencer one night while you're sitting on your bed together, watching something on your laptop. Tonight you were trying to get him into Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but he seemed more distracted than normal.

He looks up at you, a glazed look in his eyes before sighing. "The case we finished today? It was a stalker case. This man was in love with this woman and we had to make her tell him she was in love with him to get him to let his guard down," Spencer explains and you turn to face him, not saying anything. "We shot him. In the end. He died while the woman was sobbing into her husband's arms." You reach out and place a hand near Spencer, not touching him. He reaches out and takes your hand, kissing it. "I just keep thinking about how she'll never feel safe around another man again."

"You did what you could and you saved her life, Spencer," you say quietly and he looks at you sadly. "I'm so proud of you."

"But what about the people we can't save?"

You sigh and kiss Spencer lightly. "You can't think about that. Think about the families you saved, the women, the children. You saved a life! That's amazing, Spencer."

Spencer smiles and nods but he doesn't look convinced. You just kiss him again and go back to watching Buffy.

"<i>For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?</i>" –Much Ado About Nothing

You startle as a knock sounds at your door. You aren't expecting visitors. Spencer's out with work, and he said not to expect him back for a few days. It's only been two, and he can't have caught the guy that quickly already.

But when you open your door, Spencer is standing there, his eyes puffy and red, and before you can ask any questions, he's pushing himself into your arms. You stumble back and close the door before sinking to the floor, letting Spencer cry into your arms.

"Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun. Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain; Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done. Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies." –Venus and Adonis

"I love you," you say one evening while you're sitting on the couch, Spencer's head in your lap. You're running your fingers through his hair as you say this, making it fan out around his head like a halo of auburn curls.

He cracks an eye open at you and smiles. "Really?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes. I do. And I just thought I should say it," you say, and Spencer sits up, leaning in to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks and smile into the soft kiss.

He pulls away and says, "I want you to meet my mom."

Your eyes go wide and you open your mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. You frown before asking, "When?"

"I have some vacation time saved and we could wait until summer break!" Spencer exclaims, causing your frown to drop. "You're not teaching again until the second half of summer break, so we can see her then."

"I've never been to the west coast before…" you say, trailing off and looking away. Spencer goes to say something but you cut him off with a smile. "But, that's okay. I want to meet her."

Spencer grins and grabs your face, kissing you like his life depends on it. You laugh as he gets up and runs out of the living room, whooping with joy.

"I love you, Spencer Reid!" you shout.

"Love you too!" he shouts back.

"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends." –A Midsummer Night's Dream

It's a week until the end of term, finals right around the corner, and you have been stuck in your office for most of the day. Most of the week actually. You gave your students the last few days off to study for their finals, and to finish their final essays for you while you finished editing the last of their work before you were bombarded with essays and tests.

Your phone rings on your desk, but you turn off the noise, groaning as the red light beeps incessantly. It's been doing that for the past half an hour. You even had to turn your mobile off and shove it into an unused drawer of your desk.

After another five minutes of the light beeping, you pick up your phone.

"WHAT!" you scream into the receiver.

"Uh, Dr. [L/N]?" you hear someone say quietly into the phone.

"You know, I'm very busy right now and I can't handle distractions so if you would just-"

"Someone's shooting up the school."

Your blood runs cold as a knock sounds at your door, and you watch the knob turning. You gulp as the voice on the other end of the line tries to get your attention, but you can't hear them. All you can hear is the creak of your door as it's slowly pushed open.

"Mr. [Y/N]!" You hear someone shout as they enter your office. It's Parker. And he's holding a gun. "I thought I heard you in here! Who are you talking to?"

You go to answer, but the words die in your throat.

"I- I don't actually know. They-they were calling to tell me about you," you say finally, hanging up the phone as the person yells on the other side of the line.

Parker closes your door and walks over to your desk with a happy smile on his face. "I came to get you, [Y/N]," he says, and you force a smile onto your face.

"Really?" you ask, hoping your nervousness doesn't give anything away.

He nods. "It's just you and me now! Forever!"

You gulp, but smile. "Uh huh…"

"The only thing left in our way is that whore who calls himself your boyfriend…" Parker says, and your smile drops.

"Spencer?" you can't help the wavering in your voice as you say his name.

Parker nods and places his hand against his chin. "Yes. Maybe you can call him? I'm sure he's already on his way over here."

You gulp, but nod. You pick up your desk phone and dial Spencer's number from memory. While your memory may not be anywhere close to as good as his, you forced yourself to memorize it in case it was an emergency.

After the first ring, the phone is picked up. "[Y/N]? Are you okay? I've tried calling you for the past twenty minutes and you haven't picked up!" Spencer exclaims on the other end of the line.

You take a deep breath before looking up at Parker, who's smiling expectantly at you. He nods. "Spencer, can you come to my office?"

"I'm outside. Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Tell him to leave his gun and vest outside," Parker whispers and you nod.

"You need to leave your gun and vest outside," you say, your voice shaking with every word.

"Oh!" Parker exclaims and leans forward. "And tell him if he doesn't do all that, I'm going to kill you."

You let out a sob and say into the phone, shaking, "If you don't do what's been asked, he's going to- he's going to kill me, oh!" you exclaim, another sob escaping your lips. You hear Spencer start to say something, but Parker puts a finger down on the plunger and you hear the dial tone in your ear. You slowly take the phone away from your ear and look at it shaking in your grip.

You watch absently as Parker's fingers brush yours, getting you to open your hand, and you let him take the phone, and put it back down on your desk.

You keep staring off into the middle distance, even as Parker's hand rests on your chin. He turns your head and your eyes lock onto his. You can see the simmering rage bubbling underneath the feigned love that he's projecting. It's probably not even conscious. You don't know if a man like him even <i>could</i> fall in love.

You hear a knock at your door and Parker moves away from you, but grabs your arm forcefully. Your hips push into the desk painfully and you let out a small whimper. Parker's hand on your arm relaxes slightly and he pulls you around your desk to stand next to him at his side, his gun pointed at the dark wooden door that is slowly opening.

You see Spencer slowly pushing the door open, his other hand raised to show he's unarmed.

"Stay there," Parker says, holding his gun level at Spencer's chest.

"Okay. Okay," Spencer says, putting his other hand up. "No one needs to get hurt."

Parker shakes his head. "No. No. They do. They're going to come in the way of us!"

Parker looks down at you and you look up at him, wide eyed. "No, they won't. No one can come in between us," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Spencer's right. No one needs to get hurt."

Parker closes his eyes and shakes his head again. "Spencer, Spencer… Why Spencer? Why him? Why not me?"

You grab his arm and say, "It is you, Parker! It will always be you!" you look over at Spencer, asking with your eyes if you're doing a good job, if this is what you should be doing. He gives you a miniscule nod. You remembered from before when you talked about guys like Parker. "I don't love Spencer. I love you."

Your heart breaks as you say this, but you know that Spencer knows it isn't true. Parker's the only one who needs to believe it.

"Say it," he says, before looking over at the man in question, "to him."

You gulp and look at Spencer, leaning more into Parker's side as you say, "Spencer, I don't love you. I never loved you. I'm in love with Parker. Nothing will be able to keep up apart."

"[Y/N]..." Spencer says, heartbreak evident on his face. Either he's a really good actor or he actually believes it. You sincerely hope it's the former.

Parker nods when you look at him, and grins. "Let's get out of here…" he says, holding out his hand. You take it gingerly and he pulls your back to his chest, still holding Spencer at gunpoint. He flicks the gun further into your office, and Spencer moves with his hands up, tears streaming from his face as he moves across from you in the room.

Parker backs up slowly through the room towards the door, his gun still pointed at Spencer. As soon as he steps out into the hallway, you hear the gunshot.

You feel Parker fall behind you, and you run back into your office, falling to the floor, and only then do you start crying. You sob loudly, and when you're pulled into a chest, you only cry harder.

You hear Spencer whispering to you, and you feel his tears on your hair, your neck as he says, "I can't lose you too. I can't. I just can't…"

You pull him closer, pulling your legs to your chest as you sob, "I love you. I love you so much. I didn't mean anything I said!"

"I know," he whispers, kissing your head. "I know."

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." –Much Ado About Nothing

"I've never been to Vegas before!" you exclaim as you get off the plane. "Can we go to any casinos? I've never gambled before!"

Spencer chuckles as he grabs your hand, pulling you through the airport. "We'll see. I've been banned from a few, so I don't know if they'll let me in…" he says, trailing off and you laugh. "Did you know that what most people think of as Las Vegas is actually called Paradise? In the late 1940s, after the second world war was over, the city of Las Vegas actually banned gambling. The rich gamblers in town weren't happy with that so they created a town called Paradise and made gaming legal there. Well, it's not a town, but more like unincorporated land that doesn't follow Las Vegas' laws."

You grin and grab your bag when it comes around. While Spencer was talking, you had gone to the baggage claim and your bag had already been around once. While Spencer was used to traveling light, with only a go bag, you were not.

"I did not know that," you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he pulls out towards the exit.

You get the car he rented and you let him drive you to Bennington. He wanted to go back to the hotel for a night before seeing his mom, but you didn't want him to waste any more time. You would freshen up after.

You and Spencer are ushered through the sterilized, but still personable, halls of the sanitarium, and into a large room with a couple of other people in it. You see a blonde, short haired woman sitting on a couch and Spencer starts walking over to her.

When she sees him, her face lights up and she exclaims, "Spencer!"

"Hey mom," he says, giving her a wave. "I wanted to introduce you to someone."

She turns and looks you up and down, before wringing her hands out and looking at her son. "Is this the man you told me about in your letters?"

Your eyebrows raise at that and you ask Spencer, "You talked to her about me?" he looks at you, nervous, but you smile. "All good things, I hope." He grins and grabs your hand. You turn to Diana and hold out your hand. "Hi. I'm Dr. [Y/N] [L/N]. Spencer's told me so much about you. He really loves you."

She smiles and takes your hand lightly before letting go. "Yes, he's told me a lot about you too. He loves you too," she says, and you smile at him.

"And I love him," you reply.

"Journeys end in lovers' meeting; every wise man's son doth know" –Twelfth Night

#Spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x you #spencer read x reader #diana reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #my work #my writing

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Comfortably Numb. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

warnings: mentions of anxiety, just general uneasiness. word count: 2.6k.

Home is where the heart is.

It’s meant to be the sanctuary where you can unwind after a long day of work, dress in your most comfortable pajamas, and feel no qualms for the opinions of others. A safe haven of your own making. Granted, there was a time that you felt this way, no matter how long ago it seems. A coveted period of your life that you wish you could return back to. On a surface level, any onlooker might take a glance at you and think you are as normal as they are. If only that were the truth, you bitterly lament.

Now, what do you need to check on next? Milk is in good supply, not set to expire anytime soon. Hm… can’t say the same for the fruit. You jostle down some of your favorites onto the ever growing grocery list. What else is there? You’ve got to be missing something. Standing on your tiptoes, you open the overheard cabinet, that is now noticeably more barren than it used to be. The bags of tea that had once populated this area have vanished, all but a lonesome pack of matcha. Huffing, you close the cabinet doors, ready to voice your irritation.

Pivoting on your heel, you look over the kitchen counter and towards the occupied living room. “You drank all my tea?”

“Not at all of it,” your unwelcome guest corrects, much to your displeasure. “Besides, you never said I couldn’t have any.”

You raise an eyebrow at this conjecture. Who would’ve thought him a stickler for semantics. “Yeah, well, I never said you could have it either.”

“That’s a fair enough point. I’ll be sure to reimburse you for it later.” Chrollo ends the conversation before it even begins. His attention returns to his original activity of reading, freely helping himself to yet another one of your belongings. An exhausted sigh leaves your lips at the sight. If you somehow make it out of this situation unscathed, you may take on a more pious lifestyle, having survived way more than you should’ve. It’s a wonder that Chrollo hasn’t seen fit to strike you down where you stand. Where you lack self-restraint in the verbal department, you make up for it in your overall composure. Surely anyone else would’ve been crushed under the immense pressure of having a murderer crashing at their apartment.

That’s just about the best way to describe it, you think. How desensitized do you have to be to no longer shiver at the thought? In all fairness, Chrollo himself is treating this as the most ordinary arrangement in the world. At his own leisure he’ll start conversations with you, inquire about your day, and even offer insight that you never asked for. It’s gotten to the unfortunate point that you’re even starting to do the same. Treating him more as a peculiar roommate than the threat he truly is, though it could be your way of coping. That’s the explanation you’re going with.

Chrollo puts a bookmark into his read, and places it aside. “Is there anything you’d like for dinner?”

He asks the question as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your normally schooled expression is broken, lips parting and eyebrows furrowing together. Is he being serious right now? There’s no way to tell for certain. Not on a lack of trying from your behalf, his countenance never hints at his innermost thoughts. You get the feeling what little Chrollo does reveal to you is intentional. How creepy.

“I was just planning on warming up leftovers,” you accentuate this by opening your fridge. On the shelves sits lentil soup, apples, and some protein yogurts. Shit. “Scratch that. I’ll be settling for yogurt instead.”

“You had that for breakfast, if memory serves.” Chrollo points out, as if you’re incapable of remembering that yourself. It’s odd that he feels the need to pay attention to every detail about you. How often is Chrollo observing you without you taking notice? You push the thought aside with a frown.

“What are you, my hostage-taker and nutritionist? Besides, this is what I like to call a struggle meal. Or, meals, technically. I’ll go shopping tomorrow to make up for it.” You grimace while picking up the gourmet cuisine for tonight. Strawberry cheesecake flavor. It’s better with stuff added to it for texture, but this’ll have to do. It’s doubtful someone who is hiding a stolen merchandise worth hundreds of thousands can empathize with your position. Not that it matters if Chrollo Lucilfer holds you in high regard, with all the blood on his hands. He’s got no room to judge.

“Hm, in the time we’ve spent together, I never considered you as dense,” he gets up from his seat, making his way towards the kitchen. You don’t get a word in edgewise before your dinner is plucked from your hands. Chrollo places it back in the fridge, while you stare at him with a slackened jaw. “I’m offering to buy you food, [First].”

How considerate of him to spell it out for you.

“Appreciative as I am for your gesture of goodwill, I’ll pass. I don’t want to be indebted to you.” You make for the fridge once again, scowling as he holds it shut with unnatural force. Damn, he’s strong. Maybe you’re playing with fire by provoking him, considering the power imbalance, but your tongue is faster than your brain. Both a blessing and a curse. Leaning more towards the latter, you muse.

“I insist. It’s only right that I repay you somehow, for allowing me to stay here. You wouldn’t be indebted to me.” Chrollo’s smile never reaches his eyes, you notice. Standing here in close proximity to him, there’s a lot more you can pick up on. Every little detail of his disposition is intentional. From his even keel tone, to his polite speech, and way of acting like you have any say in the matter. You’re all bark and no bite. Both of you are keenly aware of this, and still he talks to you as if he’s none the wiser. It’s demeaning in its own right.

“I guess it is sacrilegious to turn down free food. Alright, you win.” You throw your hands up in mock defense. This uncomfortable interaction helped you remember the position you’re in, how every breath might be your last. He’s broken into your residence, forced you to hide him from encroaching hunters, and made your past ten days a living hell. It was the threats to your loved ones that ultimately earned your compliance.

You can’t help the self deprecation that’s followed since that day. The law is what you’re supposed to be protecting, not protecting criminals from. Going to the station everyday with the knowledge that you’re harboring such a dangerous criminal is weighing heavily on your soul. Life sure is full of the worst ironies. Had it not been an A class bounty, you may have stood a chance.

Chrollo reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out one of his many burner phones. “You’re being more agreeable than I expected, if I’m being honest.”

“What can I say? I become a bit of a yes man when my life is being threatened.” You respond with an empty smile of your own. Instead of earning any ire from him, he lets out an airy chuckle, of dubious sincerity. Whether it’s at you or with you is difficult to decipher. He pulls up a food delivery app, showing you the options. This was all prepared in advance, he must’ve taken the time to download it. So it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision to mess with you?

“Y-you’re really letting me pick?” There’s no hiding your incredulous tone of voice. This series of events is far too bizarre to fathom, like a nightmare stepping into reality. Just a week ago you were contemplating how to poison Chrollo without him taking notice. Now you’re ordering food together. There has to be an ulterior motive lurking around, your gut won’t tell you otherwise.

He tilts his head at your apprehension, and repeats himself. “That’s what I said, yes.”

Fuck it. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, or so the saying goes. You’ve suffered enough at Chrollo’s hands, it wouldn’t hurt to make the most of it. You take the cheap phone from his hands, scrolling through the options, and realizing now just how wonderful the variety of food sounds. Working up an appetite hasn’t come naturally with your uninvited guest skulking about. He has enough prepaid visa cards to cover what you want, so you hold nothing back.

After returning his phone to him, you can’t help but throw an additional sarcastic comment in. It’s second nature at this point. “Happy now?”

“Very much so,” Chrollo doesn’t mention your indignation, eyes raking over your expansive order. It’s not until he gets to the end that he quirks an eyebrow. “... A one hundred dollar tip?”

“Feel free to add some extra zeros to the end of that. It’s not binary code for ‘help me, there’s a criminal in my apartment’, if you’re worried about that.”

He hums in consideration. “I can’t say that came to mind.”

“Shit, looks like I went ahead and busted my own master plan.” Your response is notably dry. A headache is already in the works, courtesy of speaking to Chrollo for too long. He never fails to keep you on your toes. For all the sardonic remarks you make at his expense, anxiety has never stopped plaguing you. It’s a miracle that your heart is still functioning properly. You don’t even know why you ordered the absurd amount that you did, other than from pure spite, since your stomach is churning too much to want to eat. Maybe that’ll change when the food shows up. If not, your co-workers are going to be in for quite a treat tomorrow.

You return to your newfound favorite activity of ignoring Chrollo, busying yourself with anything that comes in sight. Watering your plants, putting mugs from the dishwasher away, menial stuff that keeps you busy. A new feat lies in your wake. Whoever designed this apartment didn’t do so with you in mind, your larger plates just barely out of reach. Not willing to concede to using a chair just yet, you keep up the gallant attempt, stretching as far as your body allows. Your fingertips graze just over the prized handle, only for you to fail again.

That’s when you feel an over looming presence behind you, a shadow encompassing your figure. Chrollo gets the plate you were reaching for with ease, his chest brushing over your back in the process. You feel your face flushing, your body going taut, standing still as a wooden plank. He sets it down beside you with a knowing smile. That bastard…! He’s doing this on purpose. Damn him.

“It looked like you could use some help.” He tells you. It takes every ounce of your self restraint not to lunge at him, instead taking a deep breath and nodding your head. Why is he so intent on getting a reaction from you? It’s exasperating, serving no practical purpose other than his own amusement. Inundated with your thoughts, you don’t realize how sour a look you’re sporting. This is what he wants, you remind yourself. To get you riled up. You refuse to play into his hands, and manage to get a grip.

Time passes by at a lethargic pace. After around forty minutes, your front door rings, and you pick up the order. Sitting at your counter, you help yourself to the meal, grateful that Chrollo has seen fit to leave you alone. There can never be anything good in this world, as he eventually joins you. You try not facing him as an act of defiance. The plan that seemed ingenious in theory has a rockier execution. Sitting in silence feels worse somehow, like a ticking time bomb. Shifting in your seat, you decide to strike up a half baked conversation.

“So, uh, about the whole being hunted down thing,” your voice wavers and you hate yourself for it, “Do you have an idea of when it’s going to be over? I’m starting to run out of excuses for why my friends can’t come over.”

This is true. There have been no more lively gatherings at your apartment since Chrollo’s unwelcome appearance, and you’ve been pestered about it. In between the lines is the prospect of your friends finding this reclusive behavior suspicious. In your optimism, you hope he takes it as a hint to get out of here faster.

Chrollo takes on a pensive appearance, his chin resting on his hand. “I’d been meaning to talk to you about that, so I’m glad you brought it up.”

How nice it is to be on the same page. This could be the light at the end of the tunnel, the last page in this awful chapter of your life. Ten days seems like a reasonable amount of time to lay low. Maybe he’s already packing his bags, planning to leave you far behind, so you can forget any of this ever happened. Maybe you’ll treat yourself to a vacation. From the gut wrenching anxiety Chrollo has inflicted on you, you feel deserving of one.

“They’ve stopped searching for me a while ago.”

Wait, what?

You look at him, silverware dropping from your lax hand. He’s never been into joking around. Does that mean he’s being serious with you? That all this time, you’ve been holding out for something that already happened? Fists balling by your side, you don’t bother hiding a sharp glare directed towards him. There’s no playfully wry response, no comeback, only disbelief and abhorrence. The bountiful meal in front of you is forgotten.

There’s no point in asking, but you still do, voice low. “... How long?”

“According to my sources, about a week.” comes Chrollo’s response, hammering the final nail in the coffin of your patience. His motivations have never been any less clear. You know you shouldn’t have taken the word of someone like him seriously -- you’re so painfully aware of this that it hurts -- but now leaves a final question. Why? What does he get out of this? You feel sick to your stomach, knowing that it’s going to bad no matter what. Your breathing has picked up, eyes dilating and body threatening to crumble under the tension. Everything feels out of place.

He responds as if he was reading your thoughts. “You’re an interesting person, [First]. You never cried, pleaded, or anything of the like. Instead you accepted the situation for what it was, all while staying true to your values. I find that admirable. I’d like to learn more from you.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a -- a fucking -- science experiment, instead of a human being. How does any of that shit even matter?” You feel the blood draining from your face, every word coming out more forced than the last. Getting riled up here is the last thing you should be doing, but you can’t control yourself. All your negative emotions from your time with him are regurgitating into a final mess.

“I don’t know, truth be told.” Chrollo checks the watch on his wrist, and you gulp at the smile that forms on his lips. It feels like a sentencing, a foreboding omen. There’s bile rising in your throat, and you scramble away from your chair. You need to get out of here. You need to run, to scream for help, to alert your family, this is not going to end well, what is he planning--

There’s a hurried knock at your door.

“However, what I do know is that I have no intention of leaving this place without you by my side.”

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anaveragebibliophile · 3 years ago

Text

Impossible

Carlisle Cullen x OC

Summary: Carlisle and his mate Eloise receive some shocking news that they weren’t necessarily prepared to deal with regarding her health. Instead of seeing what’s right in front of him, Carlisle believes that his wife’s health issues are stemming from other avenues. It isn’t until his wife makes a discovery that he alters his course of action.

Note: This is a deviation from what I normally post, but I hope that all of you will take the chance and give it a read. :)

“I can’t even believe this is happening again. And with your wife of all people!” Jacob Black shouted as he walked into the Cullen family’s wide, contemporary kitchen.

“Jacob, we’ve discussed this. Eloise isn’t like us. She isn’t a vampire, she’s a phoenix. As such, she’s capable of resurrecting the dead, the broken, the ill-equipped parts of us that are theoretically unsalvageable. And as things stand, we all know I’m infertile. Or that I was.” Carlisle explained. “Believe me, I’m just as overwhelmed as you are. Even more so because I’m still struggling to accept the fact that I helped someone--the woman I adore more than anything else on this earth--procreate.”

And it’s not like the couple had been trying either. Quite the opposite actually. Sure, both of them had done ample amounts of research--through legends and the like--to determine whether or not they would need to take precautions before having intercourse. From what little they could find, it appeared that exercising the freedom of caution was the best choice. Not only had pregnancies been reported, multiple births seemed to be a common occurrence. And even though Carlisle was reluctant to put his faith into these infinitesimal references, he still did what any self-respecting man would do: He made sure his strong, confident wife made the final decision about what she wanted to do. At the end of the day, her body would have been doing the brunt of the work had a pregnancy occurred.

Eloise thought long and hard about this and would even go so far as to test herself. Did she want a child? Yes. Would she be a genuinely good mother? She hoped so. But the ultimate question remained: did she want a child with Carlisle? More than anything else in the world. However, it just didn’t seem like the right time. The pack was going through organizational disputes, the Volturi were still trying to find ways to get her and Alice to join their coven, and Bella and Edward were in the process of adopting a child. There was just too much happening around her for that to work out. Or so she thought at that moment.

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About two months later, she started feeling a bit off-kilter. She was suffering from myriad migraine headaches, her stomach always seemed to be queasy, and she was dealing with some intense bouts of insomnia (which she had never experienced as a child or even during her adult life). Her husband was increasingly worried about her. So much so that he would have her in his office every day for testing. At that point, he was looking for a dormant autoimmune disease, cancer, anything that would highlight these symptoms. What he wasn’t looking for was a pregnancy, a fertilized egg within his wife.

One night, while the rest of the family was out hunting, Eloise and Carlisle were cuddling on the couch, her head in his lap. He was running his long, cool fingers through her hair and down her back, intermittently trying to coax her into eating a small piece of toast that he’d made for her. Yet every attempt didn’t do much. Regardless, he was hoping she would get her appetite back soon because her skin had started to take on a translucent pallor that he despised.

“Come on, honey, just one bite. That’s all I’m asking for,” Carlisle said, putting the plate in front of her face.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m just not hungry. The entire idea of food is revolting. Plus, I don’t really want to repeat what happened a few hours ago.” Carlisle hummed in understanding. While he knew that Eloise was being sincere, he wasn’t pleased that she was still feeling so fatigued and nauseated.

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A few hours ago, as he was attending to a broken rib of Seth’s at the reservation, he received a call from Alice. ‘Eloise has been throwing up for the last forty minutes, Carlisle. She didn’t want to worry you,’ she’d started. ‘But you need to get back here now. I’ve been sitting with her, and I’m worried she’s getting dehydrated.’ Heart in his throat, he quickly finished his session with Seth, letting him know that he had an emergency that he needed to attend to.

After parking the car, he ran into the house, heading straight for his and Eloise’s bedroom. And when he walking into the adjoining bathroom, he was shocked by what he saw: his wife, her cheek smashed against the toilet seat, breathing heavily in order to avoid another onset of nausea. In his peripheral, he saw Alice lightly rubbing Eloise’s back with her left hand and murmuring comforting words to her.

Instinctively, Carlisle moved towards his wife and took Alice’s place as the caretaker. “Hi, sweetheart. Alice called and said you weren’t feeling well. Can you tell me what’s been bothering you?” he asked, gently kneading the taut muscles in her lean back.

Eloise slowly pulled her face away from the toilet bowl and looked at him blearily. “My stomach just isn’t feeling super fantastic at the moment. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to keep anything down. I haven’t been able to since about two o’clock this afternoon.”

“Well, you haven’t been at your best recently. Do you think that may have something to do with it?”

“Perhaps. But I haven’t had this happen before. Yes, I’ve experienced nausea and some stomach cramping, but it never ended with me vomiting for hours on end.”

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And that was what still puzzled Carlisle in this moment. Why was this happening to her when nothing was physically wrong? She didn’t have AGID nor was there any evidence of malignant tumor growth. She wasn’t running a fever nor was she displaying any signs of infection. So what could it be? He was determined to find out.

He lightly ran the pad of his right thumb over Eloise’s cheek. “Sweet girl, I think it’s time that I do an ultrasound on your stomach. Maybe that will give us some answers. What do you say?”

“Alright. You’ll probably have to carry me though. I haven’t been doing well vertically,” she said, slightly smiling.

“Your wish is my command.”

He proceeded to carefully--oh, so carefully--move her head off his lap and onto a pillow (as a replacement). Then, when he was completely erect, he swiftly leaned forward and placed his forearms underneath Eloise’s lumbar vertebrae and upper thighs. Once she was secured in his arms, he gently kissed her cheek and proceeded to move them into his office, the one room in the house both of them have grown to resent.

Placing her on the exam table, he grazed his hand through her bangs in the hope of soothing the anxiety that was coursing through her. “It’ll be alright. You know I would never hurt you. Never.”

“I know. It’s not that. I just don’t want anything to be wrong. I want to be healthy,” she said, her voice on the verge of breaking.

“You will be. I’ll make sure of it,” Carlisle responds as he pressed his forehead against hers.

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Eloise smiled wanly as her husband went through his check-up regimen: ears, eyes, nose, throat, body temperature, blood pressure, then reflexes. While she may complain every now and then about his overprotectiveness, she really does feel so grateful and lucky to be married to a man whose compassion and kindness are limitless. This man always makes her feel valued, appreciated, and heard, especially apart from the rest of the world. And these are things that will never go unnoticed by her. He will never go unnoticed by her.

“How are things looking, Doctor Cullen?” she asked. “Am I passing inspection?”

Carlisle lightly laughed at her attempt at a joke. “So far things are looking good. I think we’re about ready to do the abdominal ultrasound and see what things are looking like down there.”

He moved over to his white, sterile metal cart that held the handheld ultrasound. The plan was for Carlisle to put the clear lubricant on her belly, place the ultrasound on it, and then wait for the image to connect to the screen to his right. From there, he’ll see if there are any obstructions or issues.

“Are you ready, honey?” he asked. “If it’s too cold, just let me know.”

Eloise held her two thumbs up. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

The exam began. For a period of time, the sound and echo waves were all they could hear. Eloise was holding her breath. Carlisle’s face was pinched, his eyes and ears hyper-focused on the task. Until the heartbeat-like echo struck back at them.

His wife lifted her hand to stop him from continuing with the examination. “What was that?” she queried.

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know.” he said. “Let’s try again and see if we get the same feedback.”

He continued his inspection but still received the same results. The heartbeat was unlike any he heard before (besides his wife’s): strong, pure, yet calm in its essence. Before he could ponder any other reasonings behind this strange occurrence, Eloise interrupted him. “Carlisle, we both know that’s a heartbeat. You can question it and try to find other avenues to follow, but you know the truth. And a heartbeat can only mean one thing,” she smiled, so big that her dimples were more pronounced than ever before. “We’re pregnant. My magic enabled us to create a baby.”

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “We don’t know that.”

“But we do. Carlisle, all the signs have been pretty prevalent these last few weeks. I just never thought to associate them with pregnancy because we agreed we would wait to start trying. I guess the universe had other plans.”

“Eloise, honey…”

“You know it’s true. I do because I can feel our child. Now, after all this time, he or she has decided to make their presence known. The energy I feel--the positivity and contentment I’m now carrying in this moment--is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”

Carlisle looked at her, stunned. If she can feel their child, how could he dispute that? How could he challenge what she (and he) knew to be true in all its unlikelihood? It wasn’t like this was entirely impossible, especially after reading about other couples’ experiences. Couples like them.

Eloise took his moment of consideration to move his hand to her tummy. “I know it’s hard to come to terms with right now because we weren’t sure how true the reports were, but I think it’s time we start believing in them. Carlisle, you’re going to be a father, and I’m going to be a mother. We’re going to finally have the opportunity to expand our family.”

Hearing those words made Carlisle outright grin. They had been waiting for this moment for so long that he never believed it would ever actually happen. But now, he has everything he could ever want in the palm of his hand.

“Well, it would appear that way,” he said, leaning over his wife to give her a heart-stopping kiss. “And I must add that I’m excruciatingly happy. Thank you, sweetheart.”

#twilight #newmoon #eclipse #breaking dawn #pregnancy #phoenix #vampire #carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #bella swan #edward cullen #jacob black #wolves #alice cullen #love #marriage #romance #babies

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vemuabhi · 4 years ago

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ITS OKAY TO TAKE A BREAK

Stressed Reader Comfort!

Hello!!! I am so happy you requested my dear! I am so happy to write for you. Please drink water and take care of yourself. I know it’s a hard time. But don’t lose hope and don’t let stress eat you up. You are loved and you are needed.

Pairing : Sanji X Reader

Word count : 2.2K

Warnings : Not proof read, Stress, insomnia, Hurt then comfort and a very adorable Sanji

Sanji post Tagging : @ye-rin164

Assignment after assignment. Projects, seminars and exams. Forget about dates, you are not even having time to sleep properly since the last month. Still you stayed up many nights writing all the assignments. Researching stuff needed for the seminars. Memorising all the chapters from all the subjects. Praying to get good credits every time. Even sleeping for those 3 hours a day seemed so stressful because of your piled up assignments, which your teachers just dumped on you mercilessly.

Slowly because of lack of sleep and hectic works, dark circles were visible clearly under your eyes. Headaches became regular now. You weren’t able to focus on things properly. You just… tried to go along with the flow of day. Anything you ate tasted bland making you to loose appetite. All you now wanted was a day to just… rest.

Ignoring the good morning and good night messages from a certain someone made you feel guilty. But because of work, you couldn’t even catch a break. Yes… stress was building up in you.

Researching and taking print outs for the next “group” seminar made you work even harder. Yeah as you know how there is at least one person in the group who doesn’t even attempt to do work. Now you had FREAKING two of them in your 5 member’s team. Guess what happened. You three had to now share the burden of the remaining work.

‘Good thing Sanji isn’t here to see how much of a mess I am right now’, you thought sipping your caffeine. You felt lucky that you were at least getting time to take a quick shower every day.

On the other hand, Sanji knew. He knew how terrible your work was getting, making you to give him a single reply every two days, letting him know you were alive. If you didn’t give him that reply, he’d have gotten a panic attack on how you were. No regular messages, no dates, no video calls, not a single god damn normal call. He was really getting worried. But he stayed patient.

Nami and Robin chan suggested him to go and meet you, but he thought if he went, he’d be a problem to you for not letting you finish your work. His heart was earning to see you. To hug you. To make you something to eat. To just… be with you.

As days passed, you were getting more and more annoyed and you started to have breakouts for almost everything and nothing. Even the smallest things were making you cry. Like once You even cried as you saw a small puppy outside your apartment.

You hated to cry. But because of this pressure you couldn’t even control your emotions. You felt like you were losing yourself.

At Sanji’s house, he and Zoro were doing dishes but Sanji couldn’t help but to worry about you.

“Its just a gut feeling but I cant help but to worry”, Sanji sighed.

“If you feel like shit, why not just go to her place?”, asked Zoro

“Tsk, Its not that easy. What if I interrupt her?”, replied Sanji washing his hands after giving the last plate to Zoro.

The green haired man took the plate and placed it into the shelf. He sighed and said, “Look cook. It’s okay to go and check on her once a while, If you are worried. Maybe she needs you too”

Sanji never thought of that. He was always insecure and felt that he might disturb you if he met you. But this gut feeling of his was telling him to atleast go and see you.

“In 5 minutes, I’m leaving”, the blond told his roommate before going into his room. Zoro just smirked before closing the shef door.

You sat in the corner of the room. Your books were still open and you knew you were supposed to study. Then… the negative thoughts hit you. Your brain wanted to play some tricks on you. And it chose this freaking time to do that.

‘Yeah… you are not gonna get good grades even if you do this’

‘Sanji is so hardworking. He’d be so disappointed to have a person like you as his lover’

‘All your assignments are worthless, stop giving yourself enough credit’, you looked into your mirror.

Tears slid down your face. You looked terrible. With messy hair, unwashed clothes, dirty room. You wanted to tear the place down. You were so hurt and pressured.

*Ring*

Your train of thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You wiped your tears quickly and stumbled as you made your way towards the main door. You swung open the door and your (eye colour) orbs met the all blue orbs. The golden hair smoothly covered one of his eye. His smile brightly as seeing you.

“Aish! Y/N, how many time have I told you to check before opening the do-”, He didn’t even complete his sentence and you ran into his arms, tightly embracing him, making him to take a step back.

He instantly knew something was wrong with the way to you hugged him. He wrapped his arms around your body. You started to cry as he hugged you.

“Sanji… I… I can’t… I hate this. I don’t like this”, you whimpered between your sobs. He soothingly rubbed the back of your head.

Without breaking the hug, he pulled you inside the house and locked the door. Leaning his back on the door, with still you hugging him, he pulled you even closer. He patted your back while you buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N, look at me dear”, he asked and you slowly looked at him. His expression from worry turned to one of a sad one.

“I missed you so much”, you cried even more looking at him.

“Shhh~~ Y/N, I’m here. Please don’t cry. This hardship will pass away. Don’t let the stress eat you up”, he kissed your forehead as he calmly whispered into your ear.

Actually Sanji was also so hurt because of your situation. But if he wasn’t strong, who would encourage you.

Soothing your tears away, he kissed your eyes.

“I am sorry. I look horrible”, you sniffed and damn yes, he was not happy by the way you said it.

“Don’t ever say that. You are the most amazing and hardworking person. Give yourself a bit more credit”, he shook your shoulders as he said that.

“Listen here, you are tired, but you are still very much beautiful. All you need is a good night sleep”, he said as he pulled you towards your bedroom.

The bed was a mess. Books, papers, laptop, stationary on it. You felt embarrassed as Sanji saw you in your worst state.

“Sorry Sanji for making you see this”, you said as Sanji just made his way into the room and started to quickly clean the bed.

“You are apologising way too much Y/N. If I didn’t support you now, I shouldn’t even call myself your friend let alone your boyfriend”, he said.

Within minutes, he cleared everything up. You went towards the table to continue your work, but then, you felt your wrist being grabbed.

You looked at him and he looked at you with worried eyes.

“Y/N, I never said you should now write your paper”, he said sternly. Even though his voice was deep, his eyes showed worry.

“But I should complete it”, you said but he was quick to pull you towards him. He lifted you up with grace and walked towards the bed swiftly and plopped you on it. You couldn’t even protest because of how quickly it happened.

You tried to get up but then he decided to jump on you and cuddle you. You chuckled at how he behaved like a small child. When he heard your laugh he looked up to you, his head still placed on your chest. Oh how much he wanted to hear that laugh of yours. But you yourself didn’t knew when you fell asleep. As Sanji was looking while you laughed, you almost immediately fell asleep.

He smiled at you as you slept. He woke up and went towards your desk and sat on the chair.

Looking at the assignment that you should start, he analysed what you wrote in the roughly at the side. He took your phone and placed his thumb on the finger print scanner. Yes of course, you guys are having the healthiest relationship. He went towards the pdf of the assignment due dates and found the assignment you were working on. And damn he got angry at how many assignments you were given. The one you were working on was to be submitted the day after tomorrow.

‘Damn… no wonder Y/N had to stay up most of the night for these’, he thought as he called one of the smartest people he knew. No… it wasn’t Luffy. He has the devils Luck to pass his exams.

“Hey Robin chan! This is Sanji”, he said as he looked at the assignment.

“Hi Sanji. What happened?”, she inquired

“Robin chan, I actually need some help”, he started to ask about the assignment and how to collect the required information related to it.

Robin chan understood the situation and started to explain.

“So Sanji, Don’t waste your time searching all the websites. Just go to the websites I told you and you can see almost every possible explanation required to you”

Sanji searched on the laptop as he placed the phone between his shoulder and ear. The un-lit cigarette was dangling between his lips. The habbit of having it made him focus on things even more. But he ofcourse didn’t want to light it and make you wake up from its smell. And for gods sake, it was your divine room. He would never light a cigarette here. Soon he could see the information required to your assignment.

“Oh yes! I got it Robin chan! Thanks for your help”, he thanked her and they both ended the call after the exchanging a few more casual talks.

He looked at some other sites Robin mentioned and found everything that you required for writing this assignment. He actually wanted to write for you but, he knows that you’d feel guilty if he wrote it. So he just searched it for you. Then looked at another assignment which was the next one you had to submit in 5 days from now. So, he started to search for it and found the required information. He looked at the time and noticed that, it was already 2 in the morning. He didn’t even knew how the time passed while he searched for the information.

Sanji stretched his arms and stood up. He walked towards the bad, where you were sleeping peacefully. He smiled at you before kissing your forehead. He hugged you as he slept beside you.

The next day you woke up to the aroma of the food. You woke up from the best sleep you had. It was so refreshing and you felt so much better with it. You got up from the bed and went to the kitchen, where you saw the blond cooking for you.

You hugged him from behind as he grinned at your cute behaviour. “Good morning love”, he greeted you as he placed one of his arm around your shoulder and snuggled closer to you.

“Thanks for making this baby. I am so thankful for this”, you said pecking his cheek. He smiled and continued to make the breakfast.

“Its alright. Well, Y/N, you need to eat before you start writing the assignment. You smiled looking at him. ‘I am sure lucky’, you thought. You ate breakfast and then Sanji showed you the information he collected to write the assignment. Just when you thought you couldn’t fall in love with him more, he proved you wrong.

He was beside you leaning down with the laptop before you two as he was talking about some websites Robin chan mentioned. You placed your hand on his chin and turned him towards you then pulled him in for a kiss.

“I think, I found the best boyfriend one could have. I’m so lucky”, you said as you hugged him

He blushed so hard when you said that.

“AHHH!! AND YOU ARE THE BEST GIRLFRIEND Y/N, I LOVE YOU TOO”

That day you both wrote the assignments together and finished them.

“Its okay to ask for help Y/N, I am always happy to help you”, Sanji said as he held the finished papers of the assignment.

You smiled back at him and said, “Thankyou Sanji. I… I’ll ask your help”

XOXOXOXO

So, I hope you liked this one shot. I felt so connected writing this. If you are facing a similar situation. Just remember. You need rest and you can always ask for help. Please give yourself credit and stay positive.

Like/Vote, Comment, Reblog/Share if you liked it!

Follow for more content!!

#sanji x reader #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmokes #Zoro One Piece #robin one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece fanfiction

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leelysian · 4 years ago

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Unwell

genre: slight angst with fluff ending, implied crush au, one shot

pairing: female reader x best friend!Minho

word count: 1.4k

context: you're terribly sick, you haven't told anyone but your best friend somehow knew something was wrong when you wouldn't reply to his numerous texts.

A/N: this may or may not have turned into a rant because I was sick for the past few days akskakdksks

Seasonal flus were the worst. Slightly chilly from hot or slightly warm from cold and suddenly your body decides, “You know what? I don’t vibe with this weather. I’ma just break down.” You had a mild fever and a cold. While the fever was mild, it was annoying because you weren’t sick enough to just pass out for hours and having a cold meant your nose either:

Dried up like the Sahara which ended up burning your sinuses and it felt like your skull was on fire.

Got blocked like the path between the North and South Korea; nothing got in or out which meant breathing through your mouth which also dried up.

Runny like the Amazon river, there’s crumples of tissue paper all over your floor. Your nose was red, rough and raw from blowing so much, the delicate skin was irritated.

Here you were, slumped on your bed with the covers on top of you but a leg and an arm sticking out because it got too hot to be fully under the covers and too cold to be fully without. Sleep eluded you the previous night, you just couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t gonna happen. Somehow you’d fall asleep only to wake up a little while later, and end up tossing and turning in your bed. Because you were unsuccessful in your attempts to get a good night’s rest, you woke up with a pounding headache from your eyelids to the back of your head. Your whole body ached.

Leftovers in your fridge were finished so you forced yourself to get up and heat some instant noodles to eat with your meds. Water tasted bitter. Your appetite vanished. Eating was agonising because afterwards you felt suffocated, an invisible pressure on your torso prevented you from breathing fully, your lungs not taking in air fully so your breaths were short. Hell, peeing was a chore. At least you weren’t on your period, maybe if that happened, you’d actually die. Imagine having to frequently change pads/tampons and underwear while feeling like you got ran over by a truck. Were you overreacting? Maybe. But it was allowed at this point.

So in short, you were suffering since the past two days. You were absolutely miserable. You wanted to cry but crying meant your nose getting runny then eventually blocked and then a headache so you sucked it up. You brought a hand to your head to massage your head because it hurt, grimacing by the tangles and the grease. You reached for your phone, unlocked to see various social media notifications which you cleared and messages from your friends which you also elected to ignore and reply to later. Playing a playlist with slow music with medium volume and dropped it back on the bed, you closed your eyes and let the soft melodies flow into your ears in hopes of helping you forget about your headache once again. This is how you held on to your last shred of sanity but you failed to hold on to your consciousness and fell into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up to a cold compress on your forehead, your room clutter and mess free, the windows open and something nice smelling. You thought you were dreaming when a face you know all too well walked into your bedroom with a bowl. “Minho? what are you doing here? Get out. I’m sick, you’ll get sick too.” you rasped. “Well, about time you acknowledged my existence, even if it’s to tell me to get out. I should’ve been here earlier, maybe it would’ve been helpful if you told me you were dying in your pigsty of a room.” he snapped. He put the bowl on your nightstand, you realised it was water, he was probably going to replace the cold compress.

“You look terrible.” he said. “Gee, thanks.” you retorted. “You need a shower.” he advised. “Nooooo.” you whined and snuggled further into the covers. “Come on, y/n, there’s no way you’ll get better if you feel disgusting. I’ll help.” He said and snatched the blankets. “Minho, stop. You’ll get my germs.” He sighed and rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry about it now come on.” he said and helped you sit up then suddenly with strength you didn’t know he had he carried you princess style to the bathroom and you yelped. “Jeez y/n you’ve lost so much weight.” he tsked. “Do you think you can wash your hair on your own?” he asked as he sat you down on the counter. “I’ll be okay.” you replied tiredly. “If you need help, just ask.” he said and adjusted the water temperature in the shower then left.

You took your time showering, the first five minutes just standing under the warm water which opened up your sinuses, having the steady stream of water beat down over your back and easing your sore muscles. You washed your hair slowly, so as not to tire your arms out. Stepping out of the shower, you felt immensely better, finally able to breathe a bit easier. Drying off, you wore your fluffy bathrobe and walked out to see a big shirt (one you ‘borrowed’ from Minho) and pajama shorts laid out on the bed. Thankfully, he didn’t lay out underwear for you. You dressed up and got settled back in bed, already tired again.

You unlocked your phone and saw the concerned texts from Minho because you weren’t answering them or his calls and felt guilty. A knock resounded from your door, “come in.” you said and Minho walked in with a tray. “Well well, finally I see y/n and not a corpse.” he teased. Whatever was on that tray smelled heavenly and your stomach rumbled. He put the tray down on your lap and he brought the back of his hand to your neck to check your temperature. “Hm, your fever has probably gone down but I think it’ll be back.” he notes. The whole time you stared at him. “Hey. I’m sorry I ignored your texts.” you said and twiddled with your thumbs, the guilt unbearable. He took your hands in his own, “It’s fine. I’m sorry for snapping. I was just worried and scared. I thought you actually died at first glance and I panicked.”

He turned to the tray and lifted the lid from the bowl, “It’s chicken rice porridge. Eat up and take your meds.” Your eyes were still downcast, “I can’t I feel horrible afterwards.” and you explained in detail. “It’s probably acidity, clearly you’ve been eating junk and it’s not sitting well in your stomach. This won’t cause you discomfort. At least eat a little bit. Please? For me? I made this for you.” he said and used the signature kitty eyes. You looked up and he’s already holding a spoonful of the warm concoction. You hated when he pulled the look on you, you could never say no to those eyes but then again you didn’t want to because that porridge looked pretty darn appetising. You opened your mouth and Minho fed you the gloopy goodness.

You could’ve just eaten yourself but you quite liked being pampered so you said nothing. Minho carefully spoon fed you the whole bowl, blowing delicately on the first couple of spoonfuls until the rest became tepid. Halfway through the bowl you felt full so you told him you didn’t want to eat anymore but he pulled the kitty eyes again, and now you’re stuffed. He handed you the glass of water and meds which you gulped down and went to clean up. He came back and stood awkwardly in your doorway. “You’re leaving already?” you asked sadly. “Do you want me to?” he asked back. “No grab my laptop and come watch Spirited Away with me.” you pouted. He smiled, got the laptop from your desk, grabbed one of the sweatpants he left from previous times he’s been to your place to change into, and then settled in bed next to you under the covers.

You took one of your many pillows and settled your laptop on it and settled back. “Hey, Minho?” you called. “Hm?” he enquired. “Thanks for taking care of me.” you smiled softly. He was going to say something snarky but decided against it and said, “It's alright.” About half an hour into the movie he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder and he looked bewildered to see you’ve fallen asleep on him, breathing softly. He turned off the laptop and placed it on the ground before wrapping his arms around you, placing your head over his chest and reclining back. He looked at your sleeping face with soft, adoring eyes and a gentle smile. He gently rubbed your back with one hand when suddenly you stirred and threw your arm over his stomach. Slowly, he too, drifted off to sleep with dreams of you and him together.

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emeraldbabygirl · 3 years ago

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N.Flying reaction to you being on your moon

So I decided to write a thing. I’m not sure if this is a reaction but I know it’s not a headcannon..at least I don’t think it is. And I wanna start with this one and from here on out write the titles at the top and fix any previous works that are framed like this so it looks better? I’m still trying to figure out how I want my layouts to look like. Btw for some reason tumblr is whack and it’s not showing me any gifs of N.Flying except for like five and they’re all recent from the Moonshot mv and it’s not what I’m looking for. It’s been happening with me a lot not whenever I search for a gif it only spits up a few and they are recent like everything else got deleted? Idk it could be a bug on my end or just tumblr doing its stupid thing so this reaction unfortunately won’t have gifs :( I’m sorry

Seunghyub: Seunghyub was a man that would come running to you at the drop of a hat. He was very gentle and understanding with you while you were on your moon and he loved showering you with cuddles and kisses in hopes it would cheer you up cause he knew how moody you could get. You came home from work and not meaning to sound like a bitch you grumbled at his friendly greeting. Seunghyub was too smart to frown as he knew you couldn’t help it. He followed you down the hall entering you room and then the bathroom to draw you a nice bubble bath. He figured the light might be to harsh if you had a headache so he lit a couple candles around and found you in your room attempting to crawl into bed with your work clothes still on. “Darling come here I drew you a nice bubble bath.” He said pulling you out of bed. You grumbled and attempted to fight him like a cat afraid of water. “Come on now you don’t want to sleep in your clothes. You’ll feel better after a bath huh?” You huffed in defeat as Seunghyub led you into the bathroom. Helping you with your clothes he held your hand as you stepped in the warm water. You immediately sighed and began relaxing. Seunghyub let you close your eyes as he gently washed your hair and scrubbed your back. “Thank you for this Seunghyub really. And the candles are cute.” You smiled warmly at him. Seunghyub hands are covered in bubbles but he still cups the side of your face to kiss you. “Anytime Darling.”

Chahun: For the most part you were calm as far as mood on your period but your cravings for random foods and your appetite always increased. Chahun has picked you up from work and you were passing every fast food place and restaurant in the universe. Well that’s what it felt like. “Hunnnnn I want fried chicken..or a hamburger. Look there’s a sushi restaurant right there let’s get something to eat pleaseeee” you whined pressing your face against the window. “It’s late love, we’re going home. I’ll fix you something then okay?” Chahun said. You appreciated and loved Chahun cooking for you but you wanted greasy food right now and you felt bad about him always cooking despite you knowing full well how to. “Chahun..don’t you think you cook too often for me? I mean..wouldn’t you like a break? Besides I really want to go out.” The rest of the ride was silent. You sat at the table in sweats and watched Chahun shuffle around the kitchen. You loved watching him cook you just felt bad that he was always doing it and even when you weren’t hungry he still insisted. You felt even worse when you were on your period. Chahun finished up and plated food for both of you landing a kiss on the top of your head before placing your food in front of you. “I know you want fast food and I know you think I cook to much for you but I think home cooked meals are better on your tummy, especially during your lady time. Also you are my girlfriend and I enjoy cooking for you as a sign of love. Now eat up and then we can do whatever you want for the rest of the evening.” You smiled taking a bite of food. Chahun was too sweet.

Jaehyun: Jaehyun always did his absolute best to cheer you up whenever you were having your monthly and most of the time he could get a smile out of you. Tonight though you were laying on the couch in tears from the cramps you were having and Jaehyun couldn’t seem to cheer you up. He tried jokes, dancing goofy, breaking one of his sticks on purpose but nothing was working, you were in too much pain. Jaehyun kneeled in front of you moving your hair away from your face so he could wipe the tears that were falling. “Sweetie I’m sorry you’re so much pain..is there anything I can do?” Jaehyun was sad seeing you like this. “Rip out my uterus please” you said. This sent Jaehyun into a laughing fit. The sudden outburst from him and seeing him roll around on the floor from how silly you were being put a small smile on your face but that went away when you got a cramp the felt like you got kicked really hard in the stomach. Jaehyun settled down and noticed your silent suffering. “Hey, let’s lay down on the bed it’s probably more comfy. I can make you some tea and..” Jaehyun stopped talking. You probably didn’t feel like getting up. Jaehyun decided to just sit with you and comfort you as best he good. He heated up a hot pack and placed it on next to your side. Running his hand through your hair helped you relax a little and the hot pack slowly started to help with the cramps. Jaehyun covered you up with a blanket as you drifted off to sleep and quietly cleaned up the living room.

Hweseung: Hweseung was use to how moody you were. He comforted you whenever you cried wheather it was cramps or you got sad, he bought you your comfort foods when you were hungry and cranky and he even put up with your random laughing fits. He knew how your emotions could get on your time of the month but he was confused this month as you kept initiating sex. You weren’t normally like this and poor Hweseung didn’t know how to go about it. “Fuck me Hweseungggg” you blurted out while you to were on the couch watching tv. Hwesung was so surprised he nearly spit out his tea. “W-what?” Hweseung said after catching his breath. Did he hear you right? “Come on I’m hornyyyy” you whined starting to attack his neck with your lips. “Babe, do you really feel like having sex right now? It’s messy and you might hurt more. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable..also you don’t want to get pregnant now do you?” Hweseung was very aware of the ovulation cycle and knew that today would be the best time to have sex if you were looking to make mini yous. “Yesss let’s make lots of babies please Hweseung. Fuck me I’ll feel better.” You said against his neck. Hweseung sat as you cuddled and crawled all over him. Hweseung himself wasn’t fond of the idea of period sex at all. He definitely thought it was a bad idea while you were menstruating but he didn’t want to upset you. After contemplating for awhile and going over the possibilities of you actually getting pregnant he decided he would go through with it. But he took to long as he could hear your light snoring as you must’ve conked out from exhaustion. Hweseung sighed in relief seeing you out with your head on his lap. You looked like a cat, it made Hweseung smile. He repositioned your head in a more comfy direction and rubbed your lower back while he continued to watch tv. He chuckled to himself at the thought of you falling asleep during sex. You were just too tired and you needed your sleep.

Dongsung: Dongsung was really good to you around your time of the month. He would give you hot packs if you were having cramps, cook for you or order anything you wanted, draw you baths or set clothes out for you after a shower. He would tend to your every need and you were thankful but he was always running around too much. “Dongsung,” you said coming out of your room after changing from your work clothes. Dongsung practically rushed to your feet with a concerned look. He was always so adorable it made you sad that he felt he had to tend to your every need. “Is everything okay babe?” He asked worry in his voice. You sighed. “Can we just watch a movie tonight. You always work so hard to help me and I just want you to stop and relax. Can we just have an easy night tonight? Please?” Dongsung nodded quietly and grabbed your hand and you both walked to the living room. “Can I still make popcorn though?” You smiled out how perfectly silly he was. “Yes of course, but hurry up please I wanna cuddle.”

I did Hweseung’s last so sorry if it’s kind of crappy towards the end. It took me two hours to finish this cause I was distracted from vibing to N.Flying lmao. Anyway I wanted to make this cause I’m in my N.Flying feels again and I just thought this would be a nice lil thingy. (Also side note I feel like Hweseung would be really sweet and neat during sex in general and even more so if it was period sex even though period sex is gross and messy but I just wanted to add all the aspects and things around your moon time)

#n.flying #seunghyub #lee seunghyub #cha hun #chahun #jaehyun #kim jaehyun #dongsung #seo dongsung #hweseung #yoo hweseung #n.flying fanfics #n.flying reactions #kpop fanfics #kpop reactions #fanfics #reactions

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crescentsteel · 4 years ago

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Just Friends - Part 9

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: slow burn, fluff, smut word count: 7.3k

Read at AO3 [A/N at the end]

Part 8 | Part 10 | m.list

You haven’t even gotten up yet, but you already know that you have the worst hangover in your entire lifetime. You have this intense urge to throw up even though your stomach felt empty. Your head felt like it was being hammered on to your soft pillow. Your throat was dry. Your thighs hurt like hell.

How you wished you could go back to sleep, but even with your eyes closed, everything was still painful.

You had no choice but to get up and fix yourself since lying down wasn’t doing you any good. When you propped yourself up, regret hits you as the pulsating in your head worsens.

Why did you even drink in the first place?

You did your best to recall what happened last night despite the intense headache

You were going to confess to Kuroo. He was suddenly dragged away. Vodka. Brown hair Taku. No, it was Yaku.

Then darkness.

That was it. That was the last thing you could remember.

You raise your hands to your temples to gently knead them, hoping to alleviate even a little bit of the pain. How could that be the end of your memory?

You always thought black outs were a myth. Maybe because you’ve never experienced them until this morning.

In the past, you’ve had nights where you drank a lot more and stayed up until morning, but never had an episode like this. That was before you completely stopped drinking.

Last night, you got yourself smashed because Kuroo was taken away by some of his old friends. It was his birthday! Of course he couldn’t just stay by your side.

You hate yourself more than ever for letting your emotions take control of your better decision-making.

You cover your face with your hands and groan audibly loud at your own idiocy.

Instead of soothing yourself, you only made the headache worse.

You remove your blanket and see that you’re wearing different clothes from last night. You were still able to change your clothes before you went to bed? That’s weird. When you’re drunk and spent, you don’t bother changing at all.

How did you even get home in the first place?

You think even harder, but you remember nothing. You couldn’t imagine how you went home all by yourself safe and sound. It must be Kenma. Worst case scenario is it was Yaku. You really don’t like strangers in your place, but if it was him, at least he got you home safe.

“Good morning.” You look up to the source of the all too familiar voice.

He emerged from your kitchen with coffee in his hand. He was wearing his pants from last night and a white shirt. He looked like he didn’t get enough sleep but somehow, still lively.

What’s he doing in your apartment?

For Christ’s sake, can the questions in your mind be answered first before another one pops up? Your head feels like it’s being split in half already.

“Morning.” You said with a raspy voice that you weren’t expecting. Were you screaming at something last night? What could possibly be the reason if you were? Even if you were drunk, you weren’t the type to go all hyper and shout until your throat suffered.

“You okay?”

“No,” you replied with a barely audible voice.

When you tried to stand, you realized that you underestimated the ache in your thighs. It was like you exercised your lower body from how your butt cheeks hurt as well.

What the hell did you do last night?

“Ugh. I feel sick,” you murmured.

He went back to your kitchen. Instead of the mug he was previously holding, he was carrying a glass of water in his hand as he walked towards you.

He sat beside you and handed you a pain killer. You took it together with the drink he had.

On a regular day, you’d be cautious as to why he’s there so early in your apartment, but right now, you’re thankful. Even if it was just a few steps he saved you from, him being there allowed you to not move at all.

You gave him back the glass after gulping it until the last drop. The liquid soothed the uncomfortable dryness of your throat.

“Why did you get so plastered last night? You were a fucking handful, did you know that?”

His words were reprimanding, but his eyes and smile spoke of an entirely different emotion. He looked excited about something. It made you a bit nervous because you really might have done something outrageous based on how cheery he looked.

You’d ask him later. Right now, you wouldn’t be able to deal with him making fun of you.

“No reason. I didn’t really know anyone from last night, so I thought I’d entertain myself. Turns out I couldn’t hold my alcohol as well as I did before.”

You were impressed with yourself with how quickly you were able to make up a lie despite your condition.

“Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You scoffed. Öh please. I’m not a child to be attended to. Also, it was your birthday, so don’t sweat it. It wasn’t a big deal. I hope you didn’t have to leave early because of me though.”

Your mind was starting to wake up even though the headache is still there. He couldn’t have broken in here. You must’ve let him enter your place. That means it was him who took you home last night.

“You don’t remember?”

The gloom in his voice made you look at him. His eyebrows knitted together as he stared closely at you, anticipating the next words you were going to say.

“I’m trying to, but the last thing I can remember is Yaku.”

“Nothing after that?”

You look straight ahead at the wall in front of you, trying again to get even a tiny fragment of recollection you might remember after Yaku. Certain images in an order you’re not sure are correct, flickered in your head.

Throwing up in your sink with him behind you. His car. Huddling up to Yaku.

“Oh my God.” You look back at him again.

“What?” His anticipation heightened from your reaction.

“I made Yaku a human pillow!” You groaned. “Please tell him I’m so sorry. Oh God, he must’ve felt so awkward.”

“I’m sure he enjoyed it. What else do you remember?” his tone getting impatient.

“Nothing. Why? Did I do something worse than that?” You were starting to feel horrified with yourself. If hugging Yaku didn’t faze him, then you must’ve done something far more atrocious based on his reaction.

“I’m just fucking around. You didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have.” He said playfully except it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I ordered ramen while you were still sleeping. Figured you have to eat from how you barfed last night.”

The thought of food immediately replaced having broken memories of last night’s event. He was right. The nausea from when you woke up was greatly lessened and has left you starving. Having him stay for the night was the right choice your drunk self made.

After you ate, you felt so much better. The medicine completely kicked in and your ravenous appetite from getting wasted has been satiated.

He was the one who set the table, so you took it upon yourself to clean up after.

“Did we use the stairs instead of the elevator?” You asked while walking to your trash bin with used cutleries in your hand.

“Why?”

“My thighs freaking hurt.” You answered as you threw what you were holding in the bin.

He sighed. “You really don’t remember anything.” It was a statement of surrender, acknowledging that you really couldn’t recall much of later occurrences from last night.

You washed your hands before facing him.

“Why won’t you just tell me already?” The way he’s being enigmatic about it is so strange. It was unlike him. You thought he’d be more smug about it, teasing you for doing whatever stupid thing you did you might have done.

“We had sex and you told me you love me.”

You just stared at him, looking for the slightest indication that he was just kidding. But you found none. He was looking straight at you, waiting for your own reaction to what he just told.

It felt like someone dropped a huge boulder right on top of you. Your headache that just dissipated was threatening to come back as some missing key pieces of the puzzle that is your memory were finally showing up.

Scenes from last night flashed in your mind, making your breathing gradually heavy from what transpired before you lost consciousness.

You still couldn’t remember all of it, but the ones you do, made you run to the bathroom, ignoring how your lower body throbbed from the sudden motion.

It was you. You were the one who asked him to stay. You were the one who kissed him first. You were the fool who admitted your love for him.

Once inside, you hurriedly remove your shirt.

Purple and reddish spots were scattered on the base of your neck, on your shoulder, and down to your breasts.

Although your memories are still in fragments. The ones you just recalled made everything cohesive. Your voice was gruff earlier from how you screamed in pleasure. The muscles in your abdomen down to your thighs ached from how you chased your own gratification on top of him. You didn’t change your clothes before sleeping. It was him who did it.

It was already regrettable that you let him do you, but to confess to him after doing so?

It wasn’t how you wanted it to go. You wanted a real conversation about it. It didn’t have to be dramatic, but telling him about your feelings while drunk and passing out after took away the opportunity to see how he would react to it.

Now all you can see is his troubled face when he kept asking if you didn’t remember anything.

Whatever hope you had yesterday was flushed down the drain. If he felt the same way, why did he look so anxious?

He probably felt bad for you, so he stayed the night and made sure you were taken care of in the morning. You could imagine him having that distorted sense of responsibility when you drank your heart out at his own party and confessed your love at the end of the night.

You put your shirt back on and stepped out.

You didn’t want to but you have to. You forced yourself to confront the problem head on. You had no way out of the situation.

You found him in the way you left him, sitting on the same chair in your dining area.

When you came back, you wore a distraught expression with a strained smile on your lips.

“I’m really sorry about last night. I haven’t been in a relationship and haven’t got laid either when I left, so I missed the feeling. It must’ve been weird for you. My bad.”

That sounded plausible to you. Indeed, you were becoming a good liar.

You waited for his response, but you’re met only with silence.

He suddenly stood up and went to get his clothes that he hung on the handle of your closet. “You look okay now, so I’m leaving.”

He seemed irritated, but you didn’t know why. Did you poke his ego?

“Hey, wait.” You stop him as he’s already at the door with his long strides.

“What?” He snarled, anger seeping from how he uttered the word.

“Why are you mad?” You asked with genuine perplexity as to why he’s so ticked off. .

“Let me rephrase what you just said, y.n.Y ou were drunk, horny, and lonely and I happened to be conveniently there for you to fuck with.”

You were previously confused and worried, but now you’re aggravated. You didn’t coerce him to have sex with you. How dare he make it look like you used him. How dare he act like that that wasn’t the nature of your sexual relationship.

“And?” You replied with cold apathy.

You saw how your response wounded him. There was a gleam of hurt that crossed his eyes before he turned around, ready to exit your apartment.

But you didn’t feel bad for him. You only feel irony from how he’s reacting.

“Didn’t you treat me the same, Kuroo? Didn’t you enjoy how much of a convenient fuck I was to you?”

He let go of the door knob and spun to face you right when you spoke.

“At least when you weren’t around back then, I wasn’t getting nasty with anybody else.”

You didn’t mean for that to slip out. It wasn’t even something that fit the context of your argument. It made your blood boil how he made himself the victim, so you wanted to throw something at him in return.

“The fuck are you talking about?” A frown shifting his expression from angry to confusion.

Nothing good will come out if you let unnecessary anger take over you, so you let out a deep breath, calming yourself down before you say anything. “I was there that night. At the bar.”

You figured out that he already knew what you meant when shock took over the bewilderment that previously reigned on his face. Still, you wanted to say it. You never had the boldness you currently have, so you found it necessary to hell him how you felt back then before you lose the chance to ever do so.

“You must’ve been really bored that you needed a distraction while you waited for. So I didn’t lie when I said I was sick that night. That’s what I felt with what I saw.”

Even though you sounded like you were faulting him, the truth is you were just narrating it as how it happened. So when you gave him a smile, it was a sympathetic one because you knew he didn’t do anything wrong. He shouldn’t look like he did something he was not supposed to..

“But really, I was just dumb. No one said we were exclusive shagmates. I just assumed that myself.”

“Was that why you avoided me when you were about to leave?” His voice was low and soft.

You nod. “Yeah.”

His jaw tensed up as he harshly averted his gaze away from you as if you were someone painful to look at.

“I see.” was all he said before he opened the door and walked out.

—

Kuroo was expecting the hangover, but not you forgetting every single important detail from last night. It was disappointing, but forgivable. There was nothing you could’ve done about that.

He thought that once he told you, you’d admit that it was true. He’d get to hear you say those words again, but for real this time, not just because you were alcohol-induced.

Apparently, he thought wrong.

He just happened to be the person present when all your pent up feelings were let loose by the alcohol. What if it was Yaku who took you home? Would you have done the same with him? Would you have pulled him in your bed and let him ease your needs like he did last night? Would you have told him that you love him too?

It almost made him furious However, it was immediately thwarted with what you revealed. You were actually there that night. He was convinced you ditched him, but the reality was you fled from the scene because of what you saw. He didn’t really do anything with that woman other than what you witnessed. He couldn’t even remember her face.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was how that night of him being uncertain of his feelings made you feel. He knew exactly how. You felt like an option, the primary one, but still an option regardless.

There was no one else he was having sexual affairs with aside from you at that time. You were right that he could have messed around with others because no one said he wasn’t allowed to. But he didn’t. He was content with you. He didn’t crave for anyone else when he had you.

He wanted to give his side of the story. He wanted to let you know that he was confused at the time and that he didn’t mean to hurt you like that. But the look in your face told him that you didn’t care anymore. You resolved the issue on your own by letting yourself believe that it was you to be blamed for thinking that it should’ve been you only.

He must have been an ass in your eyes. What he felt a while ago was what you must have felt that particular evening. The scenarios were different, but they enunciated the same cruel fact despite the different timeline - you were practical to have around for sex only.

Nothing was different from how it was a year ago.

What happens now that the both of you smashed that wall of platonic friendship you built? What are you now? Will the two of you go on and pretend like last night didn’t happen or will you go back to being fuck buddies?

Both are equally grim to him.

How can he act like last night didn’t happen when it meant the world to him? As he held you captive in his embrace after you muttered the words he was longing so long to hear, he couldn’t stop himself from believing the sweet promise of your inebriated words. Only for you to crush his hopes not even 24 hours after.

Similarly, he couldn’t see himself getting back to having casual sex with you again. Not when his feelings for you have grown so enormous that it was weighing him down just thinking that you didn’t feel the same way. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes before he left from the dejection burrowing on his chest.

He pressed his car keys and got inside the vehicle.

He was physically tired from not getting enough sleep last night. Yet it was nothing compared to the grueling ache he has for you that escalated even higher despite the circumstances.

Your last conversation with Kuroo was heated, but you didn’t say anything out of line. You were also upset, but not enough to not want to talk to him.

Obviously, that wasn’t the case for him. He’s clearly avoiding you.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen him. It was the first time that you hadn’t met with him for that long. He didn’t even message you as often as he used to. He’d only text you if you text him first and to add salt to the injury, his replies were dry as ice. Before, he would always be the first one to reach out to you. Now, it’s as if he was only forced to respond out of courtesy.

His absence made you think how things would’ve played out differently if you just told him that you meant it when you said you love him. If you knew that it was going to be like this, you would’ve just told him. If he avoided you because of it, at least you’d have been able to get your feelings for him out of your chest already. But since you panicked from your unconscious confession, you chickened out at the chance to do so.

Even though you believe you were in the right during your argument, he apparently took offense from something you said. So you decided to clear the air with him and apologize.

Once you reach your car, you’ll text him to meet when he’s free. You’ll do it now while you’re still sitting in the lobby of the hotel where you just met with a client. Your meeting was over for almost an hour now, but you still sat there with your mind occupied by Kuroo.

You took your phone out and started to compose a message. It should be a simple one but somehow you found it complicated to form the simple question of asking to see him again. You look around while you think of how to make it natural-sounding.

That’s when you saw him, sitting at a good distance across you.

He looked a bit rugged than usual with bags under his eyes and weariness apparent on his face. Maybe he was busy with work that’s why he wasn’t as responsive as you wanted him to be. All your gloomy thoughts might just be you overthinking.

That gave you the assertiveness to walk up to him and take the vacant seat in front of him.

You didn’t say anything but you were all smiles when he met your eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here. Haven’t seen you in a while,” you said haughtily. You were expecting a conceited retort like ‘Why? Did you miss me?’ or something like that because that’s how he is with you.

Instead, he sat straight as his eyes darted around as if he was looking for something.

“Sorry. I was sorting out stuff at work,” he answered blandly when he returned his gaze at you.

You nod while you try to not feel disappointed. You were glad to finally see him, but it looked like you’re just a bother to him. Still, you’re there already. You won’t let this chance pass by.

“I heard the food is good here. Want to try it? I haven’t had lunch yet.” You lied about the food being good. You really haven’t heard of the restaurant in the place, but you just needed a way to ask him casually.

“Uh..” he looks at his watch with worry.

“Kuroo-san?” It came from a feminine voice behind you.

You turned your head and saw a pretty, short-haired lady who’s even taller than Alisa Haiba. You’d compare Alisa’s beauty to an expensive piece of jewelry, stunning and eye-catching. This girl is like a cold iced tea on a hot day, refreshing and pleasant to take in on the first sip.

“Oh.” You and the girl muttered in unison when your eyes locked with each other.

You were in no way insecure of how you look. Modeling gave you a constant ego boost. You knew you’re beautiful, but alongside the two women, you felt average.

“Sorry, y/n. I’m currently busy. Some other time?” He looked at you apologetically.

The patheticness that set in you was quick and vicious, giving you no time to prepare as you put two and two together. He was meeting someone else. That’s why he was so uncomfortable when you came over.

The seat you took wasn’t vacant. It was for her.

You got ahead of yourself and thought he’d be glad to see you. If he wanted to, he would’ve asked you. Instead, you marched your way to him confidently when he was expecting another girl.

“No! It’s me who’s sorry for suddenly coming over like that. You guys enjoy.” You said as you stood up all too quickly. You gave the girl a polite bow, then gave one to Kuroo as well. You’ve never bowed to him, but right now, he felt so distant that you found the need to do so.

The click of your heels were in the same rhythm as the beating of your heart, it was fast and heavy. It was irritating. Yet you wouldn’t slow down even if they echoed in the whole lobby.

You need to get out of there fast.

Kuroo knew you misinterpreted the situation again when you bowed to him. That was something you both didn’t do. You were never polite to each other.

He wanted to go after you, but he’s working. He couldn’t let personal matters take over. He’ll just call you later.

“Is everything alright, Kuroo-san?”

He forced himself to focus on his job.

“Ah, yes. Please sit down, Kanoka-san.” The volleyball player took the seat you were occupying just a moment ago.

Even with Kanoka sitting in front of him, his eyes went to your back instinctively as you headed towards the exit of the building.

He’s been reluctant to see you for the past few weeks because he didn’t know how to face you without the complexity of his feelings blowing up in both your faces.

When you suddenly came out of nowhere, he was completely taken aback. It wasn’t the right time. He had a scheduled appointment with Kanoka to discuss her ad with Mikasa. He couldn’t engage in a proper conversation because she was running late and he knew she was going to be there anytime soon.

If only he wasn’t on the edge around you, he could’ve handled the situation well. Instead, it seemed like he brushed you off to be with someone else.

Shit.

“Kanoka-san, I’d be back in a minute.”

He didn’t wait for her answer and stood up. He walked as fast as he could to catch up to you.

“Y.n. Wait” He called out to stop you before you could get out of the building. He knew you heard it since some of the guests around him looked at him from how loud he said your name. Yet, you didn’t look back. You only treaded the marbled floor faster, leaving him no choice but to chase you.

He didn’t care about people looking anymore. You were upset enough to ignore him. That gave him all the more reason to go after you.

He reached you in no time and grabbed your arm, but you still wouldn’t look at him.

“I need to go,” you said with a stern voice with your gaze fixated on the glass door just a few steps away. “I said wait.” His grip tightened on your arm when he saw how badly you wanted to get away from him.

“Will you please let me talk?” His voice softened, pleading for you to give him a chance to explain even though he had no idea why you were so hurt. You only saw him as a friend. You wouldn’t get jealous over that.

Yet, you still wouldn't budge. Your only response was the heaving of your chest as you weakly struggled to remove his grip on your arm.

“Kitten, come on,” he said soothingly while his thumb strokes the flesh of your arm.

“Guard!” You half-shouted with a wavering voice to the men near the entrance and exit.

The guards all turned their attention on him, your plea for help instantly heard.

He immediately let go not from the fear of the guards, but because of the pang from being treated like a threat when all he wanted was to clear any misunderstandings you might have had from the situation earlier.

As soon as you became free from him, you rushed to the exit without even sparing him a glance.

Just when he thought things were bad between the two of you, it just got worse

With nothing but increased load on his shoulders, he went back to do his job.

—

“What’s wrong with you?” Kenma looked at Kuroo with eyebrows knitted together in irritation.

“What?” Kuroo put down the controller to face him.

“You barged in here and forced me to play but you’re not even focused.”

Kuroo threw his head back on the couch. It has been a while since Kuroo came over, but Kenma knew it wasn’t the lack of game time that was making him play like a noob. It was so obvious that his mind was somewhere else when he’d blankly stare at the enemy already approaching ahead of him.

“Why are you really here?”

Kuroo sighed and spoke with a bored voice, “We had drunken sex, then she told me she loves me.”

Kenma just stared at him. It’s not like he didn’t know that you two had that kind of relationship before, but hearing it directly from Kuroo made him a bit awkward since three of you were friends. Kuroo could’ve just left out the sex detail. It’s not like he didn’t know that it was about to happen that night.

But he shouldn’t be focusing on that detail. If you finally confessed to him as he pushed you to, then Kuroo would’ve been stupidly happy. So why is Kuroo here bothering him? Did you two fight or whatever?

“So why are you here?” he asked again since Kuroo didn’t really answer his question.

“She didn’t mean it. She said she was ‘lonely’ so she projected those feelings at me because she was drunk and I was available dick at the moment,” Kuroo said impassively but gave a wry laugh after.

“Are you saying that you’re still not together until now?”

“What made you think we got together?”

Kenma gritted his teeth from his frustration turning into irritation. He let it pass that Kuroo left him in that party because he presumed that you two finally ended the ludicrous, almost there but not really romantic pursuit that has been going on since he met you. That’s what he thought since Kuroo hasn’t contacted him for some time.

But looking at his friend, he already knew that somehow, things were even worse between you two.

All this time, he didn’t say anything to Kuroo because he was not in the position to do so. It was you and Kuroo’s business, not his. Even though Kuroo has been his best friend for years now and even though you two were painfully dumb to notice each other’s feelings, he didn’t intervene. He trusted that you two will work things out on your own.

He was gravely mistaken.

Kuroo looked lost more than ever. He overestimated his friend. He deemed Kuroo smart on all occasions, but he seemed to dumb a bit when it involved you. Why is he waiting for you to be the catalyst of your relationship? If he’d just cough it up already, then the whole ordeal would be over already.

You and Kuroo’s relationship is like a badly designed game with overly dramatic cutscenes that were just there to prolong the story. It should’ve been long over a year ago if Kuroo was not as stupid as he was.

He didn’t want to divulge any of your secrets, but he wanted to see a good ending for you two. So he’s going to leave a piece of crumb for the two of you to stop making bad decisions that could lead to a bad route. If that doesn’t do it, then that’s it for you two. He won’t care anymore.

“Remember the night when I left my keys and you forced me to go to that shabby bar. I bumped into her on the way out. She saw you ...ugh,” he paused for a while to think of a word that wasn’t so vulgar.

“Yeah, yeah. She saw me making out with some random girl. She told me.” Kuroo interjected before he could even finish mulling over what word to use.

Kenma didn’t expect that you’d admit that to Kuroo. Even when you were about leave, you clearly told him to never tell him.

“You should’ve seen her. She looked really heartbroken that I felt so bad for her. She cried a lot when we talked in her car.”

The slow turn of Kuroo’s head towards him let him know that you left out that part when you told him about the incident.

“Guess she didn’t tell you about that.”

Kuroo always wondered how you and Kenma had this familiarity wherein he wasn’t aware of the source. He just accepted that maybe you two just got that comfortable to each other with all the time you’ve spent playing and hanging out with him.

Now it makes sense. Kenma was there when he first fucked things up with you.

At the time, he had an inkling that you would tell him that you love him or something. But he didn’t think you’d actually do it. He thought he was just being egoistic because you were a slice of heaven that he could only taste but not possibly have. So he always assumed that non-sexual feelings were just out of the question and he never pondered on it until that night, making him uncertain of how he really felt about you.

When he was still irresolute of his own feelings, you were already certain of your own.

Because of that, he unknowingly caused you enough pain to make you cry.

He was itching to ask Kenma why he didn’t tell him, but that’s the least of his concerns right now.

So many questions came to his mind from what Kenma just disclosed.

Do you still feel the same now?

Did you actually mean your intoxicated confession. If so, why did you deny it?

Did he not make you feel that he cared for you more than just a friend?

Did you think he was seeing Kanoka? Were you really jealous as he thought?

You were friends. You, yourself, were the one who pushed that concept for you two. You could’ve asked him, or at least, let him speak when he ran after you.

Instead, you distanced yourself from him. You didn’t answer his calls and texts. You were doing what you did, then the next thing he knew was you were already gone.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered to himself before focusing his gaze back on Kenma.

“Do you know why y/n left before?”

Kenma pursed his lips as he looked away, avoiding his stifling stare. “Didn’t you ask her about that?”

“She didn’t tell me,” he lied. He knew the answer, but Kenma might have a different one, the real one. You did confide with him before. You might have told him other things too.

With an infuriated groan, Kenma took his phone out and scrolled for a few seconds. When Kenma found whatever it is that he was looking for, he threw his phone to Kuroo.

It was a text message from you.

‘Hey Kenma. I’m leaving. I hate having feelings for Kuroo, so I need to go away to forget. I’m that pitiful haha. Even so, please don’t tell him about our conversation that night. And thanks for being there. Bye! :)’

He read the text five more times to make sure that every single word meant what he thought they meant. Then he returned the phone to Kenma.

He placed his elbows on his knees and put his hands together to cover the lower half of his face.

You left because of him?

He took a deep breath as he moved his hands to tuck his whole face.

He fought the urge to ponder on the what-ifs in his head. He’ll do that some other time, but right now, he needs to focus on the present than the past.

The mosaic of events was starting to fall into place, and even though there are missing fragments, he could already see the bigger picture.

It made his stomach drop.

You were following the same pattern you did a year ago. That means you were about to run away again. You’re going to disappear on him again without saying anything.

His hands went all the way up his head, brushing his hair away from his face as he pressed down his fingertips on his scalp.

No no no no no no no.

He can’t let that happen.

“I have to go,” he stood up and bolted to the door before Kenma could even react.

It’s only been two days since your last encounter. He’d like to think that that wasn’t enough time for you to pack up and go to another side of the world.

Before starting the engine of his car, he dialed your phone again. It’s still ringing, but you still won’t answer.

He quickly types a rushed “Wher r yu” before driving off, hoping that you’d reply while he’s on the way.

He tried to keep himself from overspeeding to reach your place while he reasoned with himself that it’s very improbable for you to leave just like that.

When he reached your place without hearing from you, he was almost sprinting to reach the front desk. He wasn’t with you, so he wasn’t allowed to just go in.

His breathing was labored when he reached the receptionist.

“Who are you visiting, sir?” The staff asked politely.

“L/n, Y/n. 707c,” he answered as quickly as he could.

They immediately gave him a civil smile, already knowing the answer to his query. “Sir, Ms. L/n left an hour ago.”

He felt his heart drop down to his gut.

He was too late.

“Thanks,” he said out of courtesy even though he wanted to bask in silence from what was happening.

He lost you again.

Even though you tried not to think about it, your last encounter with Kuroo just kept playing over and over in your mind. It gave you nothing but unpleasant sentiments for both Kuroo and yourself.

You felt awful for what you did to Kuroo at that hotel. It was a terrible thing to do, and you were very much aware of that.

Even though you want to apologize, you don’t know how to justify why you did what you did without revealing how hurt you were that he was dating someone else now. There’s no point in doing the confession crap anymore. It will only worsen your already battered emotional and psychological being.

Still, he didn’t deserve that.

But when he called you ‘kitten’ like everything was the same as it used to be, you began to drastically lose control of your feelings. Your misery overwhelmed you. A second longer around him, and you’d have crumbled in his presence.

When you got home and calmed down after a good while, it didn’t slip your mind that you might have gotten the wrong idea about Kuroo and the girl at the hotel . But you didn’t want to have false hopes anymore. It was what made things unbearable.

It’s what made you want to run away.

That would solve everything instantly. You wouldn’t have to contemplate anything anymore. You wouldn’t have to go through the awkwardness of facing him again. .

It would be so easy for you.

You could leave anytime. You did have brand contracts in the country, but nothing binding. When you go back to the US, your career won’t be starting from zero.

You’d be restarting your life again without Kuroo. But for real this time. You won’t be coming back.

You stop in the middle of the dimly lit path you were trudging on. You don’t know how long it’s been since you went out.

You decided to go for a walk because being in your own bed with unwelcome mental images of Kuroo underneath you did not help the situation in any way.

You hoped that you’d tire yourself out until there was something else in your mind other than your current predicament. Although the stroll didn’t do much to wear you out since you’re used to standing and walking even on high heels.

So there you were, wandering aimlessly at night, hoping for a little bit of peace since your very own room was no longer a safe haven.

Really, you should just pack up and go.

You started to head back to your unit with that decision.

“I hate myself,” you mumbled into the coldness of the air when you noticed that you were barely covering any distance with how slow you were moving. You dreaded going back home because that meant you had to leave. Despite the never ending complications with Kuroo, your silly heart still cries out for him.

Since when have you been such a martyr?

Last time, you had no problems walking away from him even if that meant stopping university and turning modeling, something you weren’t really passionate about, into a full time job. Now that you have nothing to lose, that’s when you struggled to fly away?

You lost count of how many times your phone has been vibrating the whole night. If you really wanted to ignore him, you could’ve just blocked him. Instead, you let him call and text you non-stop for it consoled you. You liked that he still cared.

But for the first time tonight, you took out your phone.

You let it vibrate in your hand as you stared at the photo of his caller ID. It was a selfie of him winking, trying hard to look sexy but ended up looking like a joke. He took it when you left your phone when you had to use the comfort room while bumming around at Kenma’s place. You only saw the image when it popped up when he called you after getting home that day.

You haven’t seen the photo in a while. It made you smile a little.

Maybe it was time to answer it.

You extended your thumb to the answer button when a loud honk made you look to your left where the sound came from.

You weren’t aware of it, but you stopped right in the middle of a small intersection. You put back your phone in your pocket and turned to the vehicle.

You couldn’t really see much from the headlights that were blinding you. Still, you give a curt bow to apologize for being in the way.

You were about to turn back to the direction of your place when you heard the door of the car open.

‘Please, let it not be one of those raging drivers.’

You have no energy to deal with pesky people who think they have the right to tell people off just because they’re the ones behind the wheel.

You squinted your eyes to make out the driver’s expression as he went out, but the light greatly obstructed your vision.

It was when they switched off the headlights that you were able to adjust your eyesight

They didn’t bother closing the door and straight up marched towards you, their profile coming to view halfway from where you were.

Kuroo.

If only you saw him immediately, you would have had more time to process things and decide how you should deal with him.

But with him getting nearer and nearer and your mind not coming up with a course of action you should take, each footfall closer he took added to your perturbation.

Even though you know it's futile with him only an arm span away, you turned to where you were facing earlier and decided to escape from him.

Even though you didn’t have the courage to start anew without him, you were also not yet prepared to confront him face to face yet.

But as you lunged to scram away, he was able to grasp your wrist, rendering you helpless as he yanked you with enough force for you to topple on his chest. Your free hand flies to his bicep instinctively for support as he secures you with his other arm snaking around your waist.

With your bodies pressed to each other and his head lowered beside your ear, you could feel how hard he was heaving, as if he’d been pacing for quite some time.

“Stop running the fuck away from me,” he said in almost a whisper that caused your heart to beat wildly in your chest. Has he been actively looking for you this whole time?

He was the first to recover while you’re still shocked from what’s happening. He lifted his head as let go of your wrist, but still kept you in place with his other hand still firmly planted on your side.

“Y.n.”

“What?” You responded but didn’t dare look at him. You kept your head leveled while you tried to distract yourself from how it felt like home to be held this close by him again.

His hand that was previously on your wrist went to your chin, but he put no effort to make you meet his gaze.

“If I tell you I love you, will you look my way already?”

Part 8 | Part 10 | m.list

A/N:

Thank you for your patience and sorry for the long wait. I know. I know. I said this was going to be the last chapter, but I felt like if I condense everything in this chapter, I'll blow everyone's brains out (including mine).But honestly, I felt like this stretch was needed yk.I promise I'll do everything to wrap things up nicely in Chapter 10Chapter 10 will be the LAST CHAPTER (istg). I already started writing it and have outlined halfway through it.

Taglist (those in bold can’t be tagged) @lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @arendizzle @phantomneko0 @ysatrap @babythotshq @ameliaxo @miiy @kurooscoochie

#kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo fanfic #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction

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