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bakugoushotwife · 1 year

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kinktober day three: mirror kink

>>> day three already woot woot! i hope you all are loving it so far, because i know i am! this is past me in the notes but it seems like these pieces are gonna get longer everyday at this rate lmfao. i picked keigs for the mirror because birb need luv

>>> starring: keigo takami (hawks) x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: brief daddy use, doggy, highly emotional tbh i'm actually sorry, teasing, praise, pet names. >>>wc: 3.5k >>> event masterlist

keigo loves planning nights like these. you’re his special person, and his favorite pastime is making sure you know it. every so often, sometime around payday, he’ll come home with bags on bags, a dopey grin covering his face as he sashays to the bedroom of your shared apartment. he just can’t wait to show you what he got you this time, exclusively keeping his high-paying pro-hero job because it allows him to spoil his girlfriend with lavish riches.

you weren’t high maintenance at all. at least, you didn’t start out that way. you were just you, a simple civilian that worked at the hospital he was brought into during the war with all for one. you were an adorable bedside nurse, sweet and careful in all the ways you tended to his wounds and listened to his nervous ramblings about his friends and students. you talked him through his anxieties, spending precious hours of your shift soothing him and keeping him company. he watched you get in trouble time and time again for messing the shift rotation up with your habit of staying by his side. it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him, to genuinely listen and to touch him with care, a worry an affection in your eyes he wasn’t sure he had seen from anyone before.

it was no surprise that he kept in touch with you once he was discharged from the hospital. and luckily, to his relief, you offered to support him through rehabilitation, helping him with his fittings for his prosthetics and keeping his spirits high when his self-worth was at its very lowest. keigo never had someone to call his, and the first time he met you, that was the last thing on his mind. but you were still there, months later, giving him the idea to try swords and katanas as replacements for his sharp wings. it wasn’t long until he was back on the battlefield using all the support items and your suggestions to make him feel like hawks again. he was still covered with burn scars, but they seemed less mangling than before. it was probably all those salves you put on him, your healing hands doing more for his heart and mind than his body at times.

so when the war was won, and it was time to say thank you for all the things you had done for him, he found himself taking you on expensive dates and paying for your hair appointments when you casually mentioned a new look you wanted to try. he caught himself picking out nail colors and shoes–at one time they were nike’s but now they were prada or jimmy choo. not that he minded, in fact, it was his insistence that you started expanding your palette to the expensive side anyhow. you were more than content to hold his heart and let him pay for your facials, but your whiny boyfriend practically begs for you to take his card and spend every dollar.

you learned early on, if you didn’t spend it yourself, he would do this, take the day away from you, raiding the mall for anything new you didn’t already have hanging in your room-sized closet. you could hear the rustling of the paper and plastic bags rubbing against each other, a knowing smile spreading across your cheeks. and sure, maybe months ago you were just a humble nurse. but keigo’s constant babying may or may not have created a small spoiled brat. you sit up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to greet your loving partner, squealing when his excited eyes and crinkled up nose peek around the corner with a wide grin.

“guess what i got you.” he titters, revealing the evidence of his shopping. he holds his other arm out to accept your waiting hug, stepping close enough to the bed for you to throw your arms around him in greeting. you looked so cute in your silk pajamas, just waiting in your shared bed for him to return to you. you’ve been able to reduce the amounts of shifts you take at the hospital now that you barely have any of your own bills to pay, and that was being generous. he usually paid those too, but you refused to go jobless until you had a ring—and well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be much longer. you had a fresh maintenance day yesterday, the highlights of your hair freshly toned, your brows waxed and tinted, a new set of lashes and nails–you look too good to be true like always, like you deserve for being so good to him. you’re perfect, and he cannot wait to see how you look in the things he bought you, keigo’s special girl.

you hum playfully in thought, pressing your silken crop-top bound chest against his. he can tell you don’t have a bra on, and the thought delights him. you rarely wore anything but your slutty pajamas or the special selection of lingerie he had curated for you. one he was excited to add to tonight. you giggle and press a kiss to his stubble covered jaw, and throw out your best guess. “hmmm, shoes?”

he chuckles, tucking some loose strands of your hair back behind your ear so he could admire your saccharine smile. he hums, nodding. you were right after all, that was part of it. “mhm, good, my little dove. what else?”

you smile under the praises, trying to eye the bags as he snakes his arm around your waist, setting them on the bed for you. “jewelry?” you offer with an arched brow, watching his face for a hint. his amber eyes gleam with pride—and you knew you were right again. he nods, his calloused hand sneaks under your skimpy top and the warm touch makes you press yourself further into his leather and whiskey scented chest.

“the prettiest. i think you’ll like it, lovebird.” he grins, squeezing your hip. “do you know what else i got my pretty girl?” he coos, reaching for a big black dolce & gabbana bag, containing a pretty bowed box. he always paid them extra to wrap it like a christmas gift, watching your face light up as you pulled the ribbon free always melted his heart a little. he passes the box over to you for that exact reason, returning his arm around your back to watch you open it.

you squeal excitedly, giving his jaw another quick peck. you tug the pale bow off the box with great care, and his smile grows. inside lays a beautiful black bra and panty set, one he no doubt wants you to model for him. you gasp at the pieces, lacy and strappy, decorated with black dots against the sheer balconette style mesh. the thong was just a pathetic little triangle piece, mostly to say you had something on, if you had to guess. you beam up at him, giving him a proper kiss on the lips to signify your approval.

“thank you daddy, it’s so beautiful! you’re too good to me!” you sing, freeing the lingerie of their confines to splay it out on your bed. he chuckles and shakes his head.

“oh i could never even give you what you deserve, sweetness.” he hums, reaching for the tiffany & co bag. he holds it out for you next, letting you fish out the boxes inside. for this, he sits on the bed before you, hands tucked into the pockets of his tan coat, smirking up at his darling love. you peer at him over the pile of little teal boxes in your hand, arching your brow. he only chuckles, urging you to open it with his suggestive glare. he’s undressing you with his bedroom stare already, just waiting for you to put on all your pretty gifts so he could further appreciate you in them. you notice him shifting around, trying to hide the bulge he always gets from watching you jump around and celebrate how much he loves you. it was adorable, he couldn’t help but derive pleasure from it.

you quickly tear into these three boxes, finding a pure diamond choker, bracelet, and matching stud earrings waiting to be adorned by your perfect body. you gasp at him, shaking your head in shock. you know how expensive these had to be, and you refused to accept such a crazy gift—especially paired with other things! as spoiled as he’s made you, you still look at him in disbelief.

“what? i saw you looking at these last time. my name is hawks, after all, babygirl.” he winks, plucking the necklace from the box and turning his index in a circle to have you turn around for him in order to dangle the choker around your neck. he clasps the hook and then puts the bracelet on the wrist closest to him, leaving the earrings up to you. he turns you back to him by the shoulders, grinning valiantly–but you can see the borderline hunger lurking beneath. his siren gaze darts over to the dainty fabric still laying stiff and undisturbed on the bed. “open the last box, ‘nd then i wanna see everything altogether.”

he bites down on his bottom lip in anticipation as he passes you the final bag, a big paper bag from—you knew what these must be immediately, and it has you squealing with joy, as you knew exactly why he saved this gift for last. “keigo, you shouldn’t have, i really cannot believe you!” you shift your weight from foot to foot, pulling the slim black box out of the paper bag, pushing the lid off with haste.

he still sits next to you, his hands sprawled out behind him so he could lean back now, bionic wings still attached from the day. he would only remove them before sleeping, still incredibly insecure and lost without his real ones. he admired your giddiness, this emotion flowing from you was exactly the reason he would do whatever it takes to keep gifts like these flowing. you dangle the pricey so kate style red bottoms at him, jumping with glee. you nearly tackle him backward with the force of your arms around his neck, screaming your thanks in his ear. he only chuckles and wraps his arms around you in response, lightly slapping your ass to make you yelp.

“now go and put everything on—been waiting to see you in it all day.” he pouts, jutting his chin towards your walk in closet. in all fairness, it was a second bedroom keigo had converted to a walk in for you. it was decorated with several mirrors along one wall, allowing you to get all the best angles of your outfits and accessories that your boyfriend no doubt provided. you snatched the newest goodies up and scampered off to get changed, feeling the warmth building in your chest and stomach just from the way he looks at you. you knew he had struggled with his own appearance since you met him, and you hated that. sometimes you wish you could spoil him the same way he does you, but he always swears your affection makes him feel like he’s still soaring on top of the world.

you complete the jewelry trio by putting in the stunning studs he got, simple but huge cut diamonds perfectly accenting your features. then you tug on your new set and slip into your shoes, admiring your own reflection in the ballet studio-esque mirroring. maybe he admired you so much because he no longer could look at himself with the same fondness that you gaze at yourself—or him— with. you were stunning, that was indisputable, but it made you sad that your once notoriously cocky boyfriend now shrunk away from the sight of his own appearance. a physical lightbulb may as well have popped up over your head. “mm, daddy? wanna come help me with the buckle?”

he should have known it was a set up. you’ve put on much more involved outfits before without his assistance. when he strolls in, ready to lend a helping hand, you’re already on the floor on your hands and knees—and the lingerie he picked looks heavenly. he can see why the louboutins were so sought after, elongating your sexy legs and exposing the signature red bottoms to him from this angle. you wiggle your perky ass, and he salivates, the semi he’s been fighting turning into a full on boner. you’re looking back over your shoulder at him with that devilish smirk on your face, and it’s then he realizes you’ve tricked him into fucking you in front of your mirror wall. and to his surprise, his cock jumps in his pants as he meets your eyes through one of the panes. you’re unimaginably gorgeous, dripping in diamonds that sparkle in the soft lighting. he can see straight down that bra, and before he can doubt himself, he’s yanking his hard cock free from his sweats and tugging on it roughly. his breathing is heavy already, the worry starting to creep in. at times it was hard to be intimate with you, not because he didn’t absolutely crave you in almost a sinister sense, but because of his own insecurities. he knows you were familiar with him before, though you only met him after the damage was done. yet still, he can’t help but worry the scars covering his face and body will gross you out one day.

“c’mere daddy…wanna look at you like this, make you see how pretty you are.” you wiggle your ass for him again, the globes taunting him into compliance. when he lowers himself to his knees he can tell how needy you are. it must turn you on a bit to think about him taking you like this, though he can’t deny his own curiosity at the idea. his hands smooth down the curve of your back, all the way to the nape of your neck and back down to grasp your wide hips to steady himself. he licks his lips as you wiggle in his grip, making a mewl of anticipation. “please, look…i think you’re so pretty…i like the marks, makes you look all handsome and tough,” you whine so sweetly it makes his cock throb. “‘nd i need you so bad, the you i see in the mirror right now, is the sexiest man alive.”

he chortles and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of blush sting his cheeks. he peels his shirt off, discarding it somewhere in the vicinity. “yeah, yeah, hush.” he beckons, spreading your cheeks with the help of you scooting your knees further for him. it did boost his ego to hear you talk so fondly of him. you didn’t miss the old pro-hero you looked up to—you love him as is. he knows it, he’s sure of it, it’s why he spoils you relentlessly, but hearing you say it did things to him.

“nuh-uh, i wan’ you to see…breaks my heart to hear you complainin’ ‘bout how you look…’cause you’re perfect.” you pout, wiggling back on his shaft. he helps guide himself inside, sheathing to the hilt. you do spoil him, you just didn’t realize it. the way you love him was all he needed, with the sweet words spilling out of your mouth and the choking grip your cunt has around him—the view of your face melting in the mirror felt like special treat.

you moan out your delight, throwing your ass back against him to get him to start moving, the view of your pouty face while in doggy kept him paralyzed and utterly drunk, too busy admiring all of his gifts against your skin and the warmth of being inside you to remember to do anything about it. he chuckles breathily when he feels your recoil, giving you an affectionate slap to the bum. he starts to move in tandem to your little bounces, his eyes fluttering shut at the way you squeeze and release his curved cock. it feels so good, you can identify the veins and ridges as they drag through your walls. you don’t close your eyes though, no, your eyes are locked on his form in the mirror. he’s unreal, the slow pace at which he fucks you just driving you crazy. he’s a god, golden and chiseled, his smile enough to give you life on your darkest days. you wanted him to admit it.

you crawl forward a little, out of his reach, off his cock. he frowns at you in the mirror. “come back.” he pouts, making grabby hands for you.

you giggle, shaking your head. “not ‘til you smile at yourself and say ‘i’m the prettiest pro hero with the prettiest princess in the whole world.’” you say, sticking your tongue out at him in the mirror, admiring his naked form behind you. he huffs, letting his gaze drift between your face in the mirror and your ass in front of his face. he crosses his arms over his burned chest, arching a brow at you.

“you know, i could say you’re being ungrateful.” he whines, not able to fully challenge you. you wiggle your ass at him again and arch your challenging brow back at him. for the second time, he huffs. but he realizes that there’s no use fighting you. he learned that lesson when you were his nurse. he would give in, or else. he lets his gaze drift back to your round ass and dripping pussy just waiting for him to come back to you, and he sighs. he loves starting slow just to tease you, but it seems like you have your own master plan in mind. keigo’s eyes drift back to the mirror, where he sees your eagerly awaiting face. you look over his face and body with all the adoration and affection in the world, and he feels that with your confidence, he can believe in himself and give you some peace of mind. he meets his own eyes in the mirror and nods. he certainly has come a long way, and he may never return to his former glory, but if this is the man you love—that’s enough. more than enough. he can be happy to be that man, your man. he smiles at you, then at himself. “i’m the prettiest pro-hero.” he nods with a broad smile as his gaze falls back down to you. “and i have the prettiest princess in the whole world.” he concludes, to which you coo and applaud him. he walks forward on his knees, greedily tugging you back on him, plunging his length back deep with a relieved moan.

he doesn’t waste any time by teasing, either, holding the creases of your hips like they were his own personal handlebars, he slams into your heat, the grip of your cunt so choking he can’t control the loud groans he lets loose. you have to actively focus on holding yourself up, entranced with the sight of his pussy-drunk face, high on pleasure. his cock angles so perfectly in this position, abusing your cervix just the way he likes. it has your limbs shaking as you struggle to keep absorbing the force of his hip and your moans bordering on screams. he just loves you so much, he has to spoil the woman who’s given him everything. he knows you love him like this, that’s why you crawled into that position in the first place.

“that’s my girl, taking it so good for me.” he nods his approval, his arm dipping to support your hips. thanks to the mirror, he can see the tears drop from the corner of your eyes, the wavering of your arms as you struggle to hold yourself up. you nod to his praise, squealing extra loud, you love being his girl. his hand dips to rub a messy pace against your clit, groaning at how you jerk and arch in response. “fuck, i can see everything like this, little dove. you look so pretty…all the diamonds suit my jewel just right.” he pants between punishing strokes, even though he’s giving you the reward of a lifetime.

you nod, forcing your eyes open to watch him rut into you, mouth open in a silent scream while his jaw drops in awe. you’re absolutely perfect. you fold over, falling completely against his arm, clenching down on him so hard it nearly hurt him. you whimper, “gon’ cum daddy, you’re s’good…”

he nods egging you on as he presses into your nerves harder, giggling as your legs shake and give out completely. it sends him over the edge, his eyes glued to your face in the mirror as he shoves his seed deep, continuously fucking it deeper with his hard strokes, only letting up when he was sure you couldn’t take another pump. he smiles at your fucked out appearance, hair knotted and sprawled out, the lingerie shifted just enough to let him enjoy all of you, your tearstained cheeks—and thighs. he leans over to kiss your shoulderblade, staying there to catch your breath. for a minute, all there is to be heard is panting, but soon keigo chuckles again, and scoops you out of the floor.

“now it’s time for the real princess treatment, lovebird.” he hums, taking you towards the bathroom for a fresh bubble bath of your choosing.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesmha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #hawks x reader #mha hawks #hawks #bnha hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #takami keigo x reader #mirror x hawks #day three

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lipstickghoulie · 8 months

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Crimson Plots

•Astarion/female Tav (lots and lots of menstrual and blood talk, period oral, period sex, dirty talk, Astarion being manipulative since this is set around act one, PIV, creampie. Over 5k words. Could be seen as a sequel to my “Loss of Innocence” drabble or not. Version with breeding kink is available on my ao3)•

The first time that Astarion had sniffed out that Tav was on her menstrual cycle was the same night that they made camp after their rather tumultuous initial impression. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, beyond being moody since it was clear that she was on the tail end of it since the smell was so faint as to be nearly imperceptible even to Astarion’s nose. He knew that, even as charming as he could be under the right circumstances, there was no possible way that he could see himself talking his silver tongued self into her pants before the time had passed for him to try such a rare treat… especially since he had been holding a dagger against her neck earlier that day. His luck, or lack thereof at the time, had made him even more broody even though it was doubtful that he would have gone against Cazador’s edicts that early on.

Cazador’s rules about not drinking from thinking creatures, unfortunately, had extended to women on their periods. The few spawn that had been willing to test how serious that their master had been about that warning were found out very quickly and been made into violent, stomach-turning examples that still made Astarion shudder to think about to this day. How exactly the bastard had known that those unlucky spawn had indulged on the fine red between someone’s legs was anyone’s guess and not something that Astarion had felt wasn’t worth his time to poke the boundaries of personally when he was already frequently on Cazador’s shit list in those days anyhow. Why add more tortures and indignities on the pile?

But a few weeks later, Astarion was still a free man and away from Cazador’s rules and compulsions. He had already fed on Tav’s lovely neck and nothing had happened. He had finagled himself into her bed and hopefully her loyalties. Things were definitely looking up for him… and he began realizing that this chance might come up again with him having full opportunity to lap at a different source of her blood. Why not break this rule too? He liked eating pussy, especially Tav’s sweet pussy, so he couldn’t stop thinking about how much more delicious it might be while juicy with her sanguine fluids.

Some might uncharitably call what Astarion started doing as scheming. The fact that in the days leading up to when he guessed that her period might be starting, he became a lot more amenable to Tav’s do-gooding inclinations. That he had a placidly encouraging smile on his face instead of his typical scowl when she glanced at him after helping some pathetic and downtrodden soul for free, that he would give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder (even if half-hearted) instead of crossing his arms over his chest at the thought of Tav assisting these people who didn’t deserve her generosity. She didn’t seem to catch on that he might be up to something and merely seemed grateful to not deal with any pushback on her decision making. Some people would definitely call what he was attempting as plotting when he started squirreling away the choicest food supplies when they would be looting all of those thousands of tedious barrels and wooden trunks during their adventures. A cinnamon roll here, a shiny apple there… all tucked away into Astarion’s pack for him to kindly present to her later with a tender smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she responded with a huge hug and watery, appreciative smile that seemed a bit too emotional for the gift of simple snacks, Astarion could barely hide his grin. She seemed hormonal, even her scent changing into something headier and muskier, and hopefully that meant that his desired goal wasn’t too far off.

And when the next day came around and he could catch a whiff of blood coming from Tav’s tent after they started making camp for the night? The smile on his face was definitely predatory and sharp. Astarion ducked into his own tent just to grab a fluffy towel, that he had nicked for this express purpose the last time that they had traded with a merchant, before sauntering over to her own canvas enclosure.

He almost felt bad when he lifted up her tent flap without greeting her first and walked right into Tav getting changed, her nudity on full display. Every soft curve of her physique, every enticing muscle, all calling to him as she yelped Astarion’s name in shock at the intrusion.

“Sorry, my love,” Astarion said immediately, though his inflection spelled out that he was anything but sorry and was, in fact, enjoying the view. The iron rich, cloying scent of blood was even stronger in here and it was enough for his mouth to feel parched in sheer, reeling want. Hells, if that’s what her moon’s blood smelt like, it must taste even better than he had been imagining. “I caught the scent of blood and I thought that I should come check on you, make sure that you aren’t injured?”

Tav winced, both in embarrassment and in pain, touching a spot on her lower stomach as she seemed to prioritize that over trying to be modest over her bare frame. She paused before stuttering out quietly, “Ah, uh, no. I’m not hurt. I mean, not really. It’s my… period? And while I have cramps, I’m not, like, dying or anything…”

She stopped talking and chewed on her bottom lip, face pinking in humiliation. Tav was so adorable in his eyes right now. So bashful over normal bodily functions and clearly having no idea that this was practically catnip to a vampire.

Astarion stalked forward, giving her his most sympathetic pout and sheepdogging her over to where her simple and plain bedroll lay sprawled out. He murmured, “Oh, pet, that is so unfortunate. I really hate to see you in pain like this. If you’d permit me to, I could help you out, chase those mean old cramps right away? I have heard that pleasure can make them subside for a while.”

The towel was already being unfurled in his hands and laid out over her bedroll to protect it from any messes that may occur. Astarion was nothing if not benevolent about spilled blood. Tav blinked at him a few times in confusion but didn’t protest as he took her shoulders in his hold and delicately guided her down to sit on the protective layer of cotton.

“You mean… like sex? I thought that men didn’t like doing that when women were in this state,” Tav squeaked out, puzzled and blushing even harder at his offer. “I would hate it if you were disgusted by me after this, Astarion.”

Obviously he meant to do a lot more than sex but as always, Tav’s naivety was so twee.

Astarion crooned, nearly sugary in tone, “I could never be disgusted by you, dear Tav. I want to do this and I’d love to help you out. Consider it a favor between lovers. But only if you want to, of course.”

That last part was one that he actually could say that he meant. Astarion might have been a tad grumpy if she said no but he’d accept it with no ill will. But how he hoped that she’d say yes and he knelt in front of her in anticipation, unable to stop his heated gaze from flicking over the apex where legs met and where all of her tempting sanguine offerings pooled where he couldn’t quite see yet.

There was a beat of silence, then two, then Tav nodded and laid back a little. Her movements seemed unsure but it was more out of self consciousness than reluctance to let him do this, which was good enough for him. Astarion hastily pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it into the corner of her tent to recover later. It wouldn’t do to stain it when they both knew already that he was already a messy eater when it came to only her neck. With a beaming and victorious grin, he tapped her knees apart so he could survey his prize.

She was even more jawdroppingly stunning than he thought she’d be, with her center tearing up with the most impressive red drops, like rubies calling to him and glimmering under the light. Some of her blood hued darker in some areas, almost black, and he couldn’t wait to test out if the difference in color meant a difference in flavor. Astarion scooted closer until he was close enough for his breath to ghost over her responsive folds and cool the liquid there, making Tav shiver.

His tongue chased the thick river of blood up her upper thigh, clearing a path up her skin that revealed a cute little vein in her flesh. Astarion immediately nipped at with his sharp teeth, unable to resist marking somewhere that he knew he would return to later, like a reminder to himself. Tav’s moan broke off in an admonishing shriek of surprise, though it quieted when Astarion soothed the bite with another long, lingering lick and batted his eyelashes at her contritely from his spot between her legs.

Gods, he knew that he should be careful. With the metallic and deliciously bright pop of her monthly blood coating his tastebuds, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that he was doing this solely for Tav’s benefit and simply doing her a favor that she would have to repay to him at a later time. All she’d have to do is look below the waist and she would catch on to how Astarion’s straining erection pushed at the front of his breeches and begged for relief, precum dotting the dark fabric in a way that he couldn’t ever remember happening before. Normally his arousal was not dripping down the length of his dick as if it was crying with want at the mere thought of being buried in a tight, needy hole.

“Is this helping at all, pet?” Astarion asked in a carefully put-together tone of concern. He was just trying so hard to help her out, after all. “Or do you need a bit… more?”

And without waiting for an answer, just to give Tav a small taste of what he was offering while he received a taste of his own in return, Astarion made confident eye contact with her as he slowly dragged the tip of his tongue up the frills of her clit.

The way that Tav moaned out his name was more beautiful than any song he’s ever heard, more of a masterwork than the best blade forged by the most skilled of blacksmiths. The breathless and shocked undertone was something extra that made his dick twitch against the fabric prison of his pants. Thankfully he had been too eager when plotting out this excursion and had foregone his usual underwear so that was one less barrier. Resigned now that he needed to free himself, Astarion hastily reached down and unlaced the front, finally letting his cock spring free with a sigh of relief. It leaked a few stray drops of clear precum onto the towel underneath them but with how Tav was already starting to paint it crimson as she dripped under his steady attention, he wasn’t too worried about her noticing.

Astarion sweetly pressed a kiss against her clit. Tav tried to jerk away instinctively, her knee almost knocking Astarion in the cheek as her leg reared out. His hands shot back up to grasp her by the upper thighs and firmly hold her open for both his eyes and mouth to devour at his leisure. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more delicious sight as Tav trembling, eyes wide and pupils dilated, as he spread her apart to admire the way her arousal and blood mixed together and drenched her lower lips and down the curves of her ass.

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t it feel good? Aren’t I helping your pretty pussy feel so loved?” Astarion asked innocently, his thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of her thighs as he stared up at her from his kneeling position. “It would be rude to stop me now before I’ve even gotten enough of a taste to satiate me, you know…”

“P-please continue, I just got startled-“ Poor Tav stammered out, cheeks turning an adorable shade of bright pink that made Astarion want to make her even more flustered, just to see how far down that blush might travel.

Astarion was already leaning forward to deliver another mockery of a chaste kiss to her swollen clit. Though he couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out before he pulled back this time to trace the pearl slowly, making sure that some of his saliva drooled out past his smiling fangs to coat it until it was glistening. Oh, it really felt right to him for her to be coated or filled with Astarion’s spit and cum. As much as he was using her for his own purposes, he really did love marking Tav up as his in any form that he could. A traitorous part of his mind slithered and snickered and pointed out how awfully obsessive he was over a woman that he was just using, but Astarion ignored that voice in the back of his head as well as he ever did… if a bit uneasily.

Enough playing with his food. Tav was turned on enough that she was pliable, distracted and surely wouldn’t notice how much fun that Astarion was having. He would prime the pump, so to speak, and then have the sweetest meal that he could ever look forward to. One of his hands fell off of their holding position on her leg to slip between her folds, two fingers sliding right into her slippery, inviting core. Even with how sensitive that Tav probably was right now, he met no resistance so after a few unhurried pumps into her, he added another finger.

Tav’s cunt struggled to take the width of three fingers but much like she did with his cock usually, the greedy slit still stretched and sucked his fingers in wetly. Astarion never forgot in moments like this that he was the only one to ever touch her like this, the only one to ever defile her holes and fuck her, and pride swelled inside of him at the thought. He would make damn sure that he remained the only one to ever possess her so completely too, if he was able to continue using his cunning to stay in her good graces like this even after the illithid threat was taken care of.

Her hands reached out desperately, trying to grab onto Astarion’s forearms so wildly that she nicked him with her nails, her voice shaking and high pitched as he worked at her with his wicked fingers, “A-Astarion, that feels so nice, please…”

“Aw, I know, I know, you poor thing,” Astarion tutted in false sympathy, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head; I’ll take such good care of you and make those pesky cramps go away.”

Tav’s crimson liquid was drenching Astarion’s hands, a mixture of it and her juices running down the planes of his palm and wrist by now. The metallic and animalistic scent of sex and blood was so heavy in the air that Astarion could feel his mouth watering. He knew he’d have blood packed deep under his fingernails after this for days and normally, the thought of anything messing up his perfectly manicured nails would have infuriated him but now? The idea of seeing the reminder of this delightful excursion even while putting a dagger into an enemy’s spine during battle was very appealing indeed.

On the next come-hither movement into her pussy, Astarion’s fingertips glanced upon that spongy section that made her twitch and keen out his name again. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips as he immediately pressed forward harder, increasing his speed between words as he crowed out triumphantly, “Right there, darling? Show me just how great it feels when I touch… you… right… there… my good girl.”

Astarion had made thousands upon thousands of people come before; he had it down to a precise science what he could do to make someone, anyone, lose their composure in minutes. But it never had felt like this before as Tav’s walls squeezed around his fingers and she found her climax. He usually never felt anything at all but with her, he felt smug, excited, hungry… he tried his best to chalk it up to being starving and surrounded by blood even as that small voice deep in his brain laughed at him.

Tav didn’t even have a moment to catch her breath before Astarion was spreading her open again and descending on her. He had delayed his gratification as much as he was willing to now, he wasn’t a patient man and he had been practically saintly in the restraint that he had shown tonight (at least in Astarion’s opinion). He took a few testing licks of the leaking trails of Tav’s cum and life force mixed and gods above and below, it was a good thing that he wasn’t standing otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have crumpled like someone being released from a ‘hold person’ spell.

Her blood was always the best that he had ever supped and that went beyond simple-minded sentimentality at how she had been the first thinking and humanoid creature that he had fed from. It made him feel more awake, almost alive, in addition to tasting like the most bubbly and effervescent (if metallic) wine he had ever enjoyed. It tasted even better right now though and while Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because it was coming from her pussy or because of her orgasm, all that he knew was that he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then caught a clot of blood on the flat of his tongue, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment as he swallowed thickly. It slid down his throat like some sort of exotic jellied syrup and he knew in that moment that the time for teasing was over. Any former illusion that he had of restraint was gone and as dead as he was.

Astarion’s mouth dove to seal over her as he moved now to bully as much of his tongue into her as possible. Her voice seemed far away now, partially because of her thighs trying to push themselves closed around his ears, though that just added to the pleasure for him as her soft skin rubbed against the erogenous points of his ears. Thankfully she seemed to still be very much into this if the garbled cries of “yes” and “Astarion” were any indication. Though the way that her hole clenched and kindly produced more liquid of both arousal and the crimson variety was definitely another sign that Tav did not want him to stop. Not that Astarion was sure that he could, not when he felt drunk on her, addicted past all logical reasoning and rationality, his tongue pistoning into her like something more machine than vampire, his grip desperately trying to pull her closer as her blood ran down his chin and neck like juices being let loose from a freshly bitten peach.

After these dreadful business with the Absolutist cult and everything else was done and dusted, Astarion decided (rather deliriously), that he would have Tav tied up and spread open for his feasting pleasures during her monthly menstruations every month for the rest of their lives. Just a perfect treat, helpless to the ravages of his mouth as he drank his fill of her until his stomach was full and she was limp and mindless from countless orgasms. She was rather squirmy right now so he thought she might even thank him next time if he restrained her and licked at her while he placed her on his face to sit on it. Why not take advantage of how Astarion didn’t need to breathe? Yes, this seemed like a fine plan to him, even if he was normally adverse to planning things out at all.

This was a fantastic position too though, with Tav on her back and Astarion looming over her, even if her hands had become too weak to grab at him further and just clutched at the towel still doing its best to absorb any falling bodily fluids underneath her sweaty frame. Astarion already knew that he would spirit that towel away later under the guise of being helpful and trying to help launder it. Really, it would end up disappearing into his tent for him to hold up against his nose and inhale during the times that he would jerk himself off to this memory, to let the lingering traces of Tav’s fluids guide his mind back to this place mentally when he was alone.

Astarion nudged his nose into the swollen ridge of Tav’s clit on the next thrust of his tongue into her and unexpectedly, that was enough to make her cum again. She whimpered this time instead of wailing as his mouth was rewarded with a gush of sticky, aroused blood. Astarion had enough volume for both of them though as he groaned so loudly into her cunt that he was sure that his tongue vibrated where it was happily trapped within her spasming, gummy walls. His precum was dribbling off of his erection in persistent streams now, even wetting his heavy and wanting balls, and he truly knew that if he didn’t bury his dick deeply and thoroughly into her soon, he would go mad beyond help. She had bewitched him with the tang of her gifted blood and now his brain swirled with nothing but thoughts of Tav, of owning and taking and ravishing her in every position possible (and some that probably weren’t, anatomy-wise).

Almost regretfully, Astarion backed up slightly and let his tongue free from her wonderful cunt, taking one last lap of enjoyment at a cheeky river of blood that had escaped his notice. Tav was starting to sit up, giving him a dopey and grateful smile as she said, “Oh, Astarion, I already feel so much better, my cramps feel like they’re nearly gone, thank you!”

“We’re not done yet,” Astarion growled darkly, pushing Tav back down with an impatient hand shoving between her perky breasts until she flopped onto the bedroll bonelessly. Any pretense of amused condescension and helpfulness was gone as if it had never been there at all, he no longer cared if she thought he was doing her a kindly favor now. He did briefly soothe her shock by running the same fingers that had returned Tav to her laying down position over her stiffened nipples, pulling on them until they ached and her spine arched. She had the cutest tits, Astarion mused to himself almost fondly. He would enjoy spraying his cum over them one day, covering those sensitive nipples with white pearls, if he could ever convince himself to blow his load somewhere other than her welcoming holes.

He couldn’t wait any longer to fuck her though. Astarion yanked off his pants the rest of the way, uncaring as he heard stitches come undone in complaint at the brusque way that he got disrobed. He could always repair any rips later, he reasoned, but he didn’t want to waste any more precious seconds instead of being balls-deep in Tav’s eager and weeping slit. Grabbing the damp base of his dick, Astarion lined himself up with her hole and stuffed himself inside in one brutal motion. Tav cried out, mouth slack and cheeks still so adorably flushed, but didn’t protest at his rough treatment even though she had to be overstimulated by now. Fuck, her pussy was even hotter than normal with it being heated further by both her production of menstrual blood and his amorous attentions and Astarion had to shut his eyes for a moment and just exhale for fear that he’d go over the edge in one embarrassingly short thrust.

“You are so perfect, every time,” Astarion said lowly, giving an experimental push of his cock and smirking when he was reassured that he wouldn’t cum right away. “I could spend the rest of my unlife attempting to stretch out this little cunt and never tire of it.”

“Astarion, you can’t keep talking to me like that, it’s too much,” Tav complained, voice simultaneously pleading with him to stop and to keep going. Poor darling didn’t know what she wanted, Astarion thought to himself, entertained. It’s a good thing that he knew exactly what her body needed.

“Oh, it’s too much? It’s too much for me to tell you how I love how needy and desperate that you are for me and only me? How I love how gorgeous that your pussy looks when it’s trying to fit around my cock?” Astarion purred out, smirking, manhandling her a bit to tilt her hips up just a touch and go back to his former position of holding them open as securely as if his hands were iron manacles. His bruising grasp left stains of her own blood behind on one of her thighs as a pointed reminder of how he had fingered her open and bathed his hand in the generous bounty that the very center of her had offered him.

Tav only cried out shrilly in response and when he felt her flutter all around him, Astarion lost interest in bantering at her much more anyways. Pussy this fantastic, this divine, was surely how Strahd met his downfall, Astarion thought to himself, crazed as he watched blood bubble and well up in the crevice between them as he fucked her. The notion didn’t deter him even a little though as he picked up speed, his hips a blur as he pounded his dick into Tav again and again. He knew she would be feeling this for days to come, struggling to sit down and even walk on their trek to the crèche, and that made a strangled, lustful whine erupt from his throat. He was humiliating himself now with how he was practically drooling as he took her, his hair messy from her thighs ruffling up his typically styled curls, at how shaky his pants of exhaled breath were. To distract her from how much she was driving him to ruin, Astarion looped her legs loosely over the juts of his hips and dragged his hands up her arms until they intertwined with hers.

This wasn’t something he usually did either; holding hands during sex. It felt oddly right, here with Tav, though. Their noses bumping against each other as he lay almost prone on top of her, driving his cock into her with mindless abandon as their eyes locked desperately, as if they could connect with more than just the tadpoles in their skulls, fingers entangled with hers even as one of his was still wet with her blood and desire. Astarion leaned forward and gave her a hesitant kiss for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, unsure if she would be turned off by the remnants of the drying bodily liquids there either but no. She met his kiss as openly and without reservation as when she would ask him for a kiss anywhere else and it made something pinch in his chest where his heart lived.

A few more frenzied thrusts and Tav was grabbing his fingers just as tightly as her pussy clutched at his cock, her eyes wide and surprised as she came yet again. This was the time that pulled him along with her, unable to resist any longer and unwilling to stave off his own pleasure for even a minute further. He could feel his length pulsing seemingly for ages as his hips slowed, spilling what felt like an ocean of semen into her until it spurted out around the sides of his dick. As he delicately started to pull out, it wet her pussy lips so well that Astarion longed to lap at them again and gather up their combined essences in his mouth and experience how they tasted together. He could tell by how disheveled and cock drunk that Tav looked that she was too overstimulated for that right now so he just resolved to try it next time, chuckling at the idea. Instead, he gathered up some of the escaping white strings of his cum, swirled beautifully in some spots by the ruby color of her blood, and pushed it steadily back into her puffy, slick hole where it belonged. She mewled at the sensation on her sore walls but let him do it, too exhausted and fucked out to do much than give Astarion an exasperated look.

He settled back in over her and tucked the top of her head under his chin, rolling them both slightly so then they could both lay on their side comfortably. Astarion couldn’t help but be amazed at how happy he felt in this moment. His vampiric hunger wasn’t completely gone (as it probably never would be as long as he remained a spawn) but it was placated enough to just be a tiny rumble instead of the ravenous, quavering earthquake that it usually was. Even as messy, blood-sticky and cum-tacky as they both were, Astarion felt content and peaceful.

Tav’s voice was small and drowsy as she murmured against his neck, “Thank you for all of that, Astarion. It feels like my cramps are gone completely, you were so right.”

Oh. Yes. He had nearly forgotten that had been his ruse for doing this in the first place.

“Well, I usually am right about most things, darling,” Astarion sniffed haughtily, pulling her in closer against his side as he basked in her warmth and grateful adoration. “Maybe we should make this a frequent occurrence whenever your period comes to visit. I do hate to see you suffer so…”

Tav muttered her agreement and nuzzled further into him peacefully. Astarion smiled and allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the snuggling. He had earned it, being so selfless and helping her out so thoroughly… Astarion couldn’t get through the thought without chuckling. Still, he had manipulated his way into what he wanted yet again, he had Tav at his side and devoted and what more could he want than that?

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #my fanfiction #astarion fanfic #my writing #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfiction #bg3 smut #my fanfics #Astarion smut fanfiction

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quizzicalwriter · 10 months

Note

can you please do a johnny cade x fem!reader smut where they decide to use toys (and there's a lot of squ!rt!ng involved?) ty!

Sunny

Pairing: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Summary: A searing heat wave leaves Johnny with new ideas on how to beat the heat.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Temperature-play, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request! (Also I know it’s not technically toys, but I figured this would work! If you want a full-on toy fic with Johnny just shoot me an ask and I’ll write it!)

Word Count: 3.4k

“It’s 12:05, this is Lee Bayley on Tulsa’s KAKC with the sounds of sunshine!”

Sunshine your ass, whatever hung heavy in the midday sky felt more like a blazing inferno rather than the dainty sun you’d painted in the corner of your childhood drawings. You couldn’t bring yourself to be too peeved at the radio host, the man was likely indoors under heavy air conditioning.

At least he was a damn good DJ, nobody else seemed to be playing a mix of Santana and Van Morrison, not so early in the day anyhow. The hum of bass and methodical drums filled your one-bedroom apartment, the rare wind gust blowing your window blinds against the siding of your wall.

Johnny had hardly given you a moment to beg for a cold shower together before he’d pressed a kiss to your temple that morning, whispering words you didn’t quite catch - all you’d truly caught in your overly hot and tired state that morning had been his promise of something cold when he got back.

You rolled yourself off the muggy bed, kicking your feet in frustration as the top sheet tangled itself around your ankle, as if silently begging you not to leave it under the prying eye of the sun. You were in no mood, so with a grunt you rolled onto the floor, body emitting a soft thud as you came in contact with the shag carpet below.

In nothing but your underwear and an old beaten shirt of Johnny’s you trudged your way into the kitchen, opening up all the windows on your way through the apartment. Your radio softly hummed from your bedroom, some song you didn’t entirely recognize, but found yourself swaying your hips to nonetheless as you bent over to seek something cool in your fridge.

Surprise, surprise. There was nothing. Unless you counted the half-eaten clementine on the right side of the fridge, sitting all pitiful against a half-gallon of milk. As anyone would in their right mind when faced with overbearing summer heat, you closed your refrigerator and opened your freezer, crossing your arms against the frigid plastic before resting your cheek against your propped arms.

The freezer motor buzzed to life, adding to the already abundant noise of the city below pouring through your open windows. You continued humming to the faraway music sounding from your bedroom, losing yourself in the abundance of cool air as you shut your eyes. You’d likely have fallen asleep standing up if it hadn’t been for the slam of the front door, followed by a sing-song whistle, one you knew by heart.

“In here!” You called, not daring to move from your self-created frozen heaven.

“Freezing yourself?” Johnny asked through a gentle laugh, placing down two armfuls of paper bags. You only hummed in reply, tilting your head to the other side to give him a brief smile, one he returned in earnest despite the subtle redness against his cheeks.

“Got you somethin’.” He murmured, tone playful as he moved over to you. Your eyebrows lifted in intrigue, curiosity getting the better of you as you moved from the freezer, the door slamming shut behind you as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“And what’s that?” You asked with a smile.

“A treat.” He responded, rifling through the paper bags before handing you a cup that he’d so diligently wrapped in another paper bag. “Told you I’d get you somethin’ this mornin’, treat to beat the heat - or whatever the hell they say on those commercials.”

You would’ve groaned at his poor imitation of the commercial that plagued your television set, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the ice-cold treat in your grasp. With a giddy laugh, you flipped the top off, an audible, and admittedly dramatic moan leaving you as you spooned a hefty amount of the Icee into your mouth.

“Good right?” He asked, hand gently pushing your hip from the drawer behind you to fetch himself a spoon, digging in alongside you as you nodded. Icee’s were certainly a good way to cool your body down, and you definitely didn’t mind watching as Johnny moved beside you, tilting his head back in cold-induced euphoria.

“Very good.” You murmured around your plastic spoon, eyes watching him intently as he scooped another spoonful of the slushy into his mouth. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the way his face looked when flushed - either way, you were burning up and the Icee was doing little to quell the heat pooling in your stomach.

Oblivious to your plight, Johnny’s eyebrows lifted, metal spoon still in his mouth as he turned around to free a hefty bag of ice from one of the paper bags. You hummed in thanks around your spoon, earning you a quick nod as he pushed the bag toward the back corner of the freezer.

You placed the half-empty cup down behind you, hands slick and wet with condensation. You took your chance, slinking yourself behind Johnny, giving him no time to duck away before reaching your hands up and underneath his shirt, splaying your cold hands against his warm muscles.

“Jesus-“ He cried out, back arching away from your hands as he reached behind himself, pained words turning into pleading laughter as he turned himself around. “Quit it!”

He had more than enough strength to wrestle your arms snug against himself, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to torture him with your overly cold fingertips. But he loved the way your smile would crinkle the skin beside your eyes, how your nose would scrunch. It was precious to him, worth the goosebumps that raced across his skin, the droplets of cool water that raced down to the hem of his jeans - all of it.

In a bid to have you more pliant, he grabbed your forearms, pulling them around himself. You continued laughing, head falling back as you smiled up at him through your laughter-induced tears. He returned your smile, eyes focused on yours as you steadied your breaths. His hands dropped from your arms, instead moving to cup your jaw as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The taste of artificial cherry soared across your tastebuds, along with a sudden chill at the coldness of his tongue. You lifted your arms, draping them around his neck as your tongue moved with his, goosebumps spreading up your forearms at both the fading chill of his tongue paired with the burning lust settling heavily in your lower stomach.

His hands moved from your jaw, tracing along the curve of your waist before resting against the swell of your ass. He gave the plush flesh a harsh squeeze, pulling a surprised squeal from you, one that made him smile into your kiss before resuming his movements.

The bedroom wasn’t far away, but he had no patience, not when you were standing half-dressed in front of him - in his shirt, no less. His fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear, brushing his fingertips along your mound as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“Couch?” He asked, pulling away a fraction to gauge your reaction. When you nodded he backed away, watching with an amused smile as you ran toward the living room. Rather than follow behind you, he turned toward the freezer.

You sunk into the warm fabric of your couch, shallow breaths leaving you in droves as anticipation wore you thin, causing you to soak the thin fabric of your underwear. He reappeared with a glass filled to the brim with ice, condensation already fogging the bottom where his hand rested.

“Gotta cool you down, right?”

You nodded as he moved to sit beside you, placing the glass down on the adjacent coffee table. He then dipped his fingers into the glass, curling the digits around two cubes of ice. Two fingers kept one held firmly against his palm as he held the other between his thumb and index finger, maneuvering himself between your legs, free hand helping your legs to drape over his lap.

“Trust me?” He asked as cool water dropped onto your bare thigh from his palm. You nodded, breath catching in your throat at the plethora of ideas that soared through your mind. He caught your excitement with a smile, his free hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered, words careening on the edge of inaudible as he trailed an ice cube around the fullness of your bottom lip. You obeyed, eyes fluttering as you parted your lips. He smiled down at you, finding himself proud of how quickly you listened to him. “Good girl.”

You tilted your head back, allowing him to push the ice farther into your mouth, watching as his eyes focused on how quickly the ice melted against the heat of your tongue.

The sight of your tongue twitching underneath the ice, cold water dripping from the corner of your lips, Johnny couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to connect your lips to his. His hand grasped your jaw, fingers threading through your hair as his tongue met yours.

The steady drip of cool water against your waist pulled you away, goosebumps chasing the droplets in earnest. Johnny murmured an apology against your lips, hardly backing away an inch before his hand smoothed underneath your shirt, lifting the fabric up and over your head.

He took the half-melted ice cube between his fingers, placing it in his mouth as he situated himself between your thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, ice perched between his lips. You could only watch as he lowered himself, bitter cold making contact with the hollow of your stomach. He trailed his lips downward, goosebumps rising along your skin. Cool droplets of water headed down the side of your stomach, leaving you involuntarily arching from the couch as his hands kept your hips steady.

“Johnny-“ You whined, feeling your arousal coat the thin fabric of your underwear. He ignored your plea, instead hooking his fingers into the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down in tandem with his movements. You could feel him inching closer to your aching cunt, his right hand pushing your thighs apart, pinning your knee to the backrest of the couch.

You’d expected him to give in, to give you the pleasure you’d so desperately sought after. Instead, he sunk lower onto the couch, trailing the ice onto your inner thighs. You shivered, soft moans falling from you as droplets of water glided down to your cunt. Every so often his gaze would meet yours, the desperation hidden beneath his eyes becoming more ravenous with each passing second.

He propped himself up on his arm, plucking the ice from between his lips. It dripped down his forearm, accidentally causing water to smear against your inner thighs. In a makeshift apology for having teased you for so long he leaned down, right hand held away from your body as he pressed featherlight kisses against your damp inner thighs. You hadn’t the mind to be frustrated, only wanting his lips, fingers, or anything he’d give you.

“Been so patient.” He murmured after placing another open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. “So proud of you.”

Before you could conjure a response he shifted between your legs, brushing the edge of the ice against your clit. You gasped, hips bucking down against the couch. His free hand moved back to your hip, holding you steady as he continued swirling the ice against your aching clit. You were left writhing under his hold, mind muddled by the pleasure and lack of release.

In an act of mercy, he tossed the ice to the floor, hands splaying against the underside of your thighs, fingertips freezing against your skin. You rested into his hold, shifting your hips to bring yourself closer to him. He responded to the movement with a smile and a kiss to your thigh, trailing his lips downward until he reached your cunt. The heat from his lips burned, the shift in temperature drastic enough for your hips to buck up into his touch.

His tongue delved between your folds, your arousal coating his tastebuds, the taste pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he swirled his tongue around your clit. The feeling of his tongue against you paired with the obscene sounds of him sucking your clit into his mouth left you whining, hardly able to manage a measly breath as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

Your fingers threaded through his thick hair, the placement of your hands giving you enough balance against the couch cushions to rut up against his tongue. He never backed away, letting you use his mouth as he tried his damndest to keep up with the desperation-fueled bucks of your hips. His middle and ring fingers spread your folds, allowing him to lick a stripe up your cunt before he focused his attention back on your clit, swirling his tongue around it as he pushed his fingers into your cunt, curling them upward to brush against your g-spot.

“Fu-uck.” Was all you managed at the combination, word breathless as he thrusted his fingers into you, syncing his movements with his tongue. Your hips rocked down against the digits, pushing them deeper into your cunt, the depth causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling, the vibration of his voice centered around your clit. You could feel your lower stomach tensing, thighs trembling in his hold as he lapped at your cunt.

He could feel your orgasm building before you’d even registered it, too blinded by the onslaught of pleasure to recognize your cunt fluttering around his fingers, how your breaths had become short gasps of his name, your grasp on his hair tightening to an almost painful degree. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, pressing down against the plush skin as he continued pumping his fingers into you, massaging that spot within you that left you trembling.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, begging you to come undone against his tongue and around his fingers. You gave him his wish with a broken cry of his name, back arching from the cushion of the couch, your hips jerking as he continued his ministrations. His pace sped up, the pleasure almost brutal as he helped you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, soaking the fabric beneath you.

His lips and chin glistened underneath the overhead light, the sight making you flush as he wiped his skin dry with the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric off of himself afterward. You leaned up, thighs shaking with the movement as your hands found the front of his jeans. He looked down at you, lips parted as his breaths came in shuddering gasps. You kept his gaze as you unzipped his jeans, fingers sliding against the worn denim. You could feel his cock straining against the material, his chest heaving with each touch of your fingers against his shaft, no matter how featherlight.

You slunk your hand into the fly of his jeans, flattening your palm against the shaft of his cock, fingertips settling at the base as you leaned up onto your knees, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss as you swallowed the moans that left him at the feeling of your hand slowly moving along his aching cock. You’d hardly been able to wrap your fingers around him before he’d pushed you back onto the couch, right hand moving to cup the underside of your thigh, hiking it up to rest against his lower back.

“Please-“ You whined against his lips, hands eagerly pushing his jeans down his hips.

He leaned down onto his left arm, propping himself up as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself languidly as he swiped his tip along your soaked folds, finding himself unable to stop the groan that reverberated in his chest at the warmth of your cunt against him.

Your eyes met his in a silent plea for him to fuck you, to extinguish the fire burning heavy in your lower stomach, the very feeling that left you dripping, clenching around nothing as he teased you with the tip of his cock.

“Johnny-“ You panted impatiently.

With a roll of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching you out blissfully. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, causing your hips to twitch as you grew accustomed to his size. You two fucked often, yet every time you had to give yourself a moment to readjust to his size, not that he minded - if anything he seemed to love the sight of you squirming beneath him, lips parted as you took in shaken gasps while your cunt squeezed around him.

“Alright?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaning back to level his eye-line with yours. You nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed to pull his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, the lewd sound of your cum coating his shaft filling the shared silence between you.

Your legs tightened around his hips, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back, pushing him deeper into you in tandem with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes stayed locked with his, pupils blown, irises sharing every emotion you couldn’t put to words while overcome with such intense pleasure.

His pace was slow, methodical, ensuring he brushed against each spot inside of you that left you rolling your hips with his, wordlessly begging for more. With a kiss to your temple, he slunk his hand down between your damp bodies, circling his middle and ring finger around your clit.

A gasp rasped from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushion of the couch, the combination of his cock and fingers leaving you a mess of whimpers and heavy breaths. He watched you, face flushed a reddish hue from both the heat and the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock each time he bottomed out inside of you.

You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, warm and wet, stark in comparison to the remnants of water that lingered against your chest and stomach. His fingers picked up in their pace, the change pulling a drawn-out moan from you as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling your lower stomach tense.

“Johnny-“ You whined, words trembling.

“I know.” He replied, closing the distance between you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he trailed his lips down to your jaw. His cock twitched as his hips rocked forward, pace hastening as he felt your cunt fluttering around him. “I know, baby.”

With a sharp cry of his name, you were cumming around his cock. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, each one interrupted by a choked-back grunt as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down against you as he rutted into you, tiny breaths and whines of your name tumbling past his lips. He tried to muffle the noises by burying his face in the crook of your neck, but you heard them all the same, each noise causing your cunt to squeeze around him.

“Fuck, I-“ He breathed, eyebrows screwed together as he pushed himself up onto his left arm. He abruptly pulled out of you, the feeling of being empty leaving you whimpering as he pumped himself through his orgasm, spilling himself onto your lower stomach with a grunt of your name.

He collapsed onto you, placing light kisses against your throat in between whispered praises, his right hand smoothing up the side of your waist, fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as you both caught your breath.

“Definitely didn’t help us cool down.” You laughed out, looking over to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hummed in response, a lazy smile evident on his face, absolutely glowing in post-coital bliss.

“Can always take a shower.” He murmured against your skin, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You knew by his glance that neither of you would be getting clean in that shower, but who were you to turn an opportunity like that down?

“Deal.”

A/N: Did I listen to a radio track just to get a line from an old Tulsa station? Yes, yes I did. It’s a shame radio ain’t as popular as it used to be, and it’s a damn shame rock stations don’t play classic rock half as much as they used to. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this! It ain’t hot outside where I am, but I certainly miss southern summers enough to write about ‘em! Thank you all for the countless love and support you show me and my work, I appreciate you all so much!

#anon ask #my work #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders writing #request #johnny cade #johnny cade x y/n #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade smut #the outsiders johnny

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fairy-writes · 8 months

Note

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write!

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college!

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over.

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home.

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door.

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets.

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down.

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully.

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs.

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt.

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down.

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat.

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs.

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you.

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools.

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement.

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles.

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment.

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it.

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine.

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval.

At least someone shared your sentiment.

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door.

The letter was short.

Dearest sister,

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures.

With best regards,

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman.

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease.

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room.

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food.

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be.

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue.

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt.

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two.

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep.

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you.

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours.

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in.

He scowls,

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares.

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger.

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you.

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.”

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue.

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee.

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled.

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding?

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig!

Much less one as young as yourself!

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care.

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens.

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize.

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand.

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it.

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again.

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms.

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite.

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they?

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs?

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat.

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside.

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems.

Sherlock trusted him well enough…

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup.

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over.

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other.

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control.

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs,

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned.

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods.

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

#william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #william james moriarty x y/n #moriarty x reader #mtp william #mtp william x reader #ynm william #ynm x reader #mtp x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #fairy writes

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cutielando · 9 months

Note

Can I have oneshots for Theodore nott and reader when he finds out that their daughter is constantly bullied at school?

protective | t.n.

warnings!!: mentions of bullying

my masterlist

School can be tough. That was a given. Especially if you end up being a Slytherin.

Theodore knew that better than anyone. Being a Slytherin himself, also being friends with the infamous Draco Malfoy always attracted some unwanted attention.

Most of the other students knew not to mess with him, but there was still the occasional bully who didn't give a shit and picked on him anyhow.

Because of that, he never wanted his kids to experience the kind of pain he went through when he was younger. He did everything in his power to make sure your children were safe and happy at school.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He didn't notice the signs early on, but you did.

Y/D/N was more distant than usual, spending an awful lot of her time in her room when she was home for the holidays and summer break, her letters always failed to mention any of her school friends and the atmosphere there, she was sadder and lost the spark that she always used to have in her eyes.

Thinking it could be something serious, you decided to talk to your husband about it.

"Tesoro?' you asked him one night as you entered your shared bedroom and saw his under the covers, reading a new book he had purchased the previous day.

"Yes, amore?" he put the book aside as you sat next to him, giving you his full attention.

"Can we talk about something?" you were nervous, you didn't even know how to approach this subject with Theo.

"Of course we can, amore. What's bothering you?" he took your hand in his, drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm.

"I'm worried about Y/D/N" you confessed.

His eyebrows were scrunched, not understanding where you were coming from.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know. She's just...different. She hasn't been herself in a while, she's always in her room, she barely eats or talks to us, her letters seem downright robotic and she's just not the same girl we know her as anymore. I'm worried something might be happening over at the school" you explained.

You felt Theo's hand that was holding yours tense up, stopping the movements.

You looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched, he was fuming and looking at a fixated point on the wall of your bedroom.

"Do you think someone might be making fun of her? Bullying her?" his voice was low and tense, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know, but I think maybe we should talk to her. You should talk to her, you know she'll open up to you a lot faster than me" Theo nodded at that, numerous thoughts running through his mind.

Y/D/N had always been a daddy's girl ever since she was little and you were okay with that. Your younger son was a mama's boy, so it evened the scales a little bit.

You knew that Y/D/N would open up to your husband and you hoped that the problem wasn't as bad as you felt it was.

"I'll talk to her"

Come the next day at breakfast, Theo turned to your daughter as soon as you and your son left the kitchen to go to the living room.

"Y/D/N, love, I wanted to talk to you about something" he started and put his hand over hers.

"What is it?" she was avoiding eye contact with her father, which happened very rarely when they would talk.

Theo put a hand under her chin, slowly lifting up her face so she could look at him.

Her eyes had lost their sparkle, now void of any emotion and tired.

"What is bothering you, vita mia?" Theo asked, brushing his finger over her cheek.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, wanting to let the pair talk in private. You instead focused all of your attention on your son, who was more than content to have his beloved mother's attention on him.

"Nothing, dad" Y/D/N tried to shrug Theo off, but he was having none of that.

"Stella, don't push me away. Your mother and I are very worried about you. You haven't been yourself for a while and it's concerning us. What is wrong, vita mia?"

Just one look into her father's eyes and she was sobbing, letting herself fall into his arms and clinging to him.

Your heart broke when you heard your little girl sob, taking everything in you not to run in there and scoop her up in your arms to reassure her that everything would be okay.

"I hate them, dad" Y/D/N whispered once her sobs had calmed down a little.

"Who do you hate, stella?" he was trying to keep his anger in check, his blood boiling at the thought of anyone hurting his princess.

"Everyone at school. They all make fun of me for being a Slytherin and they bully me because their parents hate you and now they say they're supposed to hate me too. I'm just so tired of always being the one getting hurt over there" the young girl finally confessed, her words breaking Theo's heart.

He pulled away from the hug, instead opting to take her face in his hands.

"Y/D/N, listen to me. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is allowed to make you feel bad or think any less about yourself. You are perfect, mi stella. You hung my moon and stars from the day you were born and both your mother and I know that you're destined for great things and a bright future. Never listen to what anyone else has to say about you when you know the truth about yourself. Do you understand?" the girl nodded, giving her father a small smile.

"I love you, dad" she said before kissing his cheek, hugging his body once again.

"I love you more, vita mia"

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desertfangs · 3 months

Note

“ how did you get this scar? ” (for Daniel/Armand if you're still accepting!)

I know it seems like I forgot these but I'm swear I'm still working on them! Work has been a beast and also I'm in the process of moving (!!) so my life is sheer chaos rn. Anyhow, this prompt inspired this little slice of life moment and I hope you enjoy it! It's about 1075 words.

Daniel shifts in the bed, groggy and half-asleep, but as he turns over, he brushes against Armand, who is still there beside him. He’s laying on his side, his amber eyes watching Daniel with a stark intensity, auburn curls stark against the white pillowcase.

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed but it’s the first time since they arrived in London, since Armand gave him an electric taste of his blood and he stopped running. It feels strange, somehow, but also comfortable.

“Hi,” Daniel says, since Armand is still staring at him. Armand says nothing. Daniel feels that familiar twinge of uncertainty. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”

“You always get groggy once you’ve reached completion,” Armand says.

Daniel laughs, delighted by the fact that he knows that about him. Such an intimate thing to say! Four years of running and yet Armand knows him better than anyone else.

“Yeah, well, your touch is soothing.” He reaches over and rubs Armand’s arm, his warm fingers dancing over the vampire’s cool, pale skin. Armand smiles at him. It’s such a warm, genuine smile that Daniel’s heart soars.

Daniel moves closer and kisses him, their tongues entwining. When they part, he sits up, leaning against the headboard. A thin sheet covers his legs and hips, though at this point, Armand has seen every part of him too many times to count. “Do you ever sleep in a bed? In the daytime I mean?”

“No,” Armand says. The smile slowly fades from his face. He looks at the window so Daniel looks at the clock on the bedside table. It’s almost five am. Still early. Late. Whatever. There’s time before sunrise.

“Always a coffin then? Or a casket? There’s a difference, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to which part?” Daniel asks, exasperated at how Armand can say so little, even now that they’re sharing a bed and apartment. Well, during the night, anyhow. And during the day, Daniel is usually passed out and Armand is sleeping god only knows where.

Armand sits up and smooths his hand down Daniel’s shoulder, along his torso, and stops at his hip. His hand is cool, the warmth of whatever blood he drank earlier faded from him. His body is rigid but his hands can be so soft and they feel like velvet as they trail over his naked body. Armand stops at Daniel’s thigh, just above the knee. He touches a mark on Daniel’s skin. “How did you get this scar?”

It’s barely a scar now, just a little white patch just under his knee. But Armand is watching him curiously, waiting for the answer.

“I was seven years old and I was trying to do tricks on my bike. The bike went out from under me and I landed on this piece of broken glass that was in the street. My sister ran and got my parents. My dad grabbed me and stood me up but then my mom saw my leg was covered in blood and screamed. The glass was sticking out of my leg and my mom and dad fought about whether or not to remove it.”

“Did it hurt?” Armand’s finger pokes at the spot, long healed.

“A little. I think I was in shock. We went to the hospital and they took the glass out and then I got stitches. It hurt after, I remember that. But mostly I was scared because my mom was so freaked out and I remember asking if I was going to die, and the doctor laughed but my mom looked like she actually thought I might.”

He shakes his head at the memory, the way the horror on his mother’s face had tugged something loose inside him, some primal fear he’d never felt before. The silence hangs between them. Daniel grabs the pack of cigarettes from the night stand and lights one.

“What about you, do you have any scars? Or did you, before immortality smoothed them away?”

Armand doesn’t answer. He keeps staring at the little white mark on Daniel’s leg. Then he bends down and kisses it, his lips feather soft. It sends tingles up Daniel’s spine. He slides into Daniel’s lap and removes the cigarette from his lips, replacing it with his mouth. Daniel doesn’t complain. He kisses him passionately, letting Armand’s fangs scrape against his tongue as he delves into his cool mouth. He imagines those fangs scraping over his throat, this thigh, his ankle.

You could scar me, Daniel thinks. The thought is unbidden, the sort of thing that comes to mind in the throes of passion. But the idea of Armand leaving some sort of mark on him with his fangs is hot as hell. He imagines Armand biting him somewhere—the meat of his thigh, his upper arm—and not healing the wound. His pulse races.

Armand pulls back out of the kiss, his face so close that Daniel can still feel him there. His eyes are huge and he tilts his head, as if trying to figure something out.

And then he pulls away from Daniel, climbing off of him. He stands and collects his shirt from where Daniel had tossed it on the floor.

“Leaving already?” Daniel tries to sound casual, like he’s not bothered at Armand having to go, but in truth, his heart aches at the thought.

Armand nods toward the window. There is more color in the sky and it is inching toward sunrise. Daniel sighs. He wants to go with Armand, to slip into his coffin and curl against him for the day.

Armand comes back to the bed and kisses him again, his mouth gentle against Daniel’s. “Sleep, beloved. I’ll be back at sunset.”

Armand is gone in a flash, almost as quick as a puff of smoke, like the wisp of it trailing from the tip of the cigarette Armand set, still burning, in the ashtray. He picks it up and brings it to his lips.

He touches his neck where four years prior, Louis bit him. There’s no mark left, no scar, just the memory of Louis’ fangs in his throat, holding him as he drank. No mark from where Armand drank from him just a week ago in Pompeii. And yet both nights sent him careening in a whole new direction and changed his life completely.

He thinks it’s funny how something can leave a lasting mark with no outward sign.

#armand/daniel #armand #daniel molloy #devils minion #the devil's minion #devil's minion #vc fanfic #short fic #prompt meme #vc fic #tvc #the vampire chronicles #vampire chronicles #vc #armand x daniel

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emberfrostlovesloki · 3 months

Text

Teacher's Pet [Aaron x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@littlecarmine) Center (@penandpaper-love) Right (@f4iryesss)

Prompt: When the reader, Jack’s teacher gets injured during the school day keeping her students safe, Aaron goes to check on her that evening. The unlikely pair get closer, but it's up to both of them if they want to make whatever they have more.

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, teacher!reader, ally!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 12K

Content Warnings: Homophobic phrases [from anti-LGBTQ+ protesters (the bad guys)], brief mention of religion, mention of being hit in the face and body and a split lip (reader) distress, mention of food and drinking alcohol, mention of an accident [not specified what (reader)], Haley’s death is brought up. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for amazing @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride writing challenge! I made up my own prompt for this one which is: The reader puts herself in danger to keep her students away from anti-LBGTQ+ protesters. Aaron finds out about this and makes sure she’s fine (aka protective Hotch.) I hope you like this more fluffy and cute style of fic. It’s a bit different from the angst I write. It takes me back to my early Aaron writing style! I want to note that I know that not all school districts deal with this kind of stuff, but as I live in the South, and my sister and I are both in Education, I get to hear about this kind of thing more often than I’d like. Anyhow, please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

y/n = your name

y/l/n = your last name

a/r = age range

a/d/r = any dietary restrictions (if none, please ignore)

Aaron got the call from the school shortly after he’d finished an early lunch. He was seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lap lighting his space which was covered by the team’s files. He was going to do the boring parts of the files for them, as he always did, but his phone ringing had disrupted his workflow. He glanced at the caller ID and quickly picked up, saying, “This is Mr. Hotchner.” There was a brief pause before the woman on the phone said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner. This is Rachel Jenkins, the school receptionist.” Hotch nodded his head; he knew the woman well, as he had gone to the school multiple times this year already because Jack had gotten into some kind of trouble, or needed him. Rachel continued, stating “Sorry to disturb you during the work day, but there’s been an incident with Jack, and the nurse thinks it’s best that you come and pick him up as soon as possible.” Aaron stifled a sigh. He wasn’t angry at Jack. He didn’t blame him for acting out, a trait that had started once his son had started processing his mother’s death. The family counselor said that was a natural part of grieving for a child, and Aaron was sympathetic to his son’s pain and emotions. Sometimes he wanted to scream or lash out too, but he had more faculty over his emotions. Even with all that being said, Hotch did find it a bit troublesome that Jack got into scuffles on days that would have been easy for him. But that was neither here nor there, life, nor emotions waited for anyone’s schedule -- Aaron knew this like all parents did.

Hotch asked a follow-up question: “Was this Jack dealing with bullies, or was this him doing something he shouldn’t be?” Aaron liked to know these things heading into the Principal or Nurse’s office beforehand, so he could set his tone appropriately. There was a pause on the line which made Hotch nervous. The silence was broken as Jessica replied, “No, Mr. Hotchner, it’s not that. I… I think it’s best that you just come down to the school.” This response made Aaron even more tense.

What could have happened that the woman would hesitate like that? He sensed that an answer had been on the tip of her tongue, and she’d stopped herself from speaking because she thought it was better. Hotch furrowed his brows, got out of his chair quickly, and grabbed his suit jacket. He flipped the screen of his laptop down, then grabbed his shoulder bag from the couch. No matter what Jack might have gotten up to, not knowing if something bad had happened to his son, nothing would stop him from getting to Jack.

Hotch hurriedly locked his office door behind him and as he started striding toward the stairs that would get him to the elevators, Rossi exited his office and offered a quizzical look at his friend. It was unlike Aaron to flee the office, even on days that felt like they were drawing on for an eternity. Hotch beat Dave to the question forming on his lips, someone would need to know where he was in case something serious came up in his absence. “Jack had some trouble at school and they said I should head over there.” Rossi frowned and said, “The bullies again? Remember my offer of teaching Jack how to punch is still on the table.” The worried look on Aaron’s face prevented Dave from joking further. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t think so, I hope to be back in a half hour or so. Look after the team while I’m gone, please?”

Rossi nodded his head in understanding and watched as Aaron took the stairs quickly down to the bullpen and out of sight. Dave closed his eyes for a second. He knew things had been hard for Aaron and Jack after Haley. There was no avoiding the hurt that lingered like a shroud around the two of them. He knew that Hotch had done his best to help and support Jack, but that didn’t make Aaron’s pain any less. If anything it made it worse because the guilt still haunted Aaron like a spector. Jack’s anger had grown and manifested at anything that it could get its teeth into, and often its victim was Aaron, who was trying his best. Dave bowed his head and saw the grief with Aaron. Rossi knew grief, it had been his companion for many years. And it hurt to see it on Hotch, but there was little he could do but support Aaron to the best of his ability and let time do its healing. And healing was a slow seamstress. Dave looked over the bullpen at the team working and smiling and turned back to his office, he felt like he needed a drink, but for now, bitter coffee would have to do.

Aaron drove at a speed that was technically street-legal. The churning of his stomach and the constant red lights had him worried and agitated at the same time. Jack’s school wasn’t too far away, but he’d hit the lunch-hour traffic which made the drive at least twenty-five minutes long. Hotch jacked up the air conditioner to silence his stressed-out thoughts. If something very bad had happened, then he would have been told. And there was nothing on the news, no lockdowns, or active shooter drills. However, sending Jack off to school every morning knowing that that was a possibility didn’t make him feel good.

It was the fear of the unknown that made Aaron press his foot down on the accelerator further. Hotch arrived at the school and everything looked normal from the outside. With hurried footsteps, he made it to the front office to check in. Jessica could see how nervous he was and the intensity of his expression. Aaron’s eyes, when they were dark and worried, had opened many doors for him, and broken many unsubs in the interrogation room. The receptionist swallowed and said, “Just grab a visitor badge and you can head to the nurse’s office, Mr. Hotchner. I’ll sign you in. The Vice Principal is already there.”

Aaron grabbed one of the laminated passes and said, “Thank you,” as he headed out of the glass office and toward the nurse’s office which was located at the end of the central hall adjacent to the janitor’s closet. Knowing the Vice-Principal was present with Jack told Aaron more information, but not enough to know exactly what had happened. If he found out that his son was being bullied again, he was going to send some strongly worded emails to those boy’s parent’s this evening. As he was drafting the letters in this mind, he made it to the nurse and opened the door. As soon as he saw Jack’s tear-stained face, and that he was clutching a Kleenex in his hands, Hotch stepped further in the door and the nurse and Vice Principal moved aside and let him go to his son. Aaron knelt next to the bed that Jack was sitting on and embraced him firmly. Jack let out some sniffles and Aaron reassured him before asking for any information, “It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay.”

After a few moments, Hotch attempted to move away, but Jack’s hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. Aaron moved his right hand from Jack’s soft hair that reminded him of Haley to under Jack’s legs as he stood. Unamused at how he’d been kept waiting, Aaron asked in a cool tone, “Would you tell me what’s going on, Vice Principal Westbrook?” The silence that stayed in the room as the Vice Principal picked at the hangnails on his fingers and looked at the floor had Aaron hot under the collar. Jack didn’t look bruised or hurt in any way, just very upset. Upset enough that he had wanted him. Before Dr. Westbrook could come up with a scripted answer, Jack said, “They hurt her, Dad.” Aaron frowned, pulled Jack back from his chest a bit, and asked, “Hurt who, bud?” Jack sniffled and replied, “Ms. y/l/n. He punched her in the face and her shoulder.” The words tumbled out of the boy's mouth and only had Aaron more concerned. Jack was crying again, and Aaron handed him back his crumpled tissue and pressed Jack to his broad chest again. Jack set his head on his dad’s shoulder and took comfort in the solid presence and scent that was always there for him when he needed it.

Jack had done a lot of growing up in his short years. He’d discovered a few things about life that he wished he hadn’t. How people you loved sometimes went away, maybe just for a bit, or sometimes forever, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still there loving him. His dad was a prime example of this -- and even if Jack couldn’t articulate this, or might change his mind later, it was still true in the moment. As his little fingers clutched at Aaron’s shirt collar, Hotch turned to face Dr. Westbrook again.

The slim man seemed to be trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with Aaron, and giving a straight answer to anything, but Hotch wouldn’t let him get away with this. Ms. y/l/n was someone who had become very special to Jack this year when he got into her class. Aaron also had a kind of parasocial relationship with y/n, as she had been very helpful with Jack and dealing with his grief and the bullying he’d been dealing with that year. Jack had brought her up early in the year and when Aaron had met with Ms. y/l/n for the Meet-The-Teacher night, Hotch could tell why. She was so bright. Her presence illuminated her cozy room which she had decorated with bright posters and lights. It seemed even the sharp corners of the room were softened by y/n’s presence. She had given Jack such praise for his manners, his reading skills, and how he treated his classmates with kindness. Aaron had almost felt like a lost that night, as he could only listen and nod. He had to really pay attention when some of the other parents started asking questions. Apart from the fact that y/n was clearly an adept teacher and classroom manager for her age, she was also pretty. Pretty in a quaint way. He’d left the school that night feeling oddly lighter than he had in months.

The next time they met was at the first parent-teacher conference. That was where Aaron had learned that Jack was dealing with bullies. The administration hadn’t even informed him of this issue. y/n was very kind about it and wanted to make sure that Aaron had the right support for something like this. y/n hadn’t meant to question his parenting skills, but as a single dad, she wanted to get a better feel of how emotions were handled around the Hotchner household. Not just sad feelings, but anger and resentment too. It wasn’t until a month later when the bullying had gotten really bad, that Aaron realized, thanks to y/n, that he wasn’t equipped to handle this alone and had brought in the help of a family counselor. He had more contact with y/n after that, as she checked up on Jack and kept Aaron informed about his son’s grades and other issues that popped up in the classroom.

Hotch could understand why Jack would be upset that y/n had been hurt somehow. He was also angry, and asked in a firm voice, “What happened to Ms. y/l/n?” The VP sighed and said, “Well it was just an unfortunate situation, Mr. Hotchner, but no one was seriously hurt and we’re launching an investigation into the situation that happened.” This evasive answer didn’t satisfy Aaron and he replied, “Great, but what happened to Ms. y/l/n, and why is my son so distraught about it? What happened?”

Dr. Westbrook realized that he couldn’t talk his way out of not answering Aaron as he had with the other parents he’d had to have had this conversation with. The man relented and said, “Well this morning a group of Anti-LGBTQ+ protesters amassed at the front of the school and held up degrading signs and shouted at anyone coming into the building through the front entrance.” Hotch already didn’t like where this was headed. The political climate had many up in arms due to the acceptance of others, and they made it their goal to try and complain and intimidate those who didn’t agree with them and their views. The VP continued, “Well they were blocking the flow of traffic and harassing the faculty, so we had some city police move them off campus. Unfortunately, they set up on DeGhatty Street on the sidewalk by the area for recess.” Hotch nodded, getting a better picture of what had happened. But there were still missing pieces. The next bit Dr. Westbrook rushed through, but Aaron caught the story even if the VP was trying to make it hard to. “Well it was the second shift of recess, the time that Jack has, and the protesters became more agitated. They weren’t getting the engagement they wanted, and they started yelling at the kids. Ms. y/l/n was on recess shift and tried calling the school’s two SROs, but they were dealing with an incident in the cafeteria. The screaming was distressing to some of the students and one student started moving toward the group by the fence…”

Hotch stopped the man and asked, “Was it Jack?” The Vice Principal nodded his head no and replied, “No Mr. Hotchner. It was another student, but other monitors and students did say that your son was watching from a pretty close distance.” Hotch narrowed his eyes but didn’t detect that the man was lying. Dr. Westbrook swallowed thickly under Aaron’s gaze and shaky continued, “Well Ms. y/l/n saw the student moving toward the protesters, and she moved forward to cut the student off. The group was unhappy about that, and they accosted her and made some false statements and allegations about her. She did her best to verbally defend herself and move back to protect the students and get them all inside, but one of the men in the group, allegedly, grabbed her shoulder, screamed at her, and then lost his composure and hit Ms. y/l/n in the face and chest.”

The image that the man was painting made Aaron feel his anger flash up in him. Not only was the VP using protective language for the protesters, he, nor the school had done a proper job of protecting their students or teachers. No wonder Jack was distraught. Thinking of Jack, his son had settled and Aaron knew they would have to leave in a bit. This was still a school and there were other things that had to be done, but Aaron asked, “Are the protestors gone now? I drove down DeGhatty to get here, and I didn’t see anyone. Also, how is Ms. y/n? Is she alright?”

Dr. Westbrook nodded and seemed relieved that the conversation had turned away from the events of that afternoon. He cleared his throat and straightened his blue striped tie which didn’t match his grey suit before replying, “The local police came down and dispersed the crowd and told them they didn’t have a right to protest on the school’s block without a permit, which is true. As for Ms. y/l/n, Nurse Patty here looked her over and we decided it was for the best to send her home for the day. Ms. y/l/n seemed shaken up.” Aaron refrained from letting out a long sigh. Now was not the time nor the place. But the feelings and questions that flooded Aaron were that he wondered why the police hadn’t been called earlier, why the school didn’t seem up on its legal code, and the utter condescension that came with having to send y/n home for the rest of the day. What did the Vice Principal expect from her after being punched in the face? y/n had “appeared shaken up?” How the hell would he have reacted in that circumstance?

Aaron didn’t want any of this frustration at this situation to make Jack feel like he was angry at him, but he would have a conversation with his son later about when to step back in a situation. But he’d worry about that later. For now, Hotch said, “Okay. Thank you for explaining. May I take Jack home now?” Dr. Westbrook seemed to deflate and nodded his head yes. The nurse moved over to Jack and gave him a pat on the head and handed him a lollipop. The older woman said, “Have a good rest of your day, Jack. If you’re at school tomorrow and you feel bad at any time in the day you can come and see me, okay?” Jack nodded softly and Aaron shot her a thankful smile before tightening his grip on his son and moving out of the door and back toward the front office. Hotch quickly signed out with Jessica and returned his visitor badge to the counter.

Once he was back out into the warm, almost, summer sun, Aaron dipped his head down to Jack's ear and said softly, “Hey, Buddy. Would you be okay with hanging you with Dad’s friends for a while while I work in the office? You could camp up with me or you could see Uncle Spencer, Uncle Morgan, or Aunt Penelope?” The prospect of seeing his friends had Jack perk up and his distress diminish as he said, “Hm-hm. I wanna see Aunt Penny and Uncle Derek.” Hotch smiled and replied, “Okay. We’ll just be there for a few hours and then, if you’re good, we can go to ice cream after Daddy’s done with work.” That last piece of information really made Jack happy, and Aaron relaxed for the first time since the school had called him. It didn’t take long for Aaron to get Jack strapped into his car seat and head back to the Quantico Field Office.

Hotch spent the rest of the afternoon working and looking after Jack; mostly making sure Jack wasn’t getting into too much trouble with the team. Derek showed Jack around the bullpen, and Spencer did some physics magic which the whole BAU oohed and ahhed at, even Aaron and Rossi, from a distance. Then Penelope took Jack into her office and they spent around an hour together laughing and talking. There was something about Garcia’s energy that matched Jack’s so well, and his easily distracted self could be entertained for hours. Hotch made sure to set up a fancy coffee delivery for tomorrow morning for the team out of his pocket. He knew all of their orders by heart now. He did this as a thank you to the team. Not that any one of them would complain about having Jack distract them, however, being a babysitter was very much not in their job description, especially when they were in the office, so wanted to make sure they knew how appreciative he was of their support. Each one of them had been there for him and Jack on numerous occasions when Hotch thought that he couldn’t go on. He realized how lucky he was to be surrounded by this support system. Jack had them too, and also his friends and teachers at school. Ms. y/n came to mind as he finished scheduling the coffee order. The thought of someone laying hands on her gave him a constricting feeling in his chest.

Aaron let out a breath and looked outside his windows into the bullpen where he watched Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ kneeling next to Jack who was speaking animatedly about what looked like soccer practice. Hotch moved his eyes back to his laptop screen and pulled up his personal email. With a few clicks of his fingers, he had gmail pulled up. He hit ‘new message.’ He typed in y/n’s email into the ‘to’ box. It felt so strange to be the one initiating a conversation, especially a new one, but he cared about Ms. y/n, and he knew his nerves wouldn’t settle down until he’d checked in on her.

y/n was the one to normally start a conversation either to check up on Jack or let Hotch or Mr. Hotchner, as she called him, what had happened with Jack at school. Aaron had only once emailed y/n for details about Jack’s day when he’d come home upset about something that he couldn’t quite decipher. She responded promptly and told him everything she knew about the situation. Essentially they had only emailed in a professional capacity before, and this felt different. For a moment Aaron wondered if anyone else had called or messaged her. If her friends from school or elsewhere were getting a story about the wild day she’d had, or how she was hurting. The thought made Hotch’s heart clench for some unknown reason. He typed out this message:

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD

From: [email protected]

Subject: Checking-In

Good afternoon, Ms. y/n,

I heard from Jack and the school today that you were hurt today while trying to keep your students safe. I wanted to thank you for putting yourself in that position for the sake of the students, especially Jack. He is very worried about you and keeps asking if you’re okay. He and I both share that sentiment. I hope the school fully supports you in what you need at this time. If there is anything I can do to make your life easier these next few days, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I would be happy to drop off food or just be a support if you need it. Wishing you the best,

Aaron Hotchner

Hotch hit the send button and listened to the little swoosh of the sent sound. Although he did feel better after sending the email, it was also odd. He didn’t want to come off as a parental figure to y/n. Not that he wasn’t older than her by a good few years, he was, but the idea of him coming across that way made him uncomfortable. And the fact that that idea made him uncomfortable only made him question what he wanted to come off as instead. Mostly, Aaron didn’t want to seem patronizing. He knew y/n was tough and could handle things, but his concern and care had overrode those thoughts. Hotch pushed those thoughts from his mind; he had good intentions sending the email and if it came off in another way, then at least he’d tried his best.

Aaron looked at the clock at his wall and it was five minutes to five. Unlike a normal day, where Jack would have an afterschool activity or Jess would pick him up for a few hours before he would swing by and get Jack for the rest of the evening, tonight was different, and he started packing his things up in his briefcase. He took some of the important files and the rest he left for tomorrow. He’d come to the office early if Jack felt up to going to school tomorrow. Once Hotch had most of his things ready, he moved outside of his office. Jack was playing a game with Spencer, and Aaron called out, “Jack, come up here and get your backpack and lunchbox, please. We’re about to go home.” Jack looked up at his dad and said, “Just one sec, Dad.” Aaron gave his son a look, and Jack sighed, got out of his seat, and made it up the stairs to Aaron’s side. As Jack moved past Spencer, Reid gave his head a little pat and once Jack had passed the lithe agent, Aaron gave Spence a smile before turning to his son and moving with him to the office.

Jack only had one binder and one maths assignment out on Aaron’s office couch. Jack had promised his dad that he would be good in the office, and being good meant doing five minutes of a math worksheet and complaining about how hard it was before the little boy moved out into the bullpen to see the team. Aaron didn’t blame him. Jack had had a hard and stressful day, but he did expect his son to pick up and get ready to go on his own.

Jack was getting old enough for those things now, but Hotch still packed his lunches every day or made sure his son had money for his lunch account. By the time Aaron had his suit jacket back on and his briefcase and shoulder bag in hand, Jack had put his paper and notebook away and was struggling to zip up his small Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack. Aaron leaned down and helped him close the bag and handed it back to Jack. Aaron led his son out of the room and locked the door behind him for the last time for the day. Hotch nodded to Rossi who was also locking up his office and then followed Jack down the stairs. The pair made it through the bullpen, and Jack waved at the team as he passed them. Aaron said, “Thank you” to each of them as well in his low voice. As Hotch got to the edge of the BAU’s area, turned, and said more loudly, “Thanks for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and JJ nodded and said bye.

True to his word, Hotch took Jack to get ice cream at a local spot not far from their house. Jack was ecstatic to be having sweets before dinner. Aaron had to remind his son that he still had to eat some other food once they got home and settled. Jack agreed excitedly as they walked into the pastel-colored storefront. There weren’t many people inside and no one in line, so it took only a few moments for Jack to order his chocolate swirl scoop with add-ins of Oreos and strawberries. Aaron got a scoop of brown butter vanilla for himself and then paid as Jack got them spoons and napkins, then found a comfortable table in the corner of the building near the window. After paying, Hotch sat down across from Jack who said, “Thanks, Dad.” Aaron smiled and reached over and patted the top of his head, replying, “Of course, Buddy.” Hotch cherished these moments. There would only be a few more years that ice cream before dinner was a big thing, and time in some things, such as kids growing up, moved so quickly. Not only was this time for them to have a bit of fun, but it was also a teaching moment for Jack. But Aaron was going to enjoy his ice cream first.

Aaron dipped his plastic spoon into the slightly yellow-colored ice cream. There were specks of vanilla bean in the scoop that was slowly melting in the afternoon sun. Hotch took his spoon and slipped it in his mouth, sucking off the sweetness. Hotch let the cold ice cream sit in his mouth and melt with the body heat inside. The taste was sweet, but not cloyingly so which he enjoyed. The aftertaste of the browned butter hit as he swallowed. Aaron didn’t allow himself to have anything this indulgent very often, so when he did, he tried to enjoy and appreciate it. For many years, Hotch knew that his faster metabolism had gone in his early thirties, and treats were a thing he sought out less and less for himself. However, as he watched Jack enjoy his ice cream and as the soft music played in the space while the cars drifted by outside, he realized that this was something not only Jack needed, but something he needed as well. Aaron was brutal on himself and his body, and maybe he was trying too hard. He wanted and tried to be the best version of himself for the team, but more importantly for Jack, and he might have been taking it too far on his end. He relaxed a bit into his bench seat and took another bite of ice cream, this time just enjoying it for the sake of the experience.

After their paper bowls were empty, Aaron took a breath and looked at Jack who was playing with his spoon and asked, “Jack, did you know what those people who were at your school today were talking about?” The boy stopped fiddling with his cutlery and made a face that said he was thinking before saying, “I think so. They were mad about gay people and shouting. They were really angry and I don’t know why…” Hotch nodded his head and tried to think about how to best respond. He had talked to Jack about the LGBTQ+ community, not so much like that but in the more simple and kid-friendly way of emphasizing that anyone can love anyone else as long as it’s not hurting anyone. That there could be two moms or two dads, and that not everyone felt like a boy or a girl. Jack looked up at his dad and asked, “Why were they so angry?”

Aaron swallowed and replied, “Well, sometimes people don’t like something, or don’t believe in something. And they can think that, but the thing is that they try and want to make other people think it too. And when people don’t agree with them, they get angry. Because if you can’t make someone agree with you, then you can at least make them scared. And what do we know about being scared, Jack?” It took a second before Jack replied, “It’s okay to be scared but being different doesn’t mean being scary.” Aaron nodded proudly and Jack added on, “So they were just big bullies?” Hotch knew it was more complex with that but for now, it was a good analogy and he nodded yes.

This conversation gave Jack a new thought and he asked, “You told me that I shouldn’t give bullies time, but Ms. y/l/n went up to them and tried talking to them.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Yes. You’re right. That’s what I’ve said to you. Things are different with Ms. y/l/n because she’s an adult, and she was trying to keep you and all of the students safe. But you’re right, for you, Jack, I would say to stay away from a situation like that, but there are some other things you can do too.” Aaron knew that Jack was a helper, and always had been. So in a situation where his son might feel helpless, he wanted to give him an option to do something that would give him power in the scenario and to do something that he was good at.

Aaron stated, “So what you can do, Jack, is to find the other kids like you who might be upset. Because those people were saying upsetting and hurtful things. So you can find those kids who are hurting and make sure they’re doing okay.” Jack nodded along, this was something he could do. Aaron also added, “And if things seem bad, like if you feel unsafe or the other kids feel unsafe, the best thing you can do is get help from an adult. From someone you trust or know. Does that make sense?” Jack nodded and sat forward, mirroring Aaron’s posture as he shook his head yes. Hotch smiled and said, “Good, If you have more questions about today you can ask me anytime, okay?”

Just as Aaron and Jack were getting ready to head home, Hotch’s phone pinged with an incoming message, and he checked it. The email was from y/n and he tapped on the screen opening the message which read:

To: [email protected]

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD

Subject: Re-Checking-In

Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner,

Thank you so much for checking in on me. That is very kind of you. I’m just sorry that Jack or any of the students at recess had to see and hear what they did. As for what the administration thinks about what I did today, I think I’m going to find that out tomorrow, but don’t want to know really, nor should I speculate about it in an email. You are niceto offer your help. I think I’m just going to order a frozen pizza from the store and call it a night. I’m a bit banged up, if it was any more than this I think I’d have to go to the ER (that last bit is hyperbole). Thanks again for checking in Mr. Hotchner. I hope Jack isn’t too upset. Tell him I said hello, and that I’ll see him tomorrow at school! I hope you have a pleasant night,

Ms. y/n.

Aaron frowned slightly. There was a hesitancy in y/n’s tone here. Especially with how the school might react to what had happened. That, and the fact that y/n seemed to be in a lot of pain didn’t make Hotch feel good. It made him want to go over and see her even more. He paused to make sure this was still being done with good intentions. That his desire wasn’t just trying to find an opportunity to see y/n again. The feelings in his gut were still one of concern, even if his heart was doing something different. Hotch pushed aside the new feelings in his chest, something for him to contemplate later, and composed a reply to y/n:

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re-re-Checking-In

y/n, I’m glad you can bring some humor into this situation. That’s a relief. It sounds like you’re in a good bit of pain. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER? Also, would you let me pick you up a pizza? It’s no big deal at all, and that way you can save money on the delivery. Sorry, I don’t mean to overreach, but I am willing to give a helping hand if you want.

Aaron Hotchner

Hotch really hoped he wasn’t sounding too desperate, or that y/n would think his offering to help her save money made her feel poor. He didn’t mean it that way. He’d tossed a few options out for her to reach out if she needed, or wanted help, or just some company. From what Aaron could tell about y/n was that she was fiercely independent. She’d seemed so put together for someone in their mind a/r. From what he could tell from y/n’s weekly email updates, she made a lot of her own classroom content and tried very hard to connect with each of her students. Not only that but from the two times they’d met at school, there were no indications that she had a partner or parents close by to help her with things. Aaron assumed this mainly because she’d told him how she’d had to learn how to fix the leak in her bathroom faucet from YouTube just so she didn’t have to call in a plumber. That was another time when Aaron had wished he could just whisk himself over to her duplex and lend y/n a hand. Before he could overthink what he’d sent there was another reply:

To: [email protected]

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD

Subject: Re-re-re-Checking-In

Ummm, you’d do that, really? I don’t want to be a bother, Mr. Hotchner. I know you have to take care of Jack and everything…

y/n y/l/n

Now a hint of a smile turned up the corner of Aaron’s mouth. He and Jack had made it to the car at this point and Hotch typed out:

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD

From: [email protected]

Subject: [Re]-Checking-In

y/n,

I’d be happy to take even a small load off of your shoulders. After what you’ve been through today it is the least I can do, and I can get someone to sit with Jack for an hour or so while I come over. To make communication easier, here is my cell Number: (804) 572 - 4459. If you’d like, however, to keep this over email, that’s fine as well. It might be a moment before I get back to you as I have to get Jack home and get him dinner, but I’ll be open after that and talk to you again then. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about before I go grab your pizza?

Aaron Hotchner

The drive home was quiet as Jack thought about what his dad had said. The sandy-haired boy had a few more questions which Aaron did his best to explain. When the questions turned toward religion, it had been a church group protesting, Hotch did his best to turn the conversation back to the key points. He rarely talked to Jack about church or religion, wanting his son to be able to make his own choices in faith, or not to have any at all. That hadn’t been a choice for Hotch as a child, and he wanted Jack to not have the burn of guilt that faith could bring unless it was something his son came to on his own terms. Plus religion had become a bit of a sore subject for Aaron after Haley’s passing. How could a fair God take away someone as good and pure as Haley? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t have the will to study theodicy. So he pushed those thoughts to the background and focused on getting home.

It didn’t take long for Aaron to get dinner ready for Jack. While he reheated some leftover pasta and veggies, Jack did his homework, and they both had a small dinner. Hotch also texted Jess to see if she was open to swing by for an hour to which she replied, “Yes. I never miss a chance to hang out with my coolest nephew. Are you going on a date or something?” Aaron rolled his eyes at the text, he suspected sarcasm and replied, “Something like that. Making a house call to a friend in need. I’ll tell you more later.” A moment later Jess sent a thumbs-up emoji and said, “I’ll be over in about forty minutes once my boys are settled, probably playing Fortnite or something *sigh*” Hotch liked the text and checked his messages to see a text from a new number which he correctly assumed was y/n. She had sent a simple, “Hello, it’s me, y/n. For your pizza question, I have a/d/r so knock yourself out with that. I’m not a picky eater. Also here’s my address, ________. I’m not doing anything tonight, I couldn’t even if I wanted to, so you can come over anytime, but before nine would be great as I have to wake up early. Thanks so much again. This is very, very nice of you. - y/n.” Aaron liked the text and replied, “Sounds good. I’ll make sure to make it to yours before nine. - Aaron.”

Jess arrived promptly at 6:30, and Hotch let her know it was the normal bedtime routine that night. A half hour of TV, upstairs, teeth brushed, and in bed by 8:30. Jessica nodded and said, “Gotcha. You owe me a story for this one.” Aaron chuckled and said, “I’ll let you know. There’s an open bottle of Pino in the fridge if you want some. I shouldn’t be gone long.” Jess couldn’t help herself from saying, “That's what she said,” and Hotch flushed crimson. Unlike Haley, Jess had gotten the more crass humor of the Brooks family.

Aaron left the room, keys in hand before any more jokes could be levied at him. He really didn’t plan on staying at y/n’s long. However thanks to the recent comments, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was a teenager sneaking out of the house to see some girl after curfew. Hotch shook his head at the silly notion and reminded himself that he was an adult man, and such thoughts were above him. However, he couldn’t stop the small thrill that ran through him as he entered y/n’s address into his phone. He swung by the local store and picked up two frozen pizzas that he thought y/n would like and matched her allergy and dietary restrictions she’d sent him earlier. He also moved to the pharmacy section and picked up some pain relievers, liniment oil, and cotton pads, just in case y/n didn’t have any of those things at her apartment. After all, she had said she was going to get stuff delivered to her, and he didn’t know if those were things she had planned on getting and then just didn’t tell him because she hadn’t wanted to be a burden. At least, that was how Aaron justified the extra purchases.

Hotch texted y/n that he was on the way and the closer he got to her place, the more nervous he felt. It was strange. He hadn’t felt this way in ages. He had to keep attempting to suppress the feeling, but it kept creeping up on him like frost on the ground in the morning; an inevitable thing that he knew would change and probably go away with time. It was a week away from summer, there shouldn’t be frost on the ground at all. Hotch felt exasperated at his state and realized that maybe he was just too cold of a person and the frost stuck with him. Outside of y/n’s place, Aaron said, “Get ahold of yourself Hotchner, and be helpful for once, goddammit.” His little pep-talk got him to the door with the groceries. The lights were on inside and Aaron knocked lightly on the front door. There was a very muffled, “I’m coming” and all of a sudden the piercing darkness was broken by a stream of yellow light that poured from y/n’s open door. Aaron blinked for a second as he took in y/n. She seemed pretty relaxed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts that were nearly swallowed by the length of her shirt. She was barefoot and leaning against the door frame taking him in as well. Apart from the angry bruises on y/n’s face and her split lip, she looked comfortable here. ‘This is her home, of course, she’s comfortable’ Aaron reminded himself.

While Hotch’s eyes had been adjusting to the light, y/n’s eyes were getting used to the dark. Jack’s father had always been an attractive man even though she’d only seen him briefly in the drop-off and pick-up lines and even less for any extended period of time. But Mr. Hotchner had a face, and attitude one didn’t easily forget. There was an intensity about him, a fierceness that could easily draw one in or scare one away.

y/n wondered why the other teachers didn’t talk about him more. Maybe it was all the things he and Jack had gone through, horrible horrible things that kept people away. It made sense that Mr. Hotchner was in the FBI. He had a high-intensity job. All that energy had to go somewhere, and when he wasn’t being a parent to Jack and doting on his son, he must be doing dangerous and exciting things. Far more exciting than her job at least. y/n noticed his jeans and polo, a new outfit on him, and most certainly not his normal pressed suit and tie. y/n wasn’t complaining. His arms filled out the sleeves and his waist seemed a little less trim. y/n felt like a total fool for just standing there, realizing that he was also waiting to come inside, or maybe just drop off the bag of groceries he’d brought her so kindly using his own money and taking time out of his night.

y/n snapped back to reality and berated herself and thought, ‘You’re fun little thoughts are getting out of hand. Please like he’d care about you like that.’ It was true, y/n had allowed herself to think, just a bit about the mysterious Mr. Hotchner. It was harmless, just small vignettes of them laughing about a joke, or holding hands -- kid's stuff, or at least it had been until he showed up outside her doorstep. y/n shook her head and said, “I’m so sorry Mr. Hotchner. I get hit in the head and my manners fly out the window. Would you like to come in, or just hand those things over? I can pay you back for them. Do you have PayPal or Venmo?” The words came out quickly, more quickly than y/n had hoped. There was no hope in sounding nonchalant now. A flush started forming on y/n’s face and she wanted to put her face in her palm, but had enough dignity left to not do that in front of the parent of her student.

Aaron let out a little sigh of relief knowing that he wasn’t the only one who thought meeting like this was a bit, different. He wondered for a second why y/n had accepted his help, but pushed that aside and said, “Please Ms. y/n, you can just call me Aaron. I’d like to come in for a moment. See if you’re alright if you don’t mind?” y/n nodded and opened the door wider for Hotch. Aaron slid past her into the warm comfort of her space. It was lit mostly by lamps and the furnishings seemed soft and cozy which would match y/n’s personality. It was a bit more sparse and minimal than Hotch would have imagined, but maybe the chaos of a classroom called for order at home. The lights in the kitchen were on and the brightest. Hotch heard the soft click of the door behind him as he looked over the space.

y/n stepped forward and said, “Well, please just call me y/n. Unless I’m in the classroom, Ms. makes me feel like a 19th-century spencer waiting for Harlod Hill to come into town.” y/n rolled her eyes at her choice of words. ‘Yes y/n, let’s talk about The Music Man in front of Mr. Hotchner, why don’t you?’ In an attempt to recover and hide her embarrassment, y/n stated. “I was just pouring myself a glass of wine when you knocked, um, would you like one? I can also take those groceries from you.” Aaron offered y/n a soft smile that only made her heart beat faster as he extended the bag of groceries and said, “I’m good for now. Thank you. Have you had anything to eat yet tonight?” y/n took the paper bag and their fingers brushed, the warmth of their skin spreading despite the frozen contents inside the bag. y/n cleared her throat and turned toward the kitchen in an attempt to hide how flustered she was. The cool linoleum tile of her kitchen managed to cool her down, and she placed the pizzas in the freezer. She tried to say casually over her shoulder, “I haven’t eaten yet, no. You can sit down anywhere if you like…” y/n didn’t know exactly if Mr. Hotchner wanted to stay long and she felt silly for having offered him a drink in the first place. Maybe he didn’t drink. By the time y/n had situated the food, Aaron had taken a seat in one of the chairs sitting catty corner to her tan couch. Trying to play it cool, y/n moved to her counter and poured herself the glass of wine she had been planning before she’d put her foot in her mouth. y/n contemplated that maybe this was why she was good with kids. The nuances of adulthood could pass over children’s heads so easily. They didn’t feel the awkwardness that y/n did right now. Nor the racing of her heart as Aaron filled one of her seats.

She moved over to the couch and asked again, “Can I please pay you back for the groceries? It was nice of you to bring them, and for you to check in on me. I got a few angry emails from parents saying that I exposed their children to danger today, so yours was a nice change.” Aaron’s eyebrows pulled together. The comment about payment passed him by. He wasn’t going to let Jack’s favorite teacher pay him back, even if she asked a hundred times. But the more pressing issue was the emails from other parents. If y/n’s actions didn’t look good, then he didn’t know what they were. He asked in a low voice, “Why were they upset?” y/n bit her lower lip and cringed as the pain stung from the split in her mouth. She had forgotten it was there for a moment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought up the other emails. Depending on how the district’s admin took her situation, it wouldn’t help her to spread information.

y/n chose her words carefully as she replied, “Well some were mad that I got hurt in front of their children and some were angry that their kids were exposed to those protestors in the first place.” y/n looked at Aaron and his slightly annoyed and sympathetic gaze made her feel better, safe. She hadn’t really processed what had happened to her yet, and she’d been alone since she’d been sent home. It was good to have someone here, and y/n took a sip of her wine and set her glass down on the table before leaning her head back on the couch and sighing deeply deflating slightly.

In a smaller voice, a voice that gave away the pain she was feeling y/n said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done anything. I just didn’t like the things they were saying. Kids are much more cognizant than people like to think and for those who have gay parents, or siblings, or might be part of the community themselves, they shouldn’t have to hear that stuff.” y/n pinched the bridge of her nose and continued, “This had to happen the week before summer break?” As y/n had her eyes closed, Aaron took the chance to give her face a better look. The bruise under her eye was turning a nasty purple that would fade to an even more ugly yellow color in the following days. The split on her lip looked nasty as well. The tender pink skin must hurt as she talked. He got what she was saying about kids knowing more than others expected. Jack was a prime example of that. Of course, Jack had been through more pain and grief than many his age. It would only make sense that he was more perceptive. The claims from the other parents sounded like bullshit to him though.

y/n turned her face to him and said softly, “Sorry for unloading on you. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this yet. I don’t mean to hold you up.” Aaron nodded his head no and said, “You’re not bothering me, and you’re not holding me up. What were the protestors saying exactly, had you seen them before?” y/n’s eyes softened. She hadn’t really allowed herself the opportunity to picture Aaron like this in person, so kind and concerned. She’d just let herself think silly little snippets, but this gentleness hadn’t filtered into the equation. y/n moved her gaze to the ceiling and said, “Oh they were saying all the homophobic classics. Fags go to hell, god hates queers, and they were accusing the teachers on the staff of being groomers and turning the students gay, all that jazz.” Hotch rolled his eyes. These points were so tiring at this point, and he was annoyed with y/n for having to deal with this. y/n looked at Hotch and said, “And I haven’t seen any of those people before. Not like I’d be looking for those types of people on a daily anyway. They must have come down from upstate.”

Hotch let out a small huff, his lawyer side kicking in as he asked, “You seemed hesitant about the school’s response to what you did today, and some other parents showed concern. Do you think the district might not support your actions?” y/n sat forward and took another drink of wine, more this time. It was helping her calm down. Not that she normally needed wine to unwind, but it had been a long day, and there was a very attractive man unexpectedly sitting in her home. That last fact was still a wonder to y/n. Like a dream. y/n considered that she might have gotten a very bad concussion and was being wheeled right now to a hospital. But she was brought back from her wayward thoughts when Hotch cleared his throat. y/n shook her head. She was letting her brain get away with itself far more than normal. But she blamed it on the pain, painkillers, and stress of the whole situation. That stress was slightly intensified by Mr. Hotchner’s question, but y/n realized it was better to say it out loud instead of keeping it in to eat at her.

y/n sighed and said, “It really depends. You’ve heard about that Mom’s for Student Purity campaign at the beginning of the school year, I’m sure?” Hotch nodded his head slightly. He had heard of it but hadn’t thought much of it. Only that there had been some issues and poor behavior at the school assemblies. Aaron had assumed that the district had taken care of the situation and that’s why he hadn’t heard more about it. As hard as Hotch tried to be involved in Jack’s academic life, and he did show up to every game, play, and parent-teacher conference, he didn’t have much time for the school board meetings. That had been Haley’s forte and the thought pained him momentarily. Aaron wished he could live up to the expectation that y/n must have had of him as he said, “I’ve heard of them, but not much. I’m sure they’d have something to say about today.”

y/n let out a little snort and replied, “Tell me about it. The district has been having a constant battle with them. Ever since the president and the vice-president of their organization got elected to the school board it’s been hard to keep them at bay. They’ve tried implementing book bans, vetting curriculum, and getting the librarian fired. Right now they’re not in the majority and their ideas are unfounded and impractical to implement, but they’re making things hard. Every time the district shoots them down, they start a new campaign and it gets more troublesome. I know this will come up in a performance review and if they don’t like it, they’ll find a way to make it hard for me. They’ve done it to others already. I can imagine the comments, ‘Teacher causes brawl in front of students leaving them disturbed.’”

Hotch took a moment to think about how hard that must be. To have to be so careful that making a choice to do the right thing could get y/n in trouble. How the system was setting her up to have to make hard choices at the expense of her employment possibly. All of these loopholes reminded him of his own work in a way, though he didn’t have to deal with kids all day. Even though some of the police and sheriff’s departments the BAU worked with acted like children. y/n sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I love my job. I love working with my students. I love to see their joy and to have concepts click in their heads. They bring me so much happiness every day. It’s just the other part of the job, having to tip-toe around people and admin, it kind of dims that excitement I had when I was a new teacher.” y/n finished off her wine as Aaron took a moment to think. y/n had a great way of telling stories, it wasn’t a surprise that Jack was drawn to her tone and humor. It drew him in. He turned his head back to y/n who was now longingly looking between her wine bottle on her counter and her empty glass, as if trying to decide if she should risk another glass.

Hotch asked carefully, “Have you taken anything for the pain?” He didn’t want to say that she looked rough, but her face looked like it hurt, and from y/n’s small grimaces, it clearly did. y/n nodded and said, “I did. I had some painkillers when I got home. I think I have another hour before I can take another round.” Aaron didn’t make a comment on y/n’s choice to mix alcohol with painkillers, nor the fact that she was drinking on an empty stomach. He’d recommend that she have some dinner in a minute, but for now, he said, “Well, I think if you iced your face for a bit and used some liniment oil on your lip it would reduce the swelling. It’s still going to hurt for a few days, but the bruising should be a little better, and it might tide you over until you can take your next dose of painkillers.” y/n nodded and said, “There’s a bag of ice in the freezer. I was doing that earlier but then fell asleep. I woke up in a nice puddle.” y/n grunted slightly as she got to her feet and made her way toward the kitchen. Aaron followed her with his gaze and he asked, “Can I refill your wine glass, and maybe you can try that oil, it’s pretty soothing. I know from experience.”

y/n turned her head toward Aaron, he was being so nice to her and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t come across people who were just nice for the sake of it often, and it filled her with warmth. She nodded her head yes and tried to imagine Aaron, who was always so put-together and composed, not bruised and bloody. The thought sent a pang through her. She wondered how often his getting injured happened, and if he’d let her help him like he was helping her. y/n shook her head. This was already feeling like a fantasy, she couldn’t possibly hope for more than this. Things like this didn’t happen, not to her. y/n grabbed the bag of ice that had refrozen after her nap, and grabbed a towel from the drawer next to the fridge, cradling the cool bag in her hand. y/n moved back to the couch and sat back down. The butterflies in her tummy had fluttered their wings like they did when they stopped to get warmed on the gray pavement outside of her house in summer. She wished she could still them, but at the same time, it was such a rush, they almost made up for the pain in her face. She wished she could get a better read on Mr. Hotchner. She knew about his son, and his circumstances, but even so, he was unpredictable like a comet. Why he’d offered to help her apart from out of kindness was hard to pin down, and she didn’t dare ask him outright. Why she’d accepted was another mystery. Did wanting to be in the company of a good man make her a bad person? Was she sexualizing him, taking advantage?

Before her thoughts could take her further, y/n pressed the bag to her face, covering her and dimming the flush that was blooming on her cheeks. y/n pressed a little too hard and grimaced at the cold and the pressure. Just as she did this, Aaron sat down with her wine and the grocery bag. Hotch softly said, “Gentle now.” y/n looked up at him, half of her face covered, and smiled. She felt like I might cry, but she didn’t know why. How pathetic she must have looked to him. Not able to take care of herself. But she’d been trying. She’d been trying to prove she could care for herself forever. Now one had trusted her, not after the accident. Not after her life had been turned around. But she didn’t talk about that. She didn’t even talk about it with herself anymore. There was no point in self-pity, she’d lived, externally unscathed. For as perceptive as Mr. Hotchner was, he couldn’t know everything inside her, maybe that was what she was waiting for. Someone who could explain why bad things happened to good people. y/n swallowed back her emotions and wiped away one stray tear, and Hotch sat in silence watching her with concern. Wondering why her mood had shifted so suddenly.

After a few minutes, y/n pulled the ice pack off her face and set it on the table. She then picked up her fresh wine glass and took a smaller sip, savoring it this time, as she did this, Aaron put his hand into the grocery bag and pulled out the cotton wipes normally used for removing makeup, then the liniment oil which was in a small dropper topped bottle. He opened the bottle and took off the paper cover keeping the clear liquid inside. Hotch screwed on the cap and then dropped a few drops of oil onto the pad. He considered that if this was for Jack, he’d use his hands, and let the warmth of his skin soothe the hurt. But this wasn’t Jack, and Aaron remembered that as he started raising his hand to y/n’s mouth like she was someone he could just tend to like family. Hotch froze mid-movement and turned noticeably red. He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry,” as he set the pad into y/n’s waiting hand. She was as shocked as he was at how he’d reached out for her. y/n murmured a barely audible, “Thanks” as she took the pad and, this time, more carefully pressed it to her split lip. Aaron filled the silence with what he hoped were some helpful reminders. It felt too awkward if he didn’t speak after his slip-up with his hand, plus, he was going to have to leave in a few minutes. He didn’t want to stay out late and the darkness outside was only getting darker.

“If the school or the district ends up giving you any serious trouble, make sure your union rep is with you when you have to explain the situation. And, heaven forbid, there is some complaint and the union can’t do anything, I have a few lawyer friends I can get you in contact with.” y/n nodded her understanding, Her eyes widened at his lawyer comment. Who doesn’t this man know? Aaron continued, “You should ice your face on and off until you go to bed, and make sure you get some dinner before you sleep. You can also use this oil in other places if you’re aching elsewhere, just make sure not to get it in your eyes.” y/n watched him list off these things so collectedly. Not even having to think about them. She considered that he would make a good teacher if he was inclined toward that profession, but then again, he was the leader of an FBI Unit, how much more of a teacher can you get than that? y/n snapped her head up, realizing Aaron was saying something to her. Hotch smiled and repeated, “Can I see?” He gestured toward her lip and y/n let out a little breath and said, “Okay,” as she removed the pad from her lip and looked into Aaron’s dark, thoughtful eyes.

Hotch sat forward in his chair. y/n’s face was in the light of a lamp and he could see her full-looking lips which were pretty except where they were marred by the scar and scab of dark clotted blood. It didn’t look bad enough to need stitches, but just barely. He’d seen so many scars like these on Morgan, Reid, Emily, and his own mouth that it didn’t bother him. What did bother him was that what was a painful and annoying injury being inflicted on y/n. That would sting for at least a week. Sure it sucked when it happened to him or a member of the team, but they’d signed up for that, the most y/n should have to expect in terms of harm on the job was a paper cut. Clearly, he had been mistaken.

Since they had both returned to their seats, y/n and Aaron had started drifting closer together like moths drawn to a flame. Hotch was about a foot away from y/n and could feel the ghost of her breath on his face and the hint of her barely touched second glass of rose now forgotten on the table. Without thinking, he moved his large hand up to the side of her face. The warmth of his hand on the side of her face had y/n rest her chin in his palm, and she closed her eyes. Not exactly sure what or why he was doing this, Aaron brushed his thumb over y/n’s top lip and then softly over her bottom lip. She winced as the pad of his thumb brushed over her scab, but didn’t pull away from his touch. y/n opened her eyes and Hotch dropped his hand. He leaned in slightly, entranced by y/n, her presence, just wanting to be a bit closer to her. y/n did the same.

The moment was shattered when y/n’s phone loudly went off. Aaron dropped his hand like a lead weight, and y/n’s head snapped toward her phone on the side of the table. She turned her gaze back toward Aaron, but the moment had been broken. He looked silly, almost ashamed of himself. He’d pulled back and away and his posturing also made y/n feel like a fool. What had she been thinking? y/n got up grabbed her phone and answered, stepping farther away, but not so far away that Hotch couldn’t hear. What did she have to lose after acting so immature in front of him anyway? She could hardly think how she’d act when she saw him again, especially in the classroom.

Putting the phone to her ear, she listened as her doctor asked if she’d picked up the refill of the medication that she had needed since her accident. y/n dipped her head. She’d completely forgotten about going to the pharmacy after her day and replied, “No not yet. I’ll pick them up right after work tomorrow.” There was a short reminder that those meds were helping y/n and she shouldn’t go without them. y/n nodded and said, “I know. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. I have enough to make it till then.” Hotch watched y/n cave in on herself as she walked away from him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, or silly. He felt silly. Like someone who hadn’t been thinking about what he was doing. He shouldn’t have put y/n in that position and he was sorry for it. He’d have to find a way to apologize and leave y/n to her night before making some other kind of monumental error in judgment.

Hotch heard y/n wrap up her call and her footsteps came back toward him. He stood and moved into the open space of the living room. The front door was just a few feet away and he felt like running out of it. But he stayed in discomfort and said, “I’m sorry for what I did earlier, y/n. That was inappropriate. I, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” y/n dropped her eyes again and said, “It’s alright. You were really kind to come over here and listen to me ramble and complain for half an hour. Not even my friends did that, and I’ll make sure to heed your advice. It’s clear you have a lot more practical life experience than I do. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” Aaron nodded, trying to accept her words for a situation he’d created. He wished he could explain what he’d been thinking, but he couldn’t because he hadn’t been thinking. The final nail in the coffin was when y/n said, “I hope you have a good night, Mr. Hotchner.” The change back to his last name, y/n hoped sounded regretful, but to Aaron, it only sounded hollow. Now it was Aaron’s turn to drop his head and he moved toward the door, stopping for one second as his fingertips brushed the cool metal, so unlike y/n’s warm skin.

y/n didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all. She hadn’t really known why she’d said yes to him coming over other than she wanted to see Aaron. She had enjoyed feeling his hand on her face. It was fast and strange like a dream, but she’d liked it, and part of her wanted very badly to understand why she’d wanted him here. And she didn’t think she could do it alone. She assumed that Aaron was as lost as she was. It seemed like he was. The words of y/n’s therapist rang in her ears, “Sometimes being strong is letting people in instead of keeping them out.” Just as Hotch’s hand latched onto the door knob y/n said, “Mr. Hotch… Aaron. I can’t exactly tell you why I asked you here, apart from the fact that I wanted you here, and I really enjoyed having you here, for all of it. I mean, like, before the phone call. I don’t know what this is,” she gestured between them, and continued, “But I’d like to understand it more. Maybe when the semester is over we could get coffee or something. Or if you don’t want that, I understand too.”

There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity before Aaron turned. His expression looked lighter, and maybe there was a ghost of a smile on his face that said, “I’d like that y/n. I enjoyed tonight too. You have my number now, so you let me know once you have the headspace to come up with a day for our meeting. I look forward to it.” y/n smiled too and raised her hand and waved. Hotch then moved outside and closed the door behind him. As he walked down the drive he felt better. Much better, and happy he’d come, even if he hadn’t been sure why, he had a better picture now, and he felt less guilty about it. He’d have something to tell Jess when the time was right, but for now, he could look forward to getting to know y/n better, and get to know himself too.

Inside, y/n looked at the door for a second before she moved to it and locked it. She then moved to the couch and dropped into the cushions with a sigh. Once she’d grounded herself, y/n grabbed her glass and took another sip. The bag of ice was once again going unnoticed on the cushions and melting. y/n pulled the glass from her lips and contemplated how her face didn’t hurt so much anymore. Perhaps it was the painkillers, or the wine, or maybe, just maybe, it was the courage to tell Aaron the truth, and the possibility to know more about that feeling between them.

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juvenillia · 1 year

Text

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 01: news

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: welcome back, i'm not so fond of todays chapter but we have to start somewhere, readers callsign is Skadi, next chapter is gonna be better I promise, rebloggs are appreciated

CW/TW: mentions of canon violence, guilt, self-doubt, smoking

wordcount: 2.6k

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It’s been a total normal morning at base. They got up early, had their morning runs, met for breakfast, went to some sparring sessions, had a few meetings. Just the usual madness. Soap and Gaz were supervised to watch and get the new recruits in line together with another two Sergeants. Meanwhile Ghost was in their shared office busy sorting all of the paperwork out. MacTavish and Garrick were not actually the best when it came to officialdom. Gaz still more than Soap, but anyways Ghost preferred to do it on his own. This way he knew that the work was properly done.

They all went all after their chores. Ghost was earlier finished than he thought, so he used his newly gained free time to strut around the base. Looking for any troublemakers, or anything to do. Just keeping himself busy. There was especially one thing he learned through all these years; it was an essential need to always keep yourself busy. As soon as he would have too much time to let his thought roam free, they would take a turn nobody wanted. That’s why he hated the time on leave so much. He barely had anything to do, or even anything to accomplish. He often tried to stay at base, taking some other duties on himself, but Price was fast to scold him away. He knew Simon and his mind, but also a Ghost had to rest sometimes.

As he walked along the shooting range, he could make out that Johnny and Kyle are completely caught up in their mission to show those rookies how to not underestimate the weapon in their hands. It’s always an important first lesson. Mostly the rookies where to easy going with the deadly metal in their hands. He stopped in his tracks and glanced down at his own hands. His usual skeleton gloves trade for some casual black ones. Still his skeleton balaclava was resting comforting around his head. His hands were stretching and slackening, reminding him of the first time he held a gun in his hands. The first time he had to kill. The first time Ghost shoved Simon away. He was also young and naïve, but never did he misjudge the weight of his actions. Something those rookies must understand. Anyways, he was more than glad that he wasn’t the person to teach them those lessons. Ghost had a reputation that most recruits were nearly scared away of his way of teaching.

“Lieutenant.”, a familiar voice dragged his thoughts back to the here and now. “Captain.”, he turns around with a nod to approach his superior. His posture switching to be even straighter than anyhow. Just like he would have been caught outpacing. His brows narrowed as he took the serious face of Price in. “Something’s wrong?”, he asked while not adverting his gaze from the older. Price came closer and took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling deeply. He usually had a contained look, nothing could easily stress him out. I mean, he had to deal with those chaotic situations so many times, and even with more chaotic people.

“Depends…”, he starts with a low but still soft tone. “Laswell wants a spontaneous meet.”, he states quiet. Simons eyes did widen for barely a second, not even noticeable for anyone. If Laswell wanted to see them all together, it could only mean that trouble was on the way. He couldn’t even imagine how right he was with that thought, though.

His head made already millions of possibilities up. Places they could be deployed within the next hours. What kind of intel they would find this time. What has to be prepared before heading out. How long would they be gone? Doesn’t matter, a job must be done. Even when all those thoughts already flooded his mind, he was still with his attention on his Captain. “When?”, Simon asked in his stern demeanor. “Immediately.”, John answered, letting his gaze drift away to the other members of the 141. “Where?”, Simon followed the view over to the shooting range. “Room 530.” – “Alright, gonna get ‘em.” They nodded at each other before Price made his way to be said room and Ghost took off to get his comrades.

“Och, what do you think we’re on to now?”, Johnny asked the other two with a bit too much eager while following them to the room 530. “Maybe, we’ll finally made significant progress.”, Gaz stated while tagging along. Ghost only listened in, while making his own thoughts about the situation. His head already running a mental checklist what’s left to do before leaving. “Nae danger!” [no chance.], Johnny exclaimed in a way too sarcastic tone, which earned a death glare from his Lieutenant. Maybe because of the Scottish, maybe because of the sarcasm, Johnny couldn’t tell.

It took them not more than five minutes to be situated around a table in the small briefing room. Price was already here, looking at Laswell who was seated in front of a table. All of the four men exchanging serious, and tense looks. Price stood on the very right side of the woman. The other three lined up across from them standing behind the table. “So, you wanted to see us?”, Price breaks the silence first and Kate looked at him. A tense line on her forehead. She is unstopping tapping her fingertips on the table, while glancing over to the clock once. “Yes. There’s some news you should hear.”, she says with a quite annoyed sigh. She pushes herself up and looks from soldier to soldier before her look keeps stopping once more on the clock at the wall. “And I wanted to be the one to tell you.”, another sigh escaped her lips.

“That serious, eh?”, Johnny asked carefully, but still with his charming tone. Knowing it wouldn’t do a thing to ease the mood, but it still was in his nature. Ghost nudged him a bit forcefully in his rips. The Lieutenant was way to observant to not notice how the woman tried to keep track of the time. Something seemed odd. He didn’t give it another thought, but he could feel a hint of discomfort growing in his chest. Price also looked with some concern at her. “Where’s it going?”, he asked keeping up his usual tone. Trying to force a small smile onto his lips.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and at the same time a long exhale from Laswell. “Finally.” The men turning their attention to the door. Some more curious than the other. “C’mon in.”, she said a bit louder for you to hear, and the door swung open. That’s when you walked through the doorframe. Wearing your usual combat boots, some casual cargo pants, a tight fitted black turtleneck, an oversized olive parker and a soft smile on your lips. Your hair tightly and clean made, your dog tag hanging loose around your neck on a delicious spot where every man would gladly stare at. Some more subtitle than others. You glance wanders from each member to another, clinging onto them for just a small amount of time. Your posture straight as you walk closer to the table.

“Bloody hell, you’re messing with me.”, Price exhales suddenly which earns him a growing grin from you. “Doesn’t seem like it.”, you walk closer to him. The others in the room exchanging glances as their captain walked over to give you a quick hug. Nothing to read into much, just a friendly and polite gesture which you return. His hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment, before he turns to the oldest woman in the room again. “How did you manage that?!”, Price asked her with anticipation. An anticipation everyone in this room shared. Who were you? What were you doing here?

While Laswell started to talk about a good offer, some deals that were made and only a few calls she had to do, your attentions was brought somewhere else. As both chatted away, the other men were attentional only to your figure and you could say the same. Your eyes were hovering over them. Standing across them you took all of them in an observant glance in. Gaz, what you’re supposed what was his name due to his sign on his chest, only looked surprised when your eyes met. The mohawk was completely flabbergasted, at least that’s what he looked like. What kept your attention the longest was the cold stare from the masked one. You knew people like him, but something in his eyes made you curious and that’s when you let your eyes get lost in his for a moment too long before Laswell mentioned something about your failure of being punctual. You blinked a few times before tilting your head into her direction.

That’s when your attention was completely back on the women. “… ’scuse me?”, you exhaled directly. Arms crossed in front of your chest. “I would totally be on time, when a special someone made sure I got a keycard, or at least a visitors pass.”, you shrugged afterwards, what earned you a chuckle of her. If you thought Johnny was flabbergasted, you should’ve seen his face now after your cocky response. Kate would never admit such an idiotic mistake she made, but you were right with this one. Still, she didn’t give you anything back on it. You had to literally talk the guard at the entry into letting you in like it wasn’t a security area base from the military.

“How did you even get in then, in the first place?”, Gaz asked curious, his gaze still filled with surprise and more questions he didn’t address. “Ask that Brendon.”, you shrugged off, “the guy is totally scared of getting suspended now. Might wanna talk to him.”, you pointed out looking at Kate again. Price started to laugh quiet but genuine. “Wait, he just let you in?”, Ghost asked with a low and distant voice. You didn’t think of his voice to be this deep. Mostly lads like him are all bark but not bite, but him? The appearance totally fitting the voice. It alerted you in a way, that wasn’t so common. He definitely caught your interest. You could already imagine the reputation he holds. “What I think is much more concerning, is that nobody even questioned me, a total stranger, wandering around the base and no one bats an eye.”, you voice seemed really concerned but also mocking. You couldn’t see any of his emotions due to his mask, but you were sure you could see him furrowing his brows deeply as he nodded along.

“Anyways,”, Kate clapped her hands, while she moved to your side. “Meet Skadi, the latest addition to taskforce 141.” – “Nae danger.”, Johnny exclaimed even more excited now. You glanced at him, only for a second with a slight surprise in your look before he stepped slightly forward. “Call me Soap! That’s Gaz.”, you nodded at the guy to his left. “And that’s our Lt.”, his thumb pointing to his right. “Ghost.”, the masked one huffed simply out. “Pleasure to meet y’all.”, you said not overly eager but still with a soothing tone. Soap was easy to get along, he was already way too excited about your joining. Gaz was cautious but still no problem, just a bit calmer but Ghost. You’d need a lot of patience with him, but so would they all need patience with you.

That’s when you felt a hand on your shoulder again. “Glad that you’re finally here.”, Price gifted you one of those charming smiles, and you just nodded back. Price just had something comforting within his presence. It never failed to get to you. “Finally?”, Johnny asked him, you could hear his curiosity even growing in his voice. “Wanted her to join the 141 for quite some time, always turned me down. So, thanks to Laswell.”, he said happy and looked around everyone. You just scratched the back of your neck again.

It was true, you met Price a long time ago to be honest. It was only a coincidence, but afterwards he offered you a slot in his team many times. He always reminded you, that you would always be welcomed in his crew. Back then you already had your place, something you wouldn’t have traded in for anything. So, you always declined his offer, so long that he stopped asking at some point. But after everything that happened you were kind of glad to give it another go. Laswell was right, the civilian life was nothing you could enjoy. Not when you knew what was happening in the world, and especially not when you could change something about it. That��s why you accepted her offer and now you found yourself surrounded by your new comrades. It made you feel uneasy, but you prepared yourself the last four weeks for anything that could happen.

Price didn’t know you in every detail, but who could say that even? He trusted you enough to handpick you out, and you were more than glad to escape the usual madness of a boring civi life. Sure, it would cost you a lot of effort and nerves to build up a good bond to your new teammates, but it didn’t matter. As long as you got each other backs and were professionals everything should be fine. You would do your job the way it needed to be done. Nothing would come in your way, and you wouldn’t commit to the same mistakes ever again. You were a soldier after all, and that’s something that runs so deep through your veins, that you could never change it. You were sure about it because you tried. You tried for six months straight and still you were back.

The briefing went one, talking about a mission in a few days to gather some important intel. All of you followed along closely. You could occasionally feel some glances onto you, but you didn’t give it another thought. As you bid your goodbye your new captain offered to show you around and put you on some tasks for the next days until you’ll leave. Those tasks would of course contain team bonding activities, that you were totally not fond of, but you had no choice. You already knew that Price thought of this team more of a family, than an only professional squad. That was what also scared you away from his offer, but now you were here. Trying to learn to get along with a bunch of people that you now had to rely on, but they were in the same position like you.

A sigh of relief escaped your throat as soon as you sat down on your new bed in your new room. Surely you were happy to be back to do, what you could do best, but was it even your best? Could you even think of yourself as good enough after all? You shook those thoughts aside and searched in your pockets for a small box. Price still wanted you on the team, so everything should be fine. “Pull yourself together.”, you said while pulling out your box of cigarettes. Soon you headed out for a quick smoke, shoving all those doubts aside. Tomorrow would be a brand-new start, and you wanted to get at least some rest before starting all over.

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