#thank you so so sooo much for the kind words anon i mean it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withleeknow · 7 months ago

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i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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writeandsurvive · 1 year ago

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Hi. I’ve been reading your work and it’s been sooo funny. It’s my first time asking for fic. Could you write a fic where Gibbs and reader is in the secret relationship in the bullpen. And one day they’re having breakfast or lunch or anything and they’re cute, sweet, and so in love each other and then being caught on the scene by someone in the bullpen.

Thank you so much for good works!

Hello anon, thank you for the request and your kind words, it means so much to me ❤️ I hope this is what you were looking for!

Busted ~ Jethro Gibbs

It's not easy to give a relationship secret, but it's even worse when it happens in the workplace, and the people you're the closest with are all trained investigators. However, you and Gibbs have been doing a great job at hiding it. It's a lot thanks to him, to be honest; the man has one hell of a self control and when he puts his mind into something, he never fails.

Most of the times you were almost caught was because you couldn't keep your hands off of the man you love. A stolen kiss here, a lingering hand there. The closest to being busted happened when a lawyer was clearly hitting on Gibbs, and your jealousy went over the roof. You trust Gibbs more than anyone, you know he'd never do something like that, but seeing this woman being too comfortable with your man, touching his arm, and giving him flirty looks, that was hard to handle.

However, it led to the first time Gibbs allowed himself to let go in the office. Noticing how jealous you were getting, he got you to follow him to autopsy, taking the elevator and shutting it down. He immediately grabbed you and kissed you intensely. Then he looked deep into your eyes, silently asking if you got the message. You smiled and nodded. Gibbs was a man of a few words after all.

Weekends off were a very rare thing for the team, so when the boss said 'see you on Monday' by Friday night, it was a race to the parking lot. Obviously, a few minutes after you got home, Gibbs let himself in and you immediately jumped into his arms. "An entire weekend, just you and me?"

"Why else would I let everyone go this early?" He kissed you.

After spending the Friday night at your place, ordering takeouts and simply relaxing together, you went to his place on Saturday. Gibbs feels more comfortable there, and he likes to work on his boat while you're reading a book in the armchair he specifically brought into the basement for you.

But Gibbs wanted to spoil you. He knows he's not the most outgoing and adventurous man, and there's this tiny voice in his mind that keeps telling him you're gonna get bored of him and the relationship. So, he used all of his computer skills to search for the best and fanciest restaurants in Washington. He wished he could've asked McGee for this, but how would he explain it? 'I want to take my girlfriend on a fancy date, and spoil her the way she deserves, cause I'm afraid she'll get bored and leave me. Also, my girlfriend is someone you love like your own sister.'

It was a nightmare to do this research, but Gibbs was satisfied with himself when he found the perfect place to take you.

"Your burgundy dress is still here, right?" He asked, joining you after he took a random shower.

"I think so, why?"

He kissed your forehead. "Go get ready, we're going out."

"You're kidding? Where are we going?"

"Surprise."

You excitedly got up from the couch. "Okay, but I need to take a shower too!"

He looked at his watch. "You got an hour, good enough?"

"Yes sir!" You quickly pecked his lips and rushed upstairs.

You don't remember the last time you got into a fancy restaurant like this, you kinda felt out of place. But it was amazing to see Gibbs being this romantic with you, holding doors, pulling out the chair, he even ordered your first alcohol drink, for the both of you instead of going with a beer or bourbon. "You're spoiling me," you shyly smiled. "And you look extra handsome tonight. I still love the polo shirts and hoodies though."

"You deserve to be spoiled." He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. "Had to clean up nice so people don't wonder why the hell you're doing with me, more than they already do, at least."

It was amazing. The food was exquisite, the conversation flew smoothly between you, and Gibbs kept complimenting you, and not just physically. He hinted several times how lucky he felt that you were with him, loving him and standing by his side no matter what. "Jethro," you looked at your joint hands on the table before getting lost in his wonderful blue eyes. "You don't have to do this to make me happy. I'm happy as long as I'm with you."

He stayed silent for a moment, processing what you were saying and looking for the right answer. When he opened his mouth to answer, a voice came out from behind you. "Boss! Wow, fancy seeing you here!" Tony DiNozzo. Great. You couldn't get out of this, could you? "Who's your da--" he reached the table, and finally laid eyes on you.

"Hi Anthony," you teased. "Didn't recognize me from behind? That's offensive from you."

Tony kept looking between you and Gibbs, mouth open. "I think he's having a stroke." You joked to Gibbs, who softly chuckled. He had accepted that the cat was out of the bag.

"DiNozzo, you gonna keep standing here or let us go back to our date?" Gibbs asked.

"I, um, wow. I got some many questions." Gibbs gave him his famous, which got Tony to solely look at you. "I got many questions." He said, lower.

"I can still hear you, DiNozzo, and most importantly, I can still see you."

You nodded to Tony with a smile, silently telling that you'll indulge his curiosity.

"Well," you laughed after Tony was finally gone. "I guess we're no longer in a secret relationship."

#ncis #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs imagine #gibbs fanfic #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis x reader #ncis fanfiction #tony dinozzo

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letsmyy · 8 months ago

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i have a request!!! you should write a daughter of apollo x leo valdez fic but based on espresso by sabrina carpenter (idk i feel like that song gives children of apollo vibes!) it'd be leo obsessed with the apollo girl (like him being absolutely obsessed with her, having the biggest crush on her possible, he constantly thinks about her, him being an absolute loser bf) and finally getting the courage to ask her out on a date or something like that.

“she’s like a shot of espresso…”

leo valdez x duaghter of apollo!reader

warnings: use of yn! english isn’t my first language so it might be some errors!!

thank you so much for your request, it made me so happy!! idk if what i wrote it’s exactly what you want but i hope you like it 🤕 this is my first timing writing a real fic and I think it really shows lol, but i promise I’ll try to improve in the next one, I’m so sorry if it’s that bad, and this is really short too? omg im really bad at this lol, but anyways, ly anon tell me your opinions (honestly) abt this later, kisses to uuu!! 🫶💗 (btw anon, please request other things I feel like I didn’t did you justice with this one)

words: 850

“is it that sweet? I guess so…..”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ - ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Leo was sure he was going crazy.

He always had a pretty big amount of silly crushes on girls, but with you? It was getting way too serious. Of course, you're beautiful, incredibly kind, and too generous for your own good, and you treated him well, but that isn't enough reason to make him lose sleep; at least that's what he thought.

And he was extremely wrong. Being in your presence was the equivalent of being bathed in the sunlight, and gods, he felt like a prisoner who hadn't seen the sun in years.

He's completely obsessed with you; he just needs the courage to verbalize that, but being honest, Leo felt like a coward at the moment.

While being lost in his thoughts (the thoughts being the pretty daughter of Apollo that never leaves his mind), the boy finally falls asleep.

Leo doesn't mind waking up if that means spending the day with the people he loves, so after getting ready for the day, he searches for you.

And he found you, talking with a much younger camper, helping him. You're smiling like it's the best day of your life, and Leo could swear that you're almost glowing.

The boy makes its way to you the same moment you finish talking to the kid, now having your full attention on Hephaestus' son.

"Leo! Good morning!" Your voice to him had the same effect as listening to his favorite music, it made him happy in ways he couldn't explain, even if his life depended on it.

"Yn! Good morning!" He mimics you, not in a bad way, just a teasing one. You roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

"Sooo, did you sleep well, Valdez?" You ask, seeming really interested in the answer, but he knows that you're like that for everything, being extremely kind.

"Not really, would be better if I dreamed about you," you laugh amusingly.

"You say that every day, y'know?"

"I know, I say because it's true. " You can't help but blush a little. You're used to Leo flirting with you, but it never gets past that, so you just learned to joke back.

"Hilarious, Valdez... fortunately, I slept very well today, and I'm more excited than normal! I think it's because it's so sunny today, that's awesome, was thinking about going to the lake later. I can't waste such a pretty day like this one painting inside my cabin..."

"Unfortunately, I'll be in the bunker today, I have lots of things to do."

"What? No! You're coming with me, you can't waste this wonderful day either!" You grab his hands, walking toward the lake.

Leo could swear he would pass out at that moment. He couldn't even think about denying your offer, he would prefer dying to doing that.

After a few seconds, you guys get to the lake.

"Look how pretty it is! You have to go swimming with me, it’s a need.”

"Look, sunshine, water and fire don't get along so well, so I might skip that one" he says, apologetic. You frown, thinking.

"We don't need to go swimming, we can just talk, i really don't care." You smile lovingly at him.

"I don't want to ruin your day! There are many people that can go with you, you'll find someone better to do that." He's so oblivious that it's getting concerning.

"I want to spend time with you, Valdez. I don't mind if it's swimming or just talking, I want to, you know..be with you."

"Oh." He's acting like a loser, he can't think straight anymore and is blushing like crazy, but who cares?

"Oh?" You tease him, smiling.

"Yeah, we can. Just talk, I'm happy with that. " His smile was so genuine that made your heart melt.

That's when you realize you're still holding his hand, and you don't want to change that. You can feel he notices too.

Something just snapped in his head, now it’s the time, now or never, right?

"Yn? Can I tell you something?" He says it in a quiet tone, and you just nod.

"When I'm around you, it's like constantly drinking a shot of espresso, it's like being bathed in sunlight, you're incredibly energetic and enthusiastic, and i just can't get enough of you, you're my sunrise and daylight....all I'm saying is, gods, I very much love you more than just friends" You're surprised, really surprised, so surprised that you can't even speak for a moment, which just makes Leo even more nervous.

"Please say something...like, anything, a no it's better than silence because it’s less-“ Before he yaps again, you interrupt him:

"I like you too." The boy almost squeals of pure excitement.

"Seriously? Oh gods, oh gods. What?" He's so happy, it's so sincere, so soft, it's amazing, you can feel your heart beating so fast, and you don't even care; seeing him like this because of you is the best feeling you ever felt.

Then you see that one look, meant just for you, it's like time has frozen, and you're both thinking the same thing. Then, like all the stars aligned, you kissed him

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez fic #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson fic #heroes of olympus #daughter of apollo #apollo #son of apollo #child of apollo #espresso #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez headcanons #leo valdez imagines

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darkdemeter · 5 months ago

Note

Hey hey, could i please have a request?

So imagine that the reader is traveling with death to restore the humanity and they get along so well and are kind of flirty and the reader is falling for him. One day they meet Vulgrim and she out of curiosity falls into his serpent hole and is transported to the past to meet the young and unruly death, who we know was a menace when younger. And then they have their interactions the reader goes back to the current version of death. How do you think that would go?

Have a lovely day and thank you for your work!

EVEN DEATH WAS ONCE YOUNG

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death x Female Reader

NOTES: ↳ OH. MY. GOSH. ANON! Writing this was the bomb!! Interesting concept, a wonderful opportunity to explore pre-horseman "younger" Death. I tried to keep a balance between his more mature personality while also having some fun with giving him a bit of spunk -- I couldn't stop giggling! WARNINGS! ↳ Just death being a bit of a young menace, but he kinda cute doing it sooo.... but like there's also fluff/hurt stuff?

✎5.4k ────────────────

When people used to say: “I wish I could meet the younger version of you.” They don’t actually know what they’re asking for. Because who in their right mind would want to meet Death in the prime of his bloodlust?

The thought struck a fancy with you after your encounter with the demoness, Lilith. Her presence exotic and threatening without explicitly doing anything remotely violent. It was the sensual octave that carried her words like a lullaby you had found forbidding to hear, yet you fall prey to the temptation to hear just one more word.

That didn’t stop you from hiding behind Death, his back rigid to the point the knocks of his spine straightened slightly when her hand lingered a little too close to brush a stray framing of hair out from your face.

But it was what she recounted that piqued your curiosity. Her children. Enriching lore of a species most loathed from long ago, a bloody crusade where they met their end by Death’s hands. From her retelling and the mystical pulse of life that beats in the embedded shards in his chest, even speaking of them appeared to pain him both physically and mentally. A burden you could never carry for him nor tell him to abandon.

For a human, whose patience often wanes at the smallest of inconvenience, you show a lot of compassion and understanding for the weight on his shoulders. And never would you know exactly how thankful Death has become for your company. At times almost yearning for it whenever you are but a few feet away, or the thought crosses his mind to take you back to the Tri-Forge and leave you in the Maker’s care. Your fragility means more to him now than it has before, sometimes just looking at you eases just a fraction of that guilt he pushes deeper down.

You’d both formed far too much of a bond so unnatural to the opinion of others, yet it fell into some assortment of right for you.

You can’t possibly imagine being left behind, not now. Not after how far you have come all this way together.

But yes, that saying. Did people ever realise what it was they were saying?

“Meeting the mother-in-law already, baby albums and all.” Your voice crackles on the hot, muggy wind that travels through this slice of inferno, sky a spiral of darkness and hellfire smog. “Dare I say it, I wish I could meet the younger—”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” he warns with a low and thorough rasp that rattled in his chest.

You cannot help but spare him a teasing wrinkle of your nose and puckering your tongue out between your teeth, body twisting from side to side innocently.

You can’t help but chuckle with a slight bounce in your step. “Sounds like you were quite the bad boy.”

You merely roll your eyes as he gruffly replies with a huff, “Your perception cannot possibly begin to fathom the prime of my youth… or handle it.”

Despite his attempt of coming off cool and collected, you could hear the bitter coil of something else underline his words.

Oh, how mystical and dark and brooding he always was and portrayed himself to be. You’re sure that there is something a little less grim beneath that rough exterior. Hell — and that saying excludes your current locale — you have witnessed it before in the engagements of fun conversation that go back and forth to the point that a victor who gets the last say is indeterminable sometimes. So he’s not completely a lost cause of being impenetrable, he’s entertained you before with quite a few situations that you classified as flirting. Who knew that Death himself could make you blush bright and red?

He was close to claiming that title of victory this time, until you pad along to stop right in the middle of his tracks, his chest barely able to stop from bumping into you and causing your balance off kilter for a moment.

“Come on, Death, at this point of travelling together, I can handle anything.”

He looks past your nonchalant grin and over your shoulder, seeming to cock a brow beneath the greying bone of his mask.

“Really now?” he hums, “Duck.”

“Wh—” you dare not finish to question him as you immediately take to assuming position, ducking low to the ground in preparation of an oncoming ambush unseen by you.

But it never comes. You hear a gravelly rumble of a chuckle emit from the reaper before you, his shoulders jostling a little with the motion. Your lips purse together and you scowl at him with everything you can muster to no avail of affecting him.

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny,” you snark back, walking alongside him as he continues to set your traversing pace.

Noticing that he was heading back the way you came, you jutt a thumb to point behind you “Aren’t we meant to be going that way?”

“Your sense of direction has improved astonishingly, girl,” Death snickers dryly, the slur of flirty endearment almost lost in his words. He continues, “We’re paying a visit to Vulgrim.”

Ugh, even saying that name brings a ghoulish, slimy chill to climb your spine uncomfortably.

“Horseman,” The greenish bulbs of his eyes shrink behind a wrinkling brow of pale, craggily skin. Then his eyes see you and the form in which they almost bulge from their sockets sickens you. “And your little human companion! Your scent is just as… lovely as ever, my dear.”

The gaping maw of his lipless mouth twists into a creeping grin so unnerving it causes knots of fear to tie in your gut.

“Uh, no,” you say with an adamant shake of your head. No way in this life or the next would you trade your soul to Vulgrim of all fiends. Death had warned you to just keep your soul to yourself in general if offered to sell it for a little something in return.

“Your dealings are with me, Vulgrim.” Death is clear and quick to establish your presence before the serpent hole. The demon trader, sighing grimly with a black, slimy tongue ringing over his cracked and deformed fangs, addresses Death.

“Very well. Let us see what I have to offer… and what you can afford.”

Vulgrim usually dances about his serpent hole but never ventured too far if he can help it, usually to usher you away from it with a warning, “If you know what is best for your longevity, stay away from there.”

And most of the time, Death kept a watchful eye on you to keep you from falling face first into the next trap of trouble. However, this time around, the pool of green mist is left surprisingly unguarded. With a curious tilt of your head and scrunch of your nose, your boots pad on over as you walk towards it.

You can’t make out a bottom through the wafting cloud of mist that rises from the hole. Still you arch your body to peer over the edge and down into it as though you’d find something soon enough if you just inch that little bit—

“Human!” Death bellows as he rushes to you, only just seeing your form stumble and fall forward. A yelp of surprise turns into a blood-curdling scream as you sink into the smoggy abyss. The green haze around you fades into a darker shade until all around you is black nothingness. Your voice throws over into a thousand echoes that follow you. You’re still falling. At least it feels that way and for a moment you think you’ve closed your eyes; it’s hard to tell with the inky black around you.

A bright tone paints onto the surface of your closed eyes and you fall onto ground, dusty and hard, small rocks jab and scrape as you land. The brunt of the fall knocks the wind from you and you take a moment to recover your bearings, soon to rise to your feet and brush off the smears of dirt on your clothes.

“Okay. Duly noted: do not go anywhere near serpent holes,” you affirm strongly with newfound belief, only to be met by silence.

No scolding words that apprehend your actions. Not the familiar grasp of a cold, large hand that strangely warms you and causes your heart rate to pick up a little faster. No, you turn and shift on your heel to scan all directions about you.

“Uhm… Death? Vulgrim?” You’ve spun yourself into a circle a million times over by now. “Anyone? Hello?”

For certain this is not the same slice of hell you had accompanied Death to and no serpent hole was in sight. Instead, you're in some cavernous valley of dust land and patches of grass and foliage, in the distance stands the mounds of high reaching cliff sides.

Where exactly are you?

As a human evidently from earth, you had never once had the ability to traverse any realm unfamiliar. In fact, you never knew of the possible existence of them. And after meeting Death, you were strictly told to stay close. Realms harboured dangers of their own, a breed of some civilisation that undoubtedly hurt you if you ran off by yourself.

And now you’re beginning to feel that seeping dread of despair dawn within you. That sulking hopelessness that you have cast yourself to some unknown corner of the cosmos, and Death has no idea where you dropped off to.

“Death?” You ask aloud again. Were you lost forever?

You begin to head off in a direction, putting the sun to your left as you look around for ideally any serpent holes that can hopefully drop you back where you belong. With Death. Without him here, you feel like a newborn fawn stumbling on its legs. He always made you feel safe, always ensured he was between you and whatever threat that tried to get you, even if he got hurt because of it.

You continue to call out to the wind that sweeps over you, the sun beating down hard. You brush aside a flurry of hair from your face, your pace slowing exponentially as you practically stumble through this unknown territory.

That’s when that sixth sense kicks in. You’re not sure if you had been ignoring the signs before or if the feeling just came, but all the same you feel that you’re being watched.

You’ve barely dived out of the way before something large crashes behind you, the scraping of claws digging into the crusty soil and the shifting balance of weight kicks up a cloud of dust behind the force of the leaping attack. Turning to face whatever it was, you grimace at the sight of a mangy looking hound that dwarfs you. Its skin is a burnt hue of reddish pink like it suffered constant exposure to the sun, what matted fur that lined its spine and cuffed around its ribs was a dark, sandy brown with dark, faded stripes. Its ears twitch as a high pitched wheeze passes through its open jaw that pries open like a snake. Rows of black teeth are coated in an oily surface of dripping saliva.

You see another grapple down the cliff face to join the first, this one notably smaller, but not by much. Then another of the same size joins the second, each one stalking closer to corner you in.

A piercing sharpness fills your chest and your hand grasps at the handle of your dagger. A simple form of defence, highly unlikely to fend off the predators easily, but better than nothing.

Right about now, that favourable reaper of yours would be excellent company. There were so many things you wished you had said, times you procrastinated moving that bit closer to his side by the evening campfire meant for your safety and sanity. You fear that this is your end. For your quest in restoring humanity, one more human will be lost today, and Death will have to bear that burden. It saddens you in a way. That the guilt would eat away at him.

One of the smaller hounds takes no more than a few steps forward, just about ready to pounce at you before a humming force sings through the air and with a meaty crunch of bone and mushed brain, an all familiar scythe fatally sheathed in its skull.

You fall back on your arse, a relieved grin digs deep into your cheeks as you think Death has somehow found you.

You look around, eager to see him, barely catching something fast cut through the corner of your vision. The next thing you know, the head of the second smaller hound rolls over, its tongue hanging loosely between its jaws, the decapitated appendage just resting at the heel of your boots. The sight makes you grumble in dull disgust.

However, you are brought into the shadow of the larger creature that now towers above you, caught with a gulp in your throat. By your lucky stars, its attention diverts from you and to your rescuer and dives forward.

You only just turn your head when a pained shriek howls through the air and a severed limb flies some distance away. Followed by another and then a third limb, leaving the defeated creature to begin crawling away with a distorted whine.

His silhouette bathed in the scorching sun is a sight of relief, though his attire had changed. Not the draping tabard of violet tied about his waist or the deep purple scarf hung over his shoulders. Mostly an assortment of bandages wrapped and woven around his arms, clad in iron fittings. He steps after the beast, following along the weeping trail of blood smeared into the dirt, scythes coming together as the long staff of Harvester and placed to his back.

Your face contorts in response to the sheer brutality before you, visage twitching in your frazzled comprehension. Yes, Death had a very violent tendency to be dangerously savage, but he was well versed in being precise, but never at this level. Seeing him utilise naught but his inhuman strength at his disposal and his hands, he rips the hound’s upper jaw clean off until sheets of sinew and muscle were reduced to hair-thin threads.

He drops the unhinged part to his feet with a wet, clumpy thump. Even you have to internally argue that Death may have lost himself a little there. When his head turns over his shoulder, the flicker of an amber glow catching you in his sights, you cannot help the reaction to freeze as you roll onto your belly.

Something unfamiliar resides in his gaze like he’s seeing you for the first time. But rather than the confusion of an older entity seeing one of the many souls still alive, there is a frenzy of anger – adrenaline running a high river through him, driving him bloodmad.

His upper body then begins to turn only to halt when you utter his name, form rigid in his study of you. Again, you try, “Death? Hey, it’s me.”

Immediately you’re met by the unsheathed blade of Harvester aimed against you and you skitter back with a hiss as the massive blade knicks your cheek.

“Hey! Careful with that— what’s gotten into you?”

“Who are you?”

Your face scrunches, a morphed complaint of your confusion. He only attempts to raise his scythe to your neck with a threat to render you headless at his whim.

“I-it’s me, hello!” you laugh with bitter nervousness, “you know me. Y/N, the human you’ve been travelling with.”

He gives no form of recollection. Not that he’s easy to read with that mask of his, hiding all but the expression in his eyes. Or the way he narrows them upon hearing one word: Human. Call it intuition, a gut feeling, a divine touch; you feel that that word held some powerful trigger to the Horseman before you. And none that you had seen in him before. Almost a zeal of intense excitement flourishes in the furnace heart of his eyes.

“A human?” Harvester balances in his grasp to lean against his shoulder, a curious tilt of his head somehow influences you to mimic the action with an affirmative hum.

“Uh-huh. We were on our way to restore humanity. We went extinct, remember?”

“Really now?”

When he begins to stalk closer and inching the gap between you shorter, you find yourself taking a few steps back. Something was… off. Death isn’t like his usual self. The concept of humans didn’t really phase him in such a way before. He just thought of humanity and their restoration as a mere key to gaining his brother’s freedom. Somehow integral to the balance but never once serving importance to him. But now, before your very eyes, he appears with a dark excitement as he looks you over. Like your very existence piques him.

Was he flirting with his leash ten yards behind him?

Now that’s very unlike your old reaper—

There’s a thought: he is not… that old. Sure, old by some standard in the scheme of time, but compared to when you were travelling together, you come to realise how noticeably younger he is. And still, he advances towards you until his shadow overthrows you, drowning you in it.

Even if you wanted to chalk up your thoughts to some conspiracy, you also notice that there is a sore lack of soul-cursed shards embedded into the taut muscle of his chest.

Alright. Now you’re beginning to put the pieces of this puzzle together. You have somehow landed in the great, great past.

It’s like your wish became a manifested reality.

Bathed in the sunless dark of his shadow, your feet intend to shuffle back, only for his arm that handles his massive scythe extends forth, the pole of it acting as some guard that keeps you from moving any further away.

You mumble to yourself then, resigning in your compliance to remain where you stand. He may not be trying to directly hurt you now, but if given the motivation, you could yet stand corrected.

He continues to stare at you, long and hard pressing, you feel like an ant under the heated blink of a glass scope that is threatened to burn. A matter of curiosity is all you can surmise it to the way his neck extends forward, bending down until the bone form of his masked nose hovers over you, near deathly silent but still largely inhaling your scent.

The act is enough for that heated flush to deep into your skin.

“Hey—hey, easy there, big guy,” you warn, voice wavering from the way he merely tilts his head before leaning in again. “No, I said n-no! Stop that—no, that tickles!”

Upon you practically beating him away with the ferocity of your mitten gloves, he then circles you like a predatory beast.

“How is this possible? Humanity’s creation has not yet come,” he inquisitively says.

You give a shrug, choosing to be a little more careful of your words. Would anything you do or say alter time itself and affect your supposed present?

Just with you being here would be enough to do just that if Death’s claim that humans weren’t born yet is true.

“Uh, well… it’s not so simple to explain. You see, I er—”

Shit this was getting more and more difficult to explain with the growing anxiety dangerously lurking over you like a foreboding cloud.

“I’m not from here.”

You can almost see his brow curve upward under the mask. “Evidently,” he drawls deeply in response.

With a roll of your eyes you try again.

“All I know is that I somehow fell through some serpent hole and got transported back in time. Now, I gotta find a way back.”

“You mean to leave?”

Already turning your back on him – unaware of such a grave mistake – you only nod in response, your eyes last to leave him. Who knows how much longer you will have to endure here before Death finds and rescues you from his younger self.

But that just isn’t in your stack of cards. Again you’re almost blown to the four winds and land on the cushion of your arse, grumbling in pain as you stare up at him, standing right in the way of your path.

Your lips purse tightly together, you hiss, “Death!”

He crouches in front of you, ignoring the way you attempt to pry him and push him away as he moves a hand forward. He holds your wrist at bay before you can land a firm push to his mask to shove him away, his amber eyes dance with a certain level of intrigue and his head tilting to the side leaves his raven hair to saddle alongside the motion.

He peels the grubby article off your hand to reveal the bareness of your skin and you find yourself holding your own breath.

His own hand measures yours, palm to palm and you feel the roughened contour of his skin. His body radiates with an off-centred heat, not entirely cold as he is in the present with you but the morph of warmth isn’t so smothering unlike some infernal realm you know. You almost see the softness that crosses his features beneath the boney helm of his mask, like the cracks of emotion are being revealed without your exact know-how.

But you’ve known Death for some time now. You’ve been in his company. If this is some revelation of a breakthrough, then you see it before your very eyes.

Each finger lines to one another. A curtain of silence falls over the both of you until your eyes meet. A smile creeps over your lips then.

“Must you truly go?” he’s sudden to ask beneath the gravel baritone of his chords. With a sigh, you only nod your head.

His eyes harden at this, something distraught lines his concealed face only to be betrayed by the levelled glow of his eyes, but nevertheless he stands, no longer keeping you from running off. As you make your way to stand on your own two feet, brushing off the particles of dirt off your clothes, you notice Death’s prolonged stare.

“What is it?”

He only shakes his head, a gruff response of, “Nothing.”

Though his reply is suspiciously vague, you both venture off into the great unknown, however much you believe that Death is more accustomed to the land than you.

Hours pass as the sun begins to ride your backs and no sight of any serpent holes, leaving you with a feeling of exhausted anguish. As the night creeps in as a shadowy blanket over the sky and turns the humid air colder, you pull your shawl over your body as a chill licks your spine.

Death — no not your Death, the younger one — takes notice, eying you from the side of his vision.

“What’s wrong?”

You jerk your head in his direction with eyes wide in your perked alertness. “Hm? Oh, I’m just cold is all. Usually I’d have a fire set up by now to rest…”

Would it be wise to add that it was him — older him — beside you and ensuring you settle into your makeshift camp? Unsure, you keep that to yourself.

When he places an overly large hand to your shoulder, you stumble on your heel and pause, watching Death’s head scan the horizon and the upper cliff faces until he stops. You turn your head and notice just in the crevice of shadow and fading sunlight the blackened mouth of a cave.

Your eyes light up at the thought of rest despite your circumstances and you already begin your trek towards the rocky climb, though you now see the rather steep slope it resides to reach the haven. With a grumble, your determination steers you to climb anyways, your feet stumbling and causing small pebbles to scatter down the face.

Hands then grab hold of you and before you’re able to fight or protest, Death scuttles up in a matter of seconds with you hanging on for dear life. After he sets you down, you huff out, “Thanks.”

He gives a gruff sound in response with a curt nod, then turns to scour the new site of camp. It wasn’t so much as a cave as you thought, moreso of a sheltered crop in the rocks, providing enough area to protect you from the elements but also invites the cool winds to breeze on past.

Making a fire was a challenge than it usually was, making due with what you had on hand, and Death sets Harvester to his side, leaning it against the wall. He doesn’t think you pose that much of a threat to warrant its persistent sheath.

He however finds some interest in how you kindle the birth of flames, crafting it from almost nothing.

Looking up at him from your position, you laugh softly to yourself. “Yeah, I know. Humans are so weak and strange. But it’s what we do. How we were made, I guess.”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Death says with a clearly risen brow. His answer does bring you surprise. After all, Death had many times sighed and chuffed about how humans did the most silly of things – things that were key to your survival, keeping that in mind.

“Well… you will. Someday.”

“How is it that you know me?” he asks, crouching on the fire’s opposite side, facing you. As much as you think it unwise to share anymore knowledge, you cannot deny that you feel almost safe around him, no matter the fact that he’s younger. In the prime of his bloodlust.

But he hasn’t killed me yet. Tried to, but hasn’t.

“It’s going to sound strange but… I’m from the future. And in that future, we are travelling together.”

“Because you said something of Humanity’s demise.”

He’s Death alright. A keen observant to detail. You nod in reply before continuing, “and as I said, I fell through some sort of timeline and landed here in the past. The way, way past. So far that humans aren’t even created yet, as you’ve said.”

To this, he nods in turn and it brings you to smile. You feel as though he silently applauds your own recollection for detail.

“Death, how old are you?”

Yes, it is indeed perhaps a very stupid decision to ask his age, but the nature of curiosity humans are notoriously known for gets the better of you. His eyes flicker with momentary stutter, taken aback by such a question, but one he doesn’t ultimately deny in answering.

“Today is my day of creation… I’m a thousand-and-one—”

Your eyes go wide and you shoot up to your feet with a cheer. “What? Happy Birthday!”

Your voice is a loud noise to the shell of his hearing and it spurns him to the defence, beckoning Harvester to fly to his hand within an instant. You’re quickly covering your mouth, uttering your apologies at spooking him.

Settling back down, this time to his side, you flash him a shy, toothy grin. “But that’s exciting!”

“What is a ‘birthday’?”

You gasp at the shocking revelation. “It’s a celebration. When humans are born on a certain day, it’s a tradition to celebrate it every year.”

Then it pops into your mind, again sending the nephilim beside you to flinch at your motion, you stir up a fuss of plucking a twig from the flames before it’s entirely devoured. Holding it, single flame slow to eat away the kindle, you beam as you stare at Death with large, doe-like eyes.

“Make a wish!”

“A what?” He scoffs, only to see you dramatically roll your eyes until they’re nearly rolling out of their sockets. “A wish. You make a wish, something you really want, and then blow out the flame. Another tradition on your birthday.”

His eyes narrow to thin points, sceptical that perhaps you were using something to your advantage. When he sees that you don’t have any ill intent to deceive him, he shuffles in his spot slightly to face you, body arching ever so over yours; his height even at this level towers over you.

You whisper softly, “Like this.”

Making the motion of blowing out the makeshift candle with your mouth, the campfire casting an orange hue to your skin paints you in a fine detail that the nephilim cannot help but study closely until a there’s a skip in his chest.

His hand raises to his mask but stops and you see the hesitance to continue any further. Understanding that it very well could be because of your presence, you tilt your chin down and squeeze your eyes shut.

A gust beats across your face, skirting the wisps of hair away and then just as promptly as he’d lifted his mask, he’d lowered it just in time for you to peel your eyes open. Again, you smile.

He’s the first to crack through the veil of tension between you both, standing on his feet.

“Get some rest, girl.”

The next day, you finally see in the distance the familiar halo of green and sick looking mists, but it is your ticket home nonetheless. You skip ahead and towards it, laughing at the thought of reuniting with Death and telling him of your adventure.

But then you stop. Not another skip in your step. You turn around to see Death, body rigid but his chin is aimed down and his eyes don’t exactly meet yours. Approaching him cautiously, you halt a few feet before him, hands pinned behind you.

“I guess this is goodbye…”

You don’t very much like the eternal sound to your farewell. Like you’re losing him forever.

He drawls out, low and lessened of any sort of emotion, but you swear you note a hint of sadness in his tone. “My wish didn’t come true.”

“What was your wish?”

His eyes rise to meet yours and you feel your heart splinter. Why did it feel so wrong to want to go back to Death in the future? Why did everything that wasn’t with him feel so, so wrong?

“I wish that you would stay here.”

“I can’t stay. I’m not from this time.” Your words do little to ease that which internally troubles him. Your hands coax his jaw to lift upwards until he stands, prouder and much taller over you that you have to balance on the toes of your feet. Then, you sweep your arms around him. His body is stiff to meet your hug but you care little in that regard. He’s always been one less evident of his affections, a tendency you’re completely fine with.

“But I promise that we will meet again in the future. After all, that’s who I’m going back to through the serpent hole. To you.”

There it is, that flicker in his eyes that reveals in them a shiny glow of fire that you feel warms your heart in many ways. Pressing a chaste kiss to the toughened chin of his mask, you offer one last smile and bid your farewells with a wave, promising that you will see each other again before you jump into the serpent hole, disappearing into the green mists.

You yelp as the void sends you crashing yet again and you fear that you have stumbled into yet another realm in another time. But for the first time, you find yourself relieved to hear Vulgrim’s slimy voice announce your arrival.

“Ah! And there she is, the curious little mouse who doesn’t keep away from serpent holes,” he snides with a raspy coil like a snake getting ready to strike.

“Vulgrim,” you poke your tongue out, brushing your hair from your face and you look to see Death charging his way to you.

“There you are,” he says almost wistfully, hands pressed to your shoulders. A tender action even with the glare clear in his gaze. “What were you thinking? What happened to you?”

You know that beneath the roughness of his callous tone, he means well. He was worried and the look upon his younger self’s face as you left, you find yourself pulling yourself into him and embracing him.

“I promised you that we’d meet again.”

His arms weave themselves around your waist, holding you to bear you closer in his embrace. “Yes, you did.”

#headlinesxcomics publishing #happyfic hour #darksiders x reader #darksiders #darksiders death #darksiders 2 #death x reader #darksiders death x reader #darksiders fanfiction

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olderthannetfic · 1 month ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/763697061137940480/

Well, forgive me for not feeling too bad about making one stupid shipping joke in the cafeteria and causing offense to someone who overheard my conversation with a friend. And you know what? I had to politely explain to her that it was a joke and that I didn't mean anything by it as she tried to equate whateverthefuck I was saying to systemic violence, using the language that describes my experience as a disabled afab queer Asian against me. I had to just patiently take it, lest it cause even more offense.

Meanwhile I had to stare down a room full of socilogy students and defend the existence of nonbinary people, knowing full well that most of them approved of the people who went around the social science building to write "there are only two genders" on every board they could. Knowing full well that students refused to use our nonbinary professor's preferred pronouns. Knowing full well that our queer association's president almost got violently assaulted for being pansexual. Knowing full well that our school makes a show of being progressive but that they actually couldn't give two shits about queer students.

Cry me a fucking river

Hi, heterophobia anon here. (OTNF, would it be possible to stitch this to the earlier ask? Thanks either way) I kind of wanted to apologize for my over emotional follow up to the other anon. I took that ask very personally, and felt it was both a condemnation of my character and an endorsement of the person who confronted me, which was one single event in an incredibly traumatic long chain of queerphobia I experience at my school. And honestly, even if it was a condemnation of me and an endorsement of her, I don't think I should have reacted like that. Anon had no context of who I am and who she was, they just knew that I made a joke that reminded them of self-righteous online haters who think that hating majority demographics is activism. That's not who I am. I shouldn't have felt attacked. The genesis of the "queerphobia" joke is actually a play on the idea of shipping as activism. "If you don't ship these racial minorities, you're racist", "if you don't ship this same sex couple, you're homophobic", etc. Therefore, if I don't ship MF, then I must be heterophobic. The joke in this situation was that I didn't ship this incredibly popular ship in our fandom, and it's because I'm just sooo heterophobic. It's an inside joke for a reason, so I don't fault anon for thinking that they would avoid me irl if they heard me. I don't think anon expected the person who confronted me to be a queerphobic racist who absolutely traumatized me (which I didn't even realize at the time.) It's only after sending that first ask that I understood why the interaction stuck so hard to my mind. I was trying to make light of my fears by sending a "dunk" ask about how stupid that person was. So when people pushed back, I overreacted, despite the fact that nobody could have known the context. Sorry for the word vomit, but I don't really have anywhere else to dump all this. My friend is much more "out" than I am, so they're probably more stressed than me. I didn't want to add more on top

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stormblessed95 · 2 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/stormblessed95/759977420741902336/jikookers-say-that-they-wish-that-jikook-would

So like a lot of your content, this ask left your space and was posted on Twitter (I’m mad that the feed refreshed before I decided to save the link😭). The thing I found interesting though is how people in this space view Jikook versus how people outside of this space do. I got what anon meant by them staying in the glass closet and keeping as far away from the media as possible but sooo many people in that tweets comments seemed pissed about it. The majority of the comments were saying how we can’t expect them to live in the closet forever, don’t you know how much better they would feel if they could just be free and open, the media would just make a big deal out of the situation for a couple of weeks and then move on, they would get some hate but jikookers would make sure they knew they were loved and supported, if they really loved each other they would come out and be proud, etc. etc.

Idk I’m just like wow you really did curate a lgbtq+ friendly space on your blog here. Because half the stuff people were saying wasn’t exactly malicious but it did seem to just be outside of reality. Because the thing is, I think the guys are out. To their friends, their family and the people that they love and trust. Maybe not from the start and maybe not even for as long as they’ve been together but I genuinely cant see two people who are so genuine, honest and confident being 100% in the closet. I feel like if these people on twitter could put themselves in the guys shoes instead of just thinking about it from a fans perspective then they would realize that. Because glass closet doesn’t mean stay in the closet but more like just never confirm anything so even if they get side eyes from people, nobody actually has any solid proof against them.

Idk but anyways thanks for existing Storm. I avoid Jikook spaces besides the few I trust on Tumblr at this point so thanks for making me feel so comfy here.

I always feel weird whenever I'm reminded I don't actually exist in a Tumblr bubble and I'm NOT actually speaking into the void here like I expected when I started this blog. I also didn't realize that *many* of my posts ended up on Twitter. That's a strange feeling too. I know one did and I claimed it, gained like 200+ followers, panicked and went private 😂😂 and then mostly kept that account separate from this one. I did share my Tumblr handle on there last year as well once too. So I guess there have been a limited few chances to discover my twitter handle if you are looking 😂

And thank you for the kind words. I really do try to make this a safe space. That's all I really want it to be . Thank you for existing too anon 💜💜💜💜

#messages to storm

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one-green-frog · 11 months ago

Text

Post Surgery Cuddles

Hobie x ftm!reader

Fluff

Thank you for requesting anon, and sorry this took so long as you know tumblr isnt really nice to me rn :)

Y/N spent the day sitting on the couch and being pampered by Hobie, his lovely boyfriend. Just a few days ago, he finally got his top surgery, after many long nights working overtime and saving like a mad man. Hobie, the supportive boyfriend that he is, also occasionally contributed to the funds and Y/N luckily decided not to comment on the not so legally acquired money. Right now Hobie is in the kitchen preparing a neal for both of them, the surgery was draining for both of them. He was worried that soemthign might go wrong during it, but luckily Y/N came out drowsy and disoriented .

"They took my boobs" will forever be ingrained in Hobie's mind, and nothing will stop him at reminding his boyfriend of the many, many embarassing things he said while doped up on pain medication.

Y/N couldn't wish for a better partner in life, Hobie always prioritized him, he even "neglected" his Spider-man duties for him. The pre-surgery anxiety really hit him hard and he is so thankful that Hobie stayed with him all the time. Late night movies that turned into a cuddle session, home-cooked meals that turned into an eating contest, it didn't matter, Hobie was always there to take his mind off of any bad thoughts.

While this was great for Y/N you needed all the support and kind words Hobie offered his absence in a certain HQ caused some troubles. Especially for Miguel. But let's be honest, Hobie wouldn't care what Miguel thinks of him, his boyfriend needed him and that was all he could think about. Although he did forget to mention his leave to a certain group of spider-teens, who decided to take matters into their own hands.

Miles, Gwen and Pavitr all came to Hobie's dimension and started to look for him at their usual meet-up spots, but unfortunately they couldn't find him anywhere. As they ran out of places to look, Pav suggested tracking his watch, Miles was hesitant at first but he didn't have a better idea and they wanted to make sure that Hobie was actually alright. When they pinned down his location and arrived they weren't expecting to look through an apartment window at a romantic Hobie spoon feeding who was presumably his partner.

Sensing some eyes on them, both Hobie and Y/N turned to look out the window and saw 3 pairs of eyes looking back at them. Not wanting to force them to stick on the wall outside, Hobie opened the window for the teens to crawl inside. They stood there, embarrassed for being caught, but also glad that Hobie was still alive and well, the uncomfortable silence growing larger by the second as Hobie just sat down next to his partner again, a smug look on his face.

"Sooo.... uh, we didn't mean to..to interrupt you two, " Miles said awkwardly, removing his mask. "We were just worried since you didn't show up... for quite some time, 0" Gwen chimed in, all the while Pavitr used the time to admire the appartement and talk about how great it was decorated.

"Sorry, but my boyfriend here needed mew and thinking that my sudden absence would also piss of Miguel I killed two birds with one stone. Although I did seem to forget to tell you lads. "

Realizing that Hobie was alright while also hinting for them to leave so he could spend some quality time with his boyfriend, the teens left. Through the window.

Finally getting the peace and quiet back into the apartment, Hobie began to tell Y/N some stories about the gangs adventures while feeding Y/N, who still persisted that he didn't need that much help. The rest of the day was spent with his and cuddles and the occasional pill when the pain from the surgery intensified.

Again I'm sorry this took me so long to finish, i hope you like it.

#male reader #x male reader #astv #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #atsv hobie #hobie x reader #hobie x male reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #ftm reader

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gyll-yee-haw · 11 months ago

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Hiii! Can you please write something for Louis Bloom? He’s sooo bad but he is just so hot I have a hard time hating him 😭 Merry Christmas!

Hiii! Merry Christmas for you too, anon, thank you for this wonderful gift, my first request since I came back <3

Hm yeah, if people don't want us to fall in love with psychos, they need to stop hiring Jake Gyllenhaal to play then yk...

Warnings: oral (male recieving), balls worship, manipulation (from both sides, but heavier on his), description of violence, blood, accidents and other typical Lou Bloom activities (he doesn't hurt reader).

Like 1.7k words

You were new in town. You didn't know about Louis's reputation. The two of you had just started going out and you didn't know much about his job... all you knew was the gleam in his eyes whenever he talked about it, always mentioning he was very successful. You also knew that he worked VERY hard, cause more than once you've seen him spend the entire evening out, or simply drop everything he's doing when he hears about something that could make it to the news. And you would watch his material on TV smiling proudly at his hard work.

You couldn't imagine how hard it must be for him to witness such horrible, tragic events and document everything... again... you didn't know him very well yet.

Time passed and the two of you only grew closer. Louis was fascinated by your innocence... about how you would always receive him with open arms and whispers of "my poor Lou" after a particular long night, or how you'd be horrified after seeing his images on TV, saying things like "oh baby, you must be a hero, how can you endure this kind of thing?".

It just drove him crazy. He was living a double life... he would be the most absolute cruel and unhinged man on the dark streets of LA, and come back to you as a man of many sacrifices. Just when he thought it couldn't be more perfect, he has this idea: the worse his job looked to you, the more you would admire him.

The next night was the first night he came home covered in blood. You almost had a heart attack.

"Lou!" You ran towards him. "What happened to you? Are you hurt?"

"No, it's okay, baby, I'm okay..." He put on his saddest face. "I just... I was out there doing my job, you know... but I... Oh, my love, I did something terrible..."

"What do you mean, Lou? What happened?" You asked nervously.

"You know I'm not supposed to interfere on the scene, but... I couldn't help it... there was this child... he was very hurt on the accident, I just had to help him!"

You hugged him and cried proudly, trying to calm him down, telling him it was okay... oh, little did you know he was calmer than ever as he lied and manipulated you, smirking into the hug as he watched you fall into his trap.

But his need for your attention and affection grew completely out of his control. His storied became more and more absurd and he started to... cause some... situations on purpose, just so he would have new stories to tell you about how brave he was.

Louis was always the type to be behind the cameras, but more than once he filmed himself dragging a victim of a car accident or carrying an unconscious person around, heavily editing it afterwards, to make it look like he was saving them... and he didn't even sell those images, they were only for you to see, with the excuse that he was so humble and didn't want the fame, he just wanted to help.

But he just couldn't fool you forever, no matter how hard he tried. The absurdity of his stories increased drastically and he didn't know where to stop... Louis was smart and cold when it came to the lies he sold for the television, not when it came for the ones he told to you.

And that's when you decided to investigate.

You knew that every time he allowed himself to close his eyes, he would sleep very heavily, since it was so rare. But you needed to make sure of it. So you planned a pretty exhausting night for him...

"Hi, baby" you greeted him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as soon as he walked into the apartment that night. "Hope you're not too tired..."

"Hey, love. I'm fine, What do you have in mind?" he smiled back, not suspecting anything.

"Wanted to treat you real good..." you said, moving your hand down his chest, over his shirt. "You deserve to relax a bit..."

"Yeah?" He smirked and you nodded, big doe eyes acting innocent, like you knew it would drive him crazy.

You guided him towards the sofa while he kissed you passionately, his hands softly on your waist. He sat on the sofa and you kneeled on the floor, in front of him. The look on his face made you forget about your plan immediately. And the part of you that remembered it, felt extremely guilty... you couldn't do that to him. He was such a loving, caring boyfriend, you had no reason to suspect he had been doing anything wrong.

He unbuttoned his shirt, as your hands worked on his pants, pulling them down to his knees. You could see through his underwear that he was starting to get hard.

"Come on, angel, let me see those pretty tits, huh?" He asked in his sweetest tone.

You didn't hesitate to remove your top, playing with your tits in front of him, watching his smile grow wider and his dick get harder.

"Lay back, Lou... let me take care of you, okay?" You insisted. "Just relax, I'll be so good for you... put on a show like you deserve..."

"Fuck, little girl..." he frowned, dick now throbbing. He obeyed, though, letting you pull his underwear down.

As his cock sprung free, your mouth watered. What a fool you were! Acting like you could control him when you were down that bad... cock drunk before even having a taste...

You grabbed his shaft, tongue running up and down slowly, getting him wet. You started stroking him as your mouth went to his balls. You sucked and caressed and drooled all over them, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he moaned in pleasure. Louis was the type to hide his moans, but he barely could when you worshipped his balls this good...

You could tell he was getting impatient and the last thing you wanted was to lose control of the situation. If he decided to be in charge, you knew you were in trouble. So you took his shaft in your mouth, little by little, until it hit the back of your throat. You moaned as you did it, hands squeezing your own tits as you tried not to gag. Every movement you made was designed to keep him entertained, to keep him lost in the moment.

Your head bobbed faster as his words and praises got more and more filthy. As he went from "Fuck, you're doing so well, my sweet angel, keep going, you're making me feel so good" to "Fucking whore, so hungry for this cock, bet you can't wait to swallow all I have to give you".

And fuck, you were grateful when he came down your throat, giving you an unexplainable feeling of joy as you watched your man so satisfied, so... calm... maybe a little... sleepy.

"Come on, Lou... let's go to bed... you must be so exhausted." You suggested. He didn't argue, even though he didn't like not returning the favor you just did for him. He just had a long day, and he would be able to please you harder and better in the morning, not now.

The ache between your legs after sucking him off and not getting any attention afterwards worked as some kind of fuel to carry on with your plan. You left him sound asleep in his room, closing the door and walking to the living room as silently as possible, finding his computer there.

Not a single suspicion you had before could have prepared you for what you would find there. That wasn't the sweet Louis you knew... the way he dragged extremely hurt people around the streets, positioning them like they were toys... he didn't seem to be... helping them. Took you a while to understand that it was all fake. He had been creating entire scenes from scratch, he was a fucking actor... you shivered as you heard a woman screaming for him to stop as he manipulated her body like a doll... the way he told her to shut up...

"You know that's really none of your business, darling."

Your blood froze. You wouldn't dare to look up, but you could feel him standing beside you. How long has he been there?

"Lou, I can explain..." your eyes filled with tears.

"I know you can." He sighed, sittind beside you on the sofa. "But I don't really wanna hear it."

You flinched as he raised his hand, but he just rested it softly on your cheek, wiping a tear away.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, sweetheart... you know I could never do that..." he reassured you. "You need to know a few things about me."

You sat still and he saw that as a sign to continue. "You see, I don't hurt anyone. I just... find them in a very bad situation and... I have to do my job, you see. And my job is not giving people the truth, my job is to give them something they wanna watch..."

"But... Lou... that's wrong..." you gathered strength to finally speak.

"Then tell me, little one, who's so bad? Me? For giving people entertainment... or is it the people who find this entertaining?" He continued caressing your cheek. "And that would include you, I'm afraid... cause you watched everything I ever showed you and you fell in love with me while you did so."

"I didn't... I didn't know..." you tried to justify it all to yourself more than to him.

"I know it's shocking, my love." He brought you closer to him, giving your forehead a kiss. "You're new here... LA, Hollywood... every magical thing you see on TV is absolutely filthy behind the cameras."

Maybe he was right, and you hated it. You knew you were being manipulated, but you just couldn't... not see how it all made sense.

"Come back to bed, princess." He offered, his voice was calm as if nothing had happened. "We can talk more about all of this tomorrow. There's so much I need to show you."

His calm attitude indicated that he knew you were sticking around, even after he revealed his true self. The fact that you took his hand and followed him back to the bedroom, showed he was right.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal smut #louis bloom smut #louis bloom #louis bloom x reader #nightcrawler

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cupiidzbow · 1 month ago

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hie i know you don't know me but i did want to reach out and say that you're so valid in sharing your discomfort and rightful anger/hurt regarding racist attacks on you, your characters, and your art. i understand what it's like when people say awful things to you on and off anon and how damaging it can be, BUT in the end know you aren't doing anything wrong. i love your art! if i could commission you, i would!!!

i think the way you draw your sona and monkeys overall is cute and charming, and furthermore, your race will never EVER make you unloveable to your f/o.

all the same know you're not alone and know you have sooo much support esp from fellow black folks and black self shippers like me!!! i hope you have a beautiful and peaceful week regardless 🥺💕 take good care of yourself!!! 💕🐒

IM REALLY SORRY I GOT TO THIS SO LATE but ouhhhh ouggghhgh……. this really means so much to me you don’t even know …… 😢😢😢😢😢 im soso sorry you had to experience your own share of mistreatment , I wish it was something you didn’t have to deal with and I wish it wasn’t something people feel so free to do ):

AND THANK YOU SO MUCH…. That’s such a sweet thing for you to say AND PLEASE DONT WORRY…. I appreciate you even thinking about wanting to! that genuinely makes me so happy! 🥹IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE HOW A DRAW MY SONA THANK YOU SO MUCH…. i love to draw silly little monkeys im so happy you feel that way…..

and you’re so right!!!! that’s something I will always remember and always ring true for everyone there’s nothing that can make you unlovable to your f/o ): especially your race ):

I appreciate you for making me feel seen and to have someone who had similar experiences to my own, it’s always such a joy seeing other black self shippers and it makes me so happy to know you’re out there too, it’s so wonderful to meet you!!!! 🥹🥹🥹 . thank you soso much for you kind words to me!! I hope you have a wonderful day and the week treats you so kindly , take care of yourself too!!! 🥹🫶🏽💕💕

#mailbox! 💌#mutuals! 🌈

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cloudlessly-light · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I feel like I keep sending my promts like a crazy fan girl. But I think I am a crazy fan girl. So I have this thing in my mind. Hotch and Em saw each other naked once and Emily knows that bossman has big dick energy and HUGE DICK in his pants. So after they got together Aaron is afraid he will hurt Emily (cause nobody could take him all inside) so that’s why he doesn’t go all the way but Emily is sooo excited and says “I want it all”. I hope I’m not too crazy :)

A/N 1: Hey all you wonderful people, I’m officially back from my little break and I have a few things in the works that I really hope you like, but first we’re going back to old school Sara and doing a Hotchniss filth based on an ask! A/N 2: Hi Anon! Thank you so much, I always like hearing that people enjoy these silly little writings of mine! Title: Give me everything you want and need Summary: Emily accidentally walks in on Aaron in the shower when they’re forced to share a room. She’s impressed. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,1k Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, BDE Hotch (Yes that deserves its own warning), multiple orgasms, spanking (blink and you miss it)

It’s an accident, it’s not like she planned for it to happen, it was one of those moments that she’d think back on and wonder why. But she was also happy that it happened, even though it was embarrassing, it was kind of their turning point.

She’s coming back from JJ’s room, the woman too pregnant for it to be fair for her to share a room so Emily had ended up sharing a room with Aaron. She didn’t know that he was back from the precinct, to be honest she kind of figured that he’d stay there all night. So she enters the hotel room and pulls her shirt off, followed by her pants and is heading into the bathroom when she sees him.

Aaron looks as shocked as she feels as he quickly grabs the towel on the sink, completely naked in front of his subordinate.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She doesn’t mean to stare, but for a moment she lets herself. She sees the droplets of water dripping from his short hair, down his chest, covered with fine dark hair and further down where she got a glimpse of Aaron Hotchner in all his glory. And what a glory it was.

“Prentiss!” He all but yells when she doesn’t immediately turn away which makes her realize that her tiny thong and almost sheer bra is barely even covering her and she slams the door shut.

“I’m sorry!” She says again through the door as she frantically pulls her clothes back on. “I-I’ll sleep in Derek’s room.” Her voice lowers as he comes out of the bathroom, towel secured around his hips and a glare in his eye. “I thought you were still at the station.” She tries to explain but he just keeps staring at her and she feels herself wanting to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s almost 2AM.” He says and she’s unsure if that’s his response to why he’s back to get a few hours of sleep, or his way to object to waking up Derek and Spencer in the next room so she just stares mutely at him.

The tension is thick, both of them simply staring at each other for what feels like hours until he sighs.

“Just, don’t mention this again.” He says and she hates the fact that her cheeks tint pink at the mere thought of him naked.

“This never happened.” She tells him and he offers a small smile.

It doesn’t surprise either of them when Emily finds herself outside his door less than two weeks later, kissing him with all the desire she’s felt for years.

But they don’t end up in bed that night, instead their kisses turn into a long talk, admittance of attraction and feelings until they fall asleep wrapped up in each other. So they start dating, and it’s easier that she’d ever thought it would be, except for the fact that Aaron would stop her wandering hands or searching lips once they got past the point of making out like teenagers.

It frustrated her, because she could feel him, huge and hard and pressing against her as she straddled his lap but he would stop her every time. A few weeks go by and she’s so wound up that she was sure that she’d implode from the heated tension that never seemed to leave her body, even after trying to take matters into her own hands, literally. But she didn’t want to rush him, she figured that he wanted to take it slow because she’d be the first woman after Haley, he wanted to be sure and she respected that.

They’re working a local case and she had just finished an interrogation with him, he had been intimidating and arrogant, bordering on aggressive with the unsub cowering in front of them. And Emily could feel the way her thighs clenched under the table, the steady thump of want, the heat of her arousal. He had always been impressive, had always demanded respect with as little as a look, but since they started dating she found it harder to control her body’s urges.

They leave Quantico that night with a case solved and a murderer in custody and Emily doesn’t question when he follows her home in his car. The team didn’t know about them yet and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t fun sneaking around.

“You were hot today.” She muses against his lips as he presses her against her front door before she turns in his arms, her hand trembling as she tries to get the key in the lock.

“Is that so?” He chuckles and presses a chaste kiss to her neck from behind and then patiently waits for her to unlock the door.

“Yes.” She opens the door and turns to take his hand, big and warm and starting to feel right in hers. “Always appreciated a handsome man in a suit, being decisive.” Her eyebrow arched as she smirked when his hands landed on her hips, pulling her closer to him just as the door closed behind him.

“I see.” He nuzzled her nose, teasing her before giving her a kiss that is supposed to be quick, but he easily finds himself unable to move away. She was addictive, a drug he never wanted to quit. He only pulled away from her when her stomach rumbled and he chuckled. “Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

“Didn’t have time for lunch.” She shrugged, it wasn’t unusual but Aaron hated when she skipped a meal and he frowned at her. “Italian?” She asked before he had a chance to reprimand her.

“Sounds good.” He was already picking up his phone and dialed the number to the restaurant he knew she loved. “Go shower, change, I’ll pick up dinner.” He smiled and Emily tried to ignore the flutter in her chest that he knew her well enough already to know that she always wanted to shower the stench of murder off her the moment she came home.

She showers quickly and changes into an old shirt and shorts that she knows are too short but she doesn’t care. The way his eyes lingers on her exposed legs when she comes back down the stairs makes satisfaction tingle along her spine and she pretends not to notice the way his jaw clenches and he swallows harder.

“This smells delicious.” She says instead and sits down at the table where he had just finished putting the food out. “Thank you, honey.” She kisses him after he’s sat down next to her, her lips lingering a little longer than necessary. She hums softly when his hand lands on her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft skin for a moment, like he’s trying to refrain himself from doing more.

“Let’s eat.” He mumbles when she pulls back and he almost groans at the familiar way her pupils dilated with want.

They eat and talk easily, always finding things to discuss and share, but there’s a tension between them, the same tension that had been in that hotel room when she walked in on him in the shower. She could tell that he was nervous but she couldn’t figure out why.

She lasts through dinner and approximately twenty minutes into the movie they decided to watch before her lips find his jaw, slow kisses pressed against his stubble as she laid halfway on top of him already. His respond is almost immediate, his hands tightening on her waist and moving down to grab her ass, his lips on hers as he pushes his tongue against hers.

“Aaron.” She sighs into his mouth and it’s breathy and low and he groans. The sound encourages her and she straddles him fully, her hands on his chest as she looks down at him.

“Em.” He tries to control his body, but the mere thought of having to stop her again felt like an impossibility. He had wanted her for years, the last few weeks had been close to agony, but he didn’t want to hurt her, knew that he probably would because how could he not when no woman had been able to take him before?

“Don’t.” She whispered, her hands fisting his shirt in desperation. “Please don’t.” She grinded on his lap, felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her through his pants.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said quietly, his eyes moving over her face and he could see the realization hitting her.

“You won’t hurt me.” She said softly but she could feel want and desperation clouding her senses, her hips subtly continuing to roll against his.

“No one’s been able to- to take all of me.” He almost stuttered over his words and he was sure Emily’s eyes only darkened, her cheeks flushing pink as she leaned down to press a teasing kiss against his lips.

“I want it all, I want all of you so badly I can’t even think straight.” She whispered, her words falling against his face in soft puffs. “I’ll stop you if it’s too much.” She promises and she can feel his hands gripping her tighter, his eyes boring into hers. “I promise.”

He takes another moment but he can see the desperation on her face, can feel her body pressing into his and his own arousal painstakingly clear.

“Okay.” He nodded and kissed the grin from her lips. “But let’s go upstairs to your bed, more room.” He smirked at the way her eyebrow arched and then all but chased her up the stairs as she hurried up towards the bed.

Emily laughs when he pulls her against his body, immediately going to tug her shirt over her head. She gasped as he licked over her pulse, bit the junction of her neck and shoulder, his hands moving the newly exposed skin until he tugs her nipples between gun-calloused fingers.

“I’ve thought about this since that damn bathroom.” He mumbled against her ear and she shivered.

“You’ve been the one making me wait.” She tries to tease but it packs little punch when she whimpers and arches into his touch. Her fingers move over the buttons on his shirt quickly and she thinks she deserve some credit for not just tearing it open in her haste to get him naked and inside of her.

“No more waiting.” He all but growls and pushes her back onto the bed. His eyes rake over her exposed torso, his fingers soon pulling her shorts off her hips, a smirk on his lips when he realizes she’s not wearing underwear. “Dirty girl.” His voice is so low she shudders from it, his eyes predatory as he crawls between her spread legs.

She tries to sneak a hand between them to get his belt unbuckled but grabs her hand, pins both of them above her head with a low hum of satisfaction as the other move between their bodies, the tip of his finger moving through her wetness gently.

“Gotta get you ready.” He mumbles lowly then kisses the whine from her lips as he pushes one finger inside of her. “So fucking wet, already.”

She blushes, the pink of her cheeks trailing down her chest as her hips buckle into his touch.

“You’ve teased me for weeks.” She huffs and he chuckles at her impatience, his smirk only widening when he pushes a second finger inside of her and curls them causing her to arch into him.

“So tight.” He breathes against her neck and she twists in his grip but he only tightens his hold on her wrists. “You’re going to come all over my hand.” His words are hushed and she can’t do anything but whimper in response. “And then you’re going to take all of my cock, aren’t you?” His hips grind into the bed at the thought, his hesitations gone now that they had gotten this far.

“Yes,” She whines “all of it, please.” Her legs widened as the palm of his hand rubbed against her clit, the pleasure building steadily as he kept curling his thick fingers inside of her, her wetness coating his hand. Her jaw went slack and her head fell back against the bed when he pressed a third finger inside of her, stretching her cunt and making her moan breathlessly.

“That’s it, good girl.” He watched the pleasure reflected on her face, could feel her walls tightening around his fingers.

“Don’t stop.” She gasped as her thighs trembled. Her hips buckled into his hand, her body chasing the release she had craved for weeks. “I’m so close- I- fuck!” Her orgasm ripped through her fast and hard, causing her to gasp for air as her eyes rolled back and her hands fisted above her.

Aaron bit back a groan as she came all over his fingers, her pussy so tight he could barely move his fingers so he focused on pressing the heel of his hand against her clit, drawing out her pleasure until she was whimpering and trembling underneath him. When she finally relaxed he gently let go of her wrists and removed his fingers from inside of her. He licked her wetness off them and waited for her to stop panting with a smug look on his face.

“Aaron,” She breathed as her eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him, dark eyes, breathing labored, his cock hard and huge as it strained inside his pants. “fuck me.” She sat up so fast he barely registered it and claimed his lips in a kiss, her hands moving to get his belt unbuckled and pants undone. She helped him kick them away and when he finally hovered above her again she wrapped her legs around his hips.

He groaned against her lips as the tip of him nudged between her lips, let himself grind against her for a few moments, coating the underside of his shaft with her. He looked down at her when he pushed his cockhead slowly inside of her, careful not to go too fast.

Emily whimpered at the stretch, his cock easily the biggest she’d ever had inside of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he pressed inch after inch inside of her, the stretch painful but deliciously addictive.

“Don’t fucking stop.” She grunted when he faltered, her legs tightening around him. Her eyes met his and she nodded at his wordless question. “Don’t stop.” She repeated quietly.

“Fuck Em, you’re perfect.” He mumbled against her lips as they kissed messily, his hips pressing into hers until he was fully inside of her. She was clenching around his shaft, trying to accommodate to the stretch, but instead of pushing him away she relished in it.

“Move, Aaron move.” She warned, desperate for him. She could feel every ridge of him, could feel her the slightly painful stretch morph into pleasure when he started to pull back, her walls clinging to him.

He groaned loudly as he started to thrust, slow and long strokes of his hips, almost pulling out before filling her completely over and over again.

“Fucking made for me, made to take my cock.” He mumbled between haste kisses against her neck, his forehead soon landing on her shoulder as he started to fuck her harder.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking big.” She panted as her short nails scratched over his shoulders and arms, leaving evidence of her on his skin. He was hitting into her perfectly, making the heat of a second orgasm build in record time, her moans and whimpers only spurring him on.

“Come on me again, let me feel you squeeze my cock.” He pushed up to kneel between her legs, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in circles.

She could barely breathe as he forced another orgasm through her, her back arching and hands fisting the sheets to keep herself grounded as the heat inside of her expanded by every thrust of his hips.

His name fell from her lips like a mantra, the only word she could get out through her loud moans until she was coming again with a cry of pleasure. She could barely hear his grunt as she tightened around him, could barely focus on anything but the earth-shattering pleasure of her orgasm until he was flipping her around and filling her from behind.

“Your cunt is mine.” He growled in her ear as he straddled her thighs and fucked her into the bed, no longer concerned that she wouldn’t be able to take him. “Say it!” He spanked her twice in quick succession and she only pushed her ass up, so he did it again.

“My cunt is yours.” She whined, the slight sting of his hand only making her shiver with want.

“Good girl.” His graveled voice sent tingles down her spine, his hands on either side of her shoulders, keeping her trapped between his strong chest and the soft bed. “Gonna fill you up.”

Emily couldn’t answer, she could barely breathe as he fucked her hard enough to make her body jolt, her clit pushed into the bed by every thrust. She was too sensitive, it was too much, it was perfect. She felt his teeth dig into the back of her neck, felt his ragged breathing against her sweaty skin as he chased his own release.

“Aaron, please…” She wasn’t sure what she was begging for, her mind delirious and hazy, all she could feel was him, all she could think about was him.

“Gonna cum again?” It was rhetorical, his voice smug even as he panted above her, he felt her body tense, felt her walls tighten and Emily nodded.

“Yes, yes, yes I’m so close.” She felt his fingers intertwine with hers as his hips somehow sped up even more, slamming into her hard enough for the bed to quake.

“Come with me.” He grunted in her ear, the strain in his voice palpable. She was still nodding when her orgasm ripped through her, dragging him with her as they strained and moaned together.

Emily felt the heat of his release deep inside of her, making her gasp and then he collapsed beside her exhausted body, his panting harsh as he started to laugh.

“That was amazing.” He pulled her into him, pressed a haste kiss against her forehead and cheeks, then against her lips. “You’re amazing.” He breathed with a smile.

“You are too.” She whispered happily, her hand on his cheek. They fell into a comfortable silence as they let their bodies relax and their breathing returned to normal. After a few minutes she turned to him with a smirk. “You should have just fucked me in that hotel.” She teased and he chuckled.

“I really should have.”

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