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daily-dose-of-imagines · 3 years

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ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴄʜᴏɴ | ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ ; ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ - ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Ayo ayo!! It’s been a second hasn’t it? I’m so sorry it’s been a second since I’ve last posted and I do apologize about that ;; I’ve been in a massive writer’s block but also a drawing mood lololol I finally had the feeling to write after drawing a jealous / possessive dragon Zhongli, thus spurring on with where I am now. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it!

Art: @ko-ffeine

>> Admin Ko

“What does today’s commission entail for us?”

Soothing and melodic, the former geo archon’s voice swam into her ears as she briefly glanced back at her companion. It was one of those rare moments gifted to her that she was able to complete some commissions for the adventurer’s guild. After all, being a traveling librarian who focused more on knowledge than combat was much more of her strong suit.

“It should be something simple. Nothing too hard from what I could gather.”

A gentle smile was given to the tall male as honey amber hues gazed gently upon her form. Respectable and always the gentlemen, Zhongli stood tall and proud beside the adventuring librarian as the pair leisurely explored the plains of Liyue for the commission spot. When he had first met her, the funeral associate couldn’t help but become enamored by her curious filled eyes. The way she always happened to sought him out for knowledge and genuine respectable curiosity for the information he was able to procure for her.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind, adeptis or not, that the former archon had become extremely fond of the librarian. Some may even compare it to that of a dragon guarding their beloved treasure.

“Then I believe if we are to finish this in a timely manner, we could finish our discussion about the historical sights you happened to last visit.”

Upon seeing her (e/c) shimmer with absolute delight brought a sense of peace into Zhongli’s heart as he couldn’t help but fondly pat her head as she flushed at the endearing action.

Yet the feeling subsided as they neared the commission sight. Immediately her heart plummeted as she felt the color drain from her face at the familiar sight of an unwanted individual. One that she, disappointedly had the honor of meeting whilst adventuring with Xingqui.

Having sensed her distress, the male stepped forth almost protectively before her as sweet amber hues turned molten with unbridled rage as he kept his stony gaze on the figure before the pair.

“There seems to be….a tale of strife here. Do tell me what has happened little one…”

“I…It-’s nothing, c’mon. I think Kathryn won’t be mad if we skip this commission.”

“Did they touch you, Little One?”

“Zhongli….”

“Did those disgusting sewer rats touch you?”

She flinched, the sheer anger that enraptured his words had her gulping as she lightly tugged on his sleeve, her voice soft and desperate to not further escalate the situation as she pleaded with the former archon.

“Please…let’s just go…”

“….Very well.”

Sensing the urgency in her voice, the former god conceded as he turned to face her. The anger in his eyes forcibly subsiding as he hurriedly guided her away before the treasure hoarders could notice. Yet unknown to the librarian, Zhongli had made sure to etch the man’s face into his memory. After all, there was information that had to be gathered.

Upon the return to the colorful and bustling Oceanside city, (y/n) couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief. Besides the one commission, everything else had ended rather well. With Zhongli’s strong shield and her own combat style, the commissions ended fairly quickly.

“Thank you again for your help Mr. Zhongli.”

“Nonsense. I take great pleasure in accompanying you wherever you need it, Little One.”

The pet name brought a sense of fondness to her heart as she hurriedly turned her gaze away from the liquid honey being poured into her very being as she coughed lightly to distract the male from her reddening cheeks.

“I really appreciate it…well, I’ll be off then.”

“Hm, returning to Mondstat?”

“That’s correct. It’s been a nice couple of weeks out here in Liyue and I’ve definitely learned a lot from everyone here, but I do need to return to my duties as Lisa’s assistant.”

“I see, well I wish you safe travels back. I do hope that you’ll return soon though. Or else I’ll have to visit the land of the free myself. I do have some acquaintances there after all.”

A light laugh escaped her as she playfully nudged the other. A roll of her (e/c) hues showing nothing but an annoyed fondness as she lightly shook her head.

“Goodness, if I wasn’t so busy I’d think that you’re trying everything in your power to stay by my side Mr. Zhongli.”

“And if I was?”

She waited. A building heat in her veins as she awaited for the handsome man to reply with a joke. Instead of that, she was met with an all serious expression— save for the sweet affection dripping from his amber hues as he brought a hand up to lightly ruffle her hair. Immediately stammering out a flurry of words and rushed goodbyes, the librarian hurriedly bowed before scampering off towards one of the teleportation stations. All the whilst ignoring the fond look and deep chuckle that reverberated from Zhongli’s chest as he watched her scurry off.

Once out of sight, the former archon’s expression went from fond to unbridled anger. The atmosphere around Liyue hurriedly reflecting that of the former archon as darkness enveloped the usually bright lands as Zhongli made his way towards the adventurer’s guide. There, Katheryne easily supplied the terrifying male with the information he desired. Already knowing fully well what was to become of the treasure hoarders that dared to touch his treasure.

»»————-　　————-««

It had been a week since her return to Mondstat, and if (y/n) was being honest with herself the amount of work thrown upon her had her quickly forgetting the distasteful incident she had faced weeks prior to her return. The disgusting feeling of hands and detestable warm puffs of air against her skin. The mere thought of it alone sent shivers down her spine as she shook off the feeling of disgust as she went about her duties.

“Now…if I’m correct the next thing on the list is to just give reminders to those who borrowed Ms. Lisa’s books…—ow!”

Yet before she could even begin her search for the current occupants of the various tomes of knowledge a familiar figure loomed before her, causing the librarian to bump straight into a firm chest. Before she could even begin her apologies the stench of blood overwhelmed her as she stumbled backwards to meet familiar golden orbs.

“Ah, I do apologize little one, I hadn’t meant to surprise you…”

“…Zhongli?”

Finally getting a good look at the former archon she couldn’t help but gasp as she surged forward. His usually crisp and clean outfit was marred in blood and tears, yet in her fervent search for nonexistent wounds, she failed to notice the look of adoration that graced his features. Hesitantly, he peeled off his gloves before a large warm hand found it’s way into her hair as he gently petted her unruly locks to hopefully soothe her anxiety riddled form.

“Fret not little one, I merely disposed of some trash on my way to visit you.”

“…t…rash?”

Confused (e/c) orbs met his own as his hand dropped from the top of her head to lovingly cup her cheek.

“Yes. The trash that dared to create discomfort for you when you and Xingqui had stumbled across in your journey.”

The statement itself brought a sense of dread into her heart as she gulped, knowing fully well how insanely powerful the male was, god or not.

“D…Did you kill him?”

“No. Though I wish I did, remember our contract little one? I will not break it. Though I do admit, an acquaintance of mine is….educating him as we speak. I merely just gave it a stern talking to.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, (y/n) couldn’t help but slump against the blood muddled archon as she lightly swatted at his chest. The horrors of what could’ve become of the treasure hoarder now long gone— though of course that didn’t keep her from hoping that Zhongli’s ‘acquaintance’ would be merciful.

“….Thank you, but you didn’t have to Zhongli—-”

“I wanted to. No one should ever make you feel uncomfortable, Little one. As long as I am by your side, this will no longer happen. I promise.”

With a small smile, Zhongli shifted his hand down to hold her own as he lightly kissed the back of it.

“Now, will you please show me your favorite places here in the city of freedom?

#genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli imagines #genshin impact scenarios #zhongli scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli reader insert #genshin impact morax #morax x reader #rex lapis #rex lapis x reader

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indianamoonshine · 3 years

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Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”

#din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #mw1 #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din x you #the mandalorian x reader

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huenjin · 3 years

Text

tiptoes and kisses.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader

word count — 2.385

ratings — nc-17

genre — suggestive, fluff

warnings — heavy, heavy make out, mentions of sex, obvious size kink.

note — requested. this is just 2k words of heavy make out with hyunjin and how much you love his height. that's it.

Sometimes, you forget how tall Hwang Hyunjin is.

Even though it's hard to forget that when the man you love towers over you like a huge building, making him seem so statuesque — not that that was a bad thing. In fact, it was never a bad thing, but you're going off the safe for work talks then.

It especially helped when you needed to take the empty boxes up from the storage at the top of the cupboards, or when the utility room in the kitchen shelves ran out, the empty racks at the top were accessible to your boyfriend.

It quickly switches to annoying however, when you stand next to him and he uses your head for an armrest, only to put even a miniscule of his body weight on it as he leans forward to bop your nose with his other hand and mumble, "My cute girlfriend," and you want nothing more than to headbutt him in the face for doing that.

"You stupid tall bean," you would huff and all Hwang Hyunjin would do is drop his arm from your head, only to grip both your shoulders, turn you around to face him and hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he slightly tilts your face upwards.

Your eyes would widen and your body would lean backwards instinctively, but he would snake his other arm around you and lean forward. He would make his voice particularly huskier than normal just because he knows how much it affects you and say, "You like me being tall though. I like this height as well. From here, I can see clearly your beautiful face."

And you are blushing, temperature rising to the apples of your cheeks and you plant your face into his chest in embarassment. He doesn't stop though and continues, "Or when I lift you up and pin you against the—"

"Hwang Hyunjin," you would yelp, clutching tightly on to his clothes, your mind infiltrated by thoughts that have you dizzy.

And then there are days when he lets you feel tall. When he comes back weary and tired after practice and slouches down on the sofa, his long legs jutting massively out of it, he closes his eyes, his head resting against the faux leather of it. You would walk slowly, careful to not make a sound as you stand in between his legs and lean forward to hug him. You would rest your chin on the top of his head, albeit a little pushing down on Hyunjin's frame.

He would let you, only to wrap his arms around your smaller frame and pull you closer into him so that your cheek is against his soft hair and his face is buried in your chest and he sighs — a small act that could turn sexual enough with a change in the atmosphere but then, it would have just been a fleeting moment where he lets you he the bigger person and comfort him.

Or there are days when he's everything — sexually frustrated, annoying and the sweetest boyfriend ever. Like today.

You hear Hyunjin coming home when the door makes a sound, footsteps resonating louder and you are smiling to yourself as you put the noodles into the boiling water. Your tall boyfriend wraps his arms around your back, burying his chin into the crook of your neck as he kisses your cheek.

"You're home," you smile to yourself and Hyunjin nods, kissing further down trail, each kiss lingering a little more than the previous ones. "How was your day?"

"Tiring," he mumbles against your skin, nose brushing against the sensitive region by your neck and a tingle runs down your spine. "I missed you. Way too much."

"Of course you did," you break the chopstick apart and use it to mix the noodles before covering it with the copper lid. "I'm quite a huge presence to miss."

"To me, yes," and he kisses your neck again, arms tightening around your waist. Hyunjin has always been the one to display his affection and that has led to one too many accidents in the kitchen where the two of you forget to either switch off the stove or close any electrical apparatus. So you do your best to not get distracted by your boyfriend and rather decide to focus on the noodles that were cooking. Hwang Hyunjin could wait till then but safety couldn't.

He whines against your skin, his mouth still lingering against it as you move to remove the noodles from the stove, turning it off and quickly covering it with the lid. He pulls apart from you and looks down at the steam arising from the covered noodles off the lid. As soon as you were done with that, you whirled around in Hyunjin's arms, arms wrapping around his torso.

"It's going to turn soggy, you know," you state the obvious and Hyunjin does not care. He wraps his arms around you once again, holding you tightly against him.

"It's fine," he laughs. "We'll order take out if it's that bad."

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow, leaning slightly back to look at your boyfriend's face. He grins with no remorse and you roll your eyes. "Dork," and you chuckle. He chuckles along with you and presses his forehead against yours as he bends down. Hyunjin's hands are slowly creeping under your — his oversized t-shirt — and his thumb traces and rubs tantalising small circles into your hip bones, fingers delicate as they hold you.

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a tease. He'll taunt you with everything till you take the first step. It's a small quirk you have noticed in your boyfriend and you are soothingly grateful for that. Therefore, you do exactly that. You step on your toes, putting your entire weight on that. You let go of his waist and wrap your arms around his neck, crashing your mouth against his. Hyunjin moans in content into the kiss as he wraps his arms even tighter around your waist, pulling you up slightly.

Hyunjin holds onto you with his right arm securely and pulls you into a fiery and passionate kiss that you initiated. Your hands grip tightly onto his neck as you delve deeper into the kiss, while his left arm trails its way around your body, feeling each crevasse, each line along your perfect physique. You have always been perfect to him, even in all your imperfections.

Hyunjin's lips that had slammed against yours, nearly knocking all the wind from your lungs, moves against yours as he kisses you. Your eyes are closed and you tiptoe further if it were possible.

You hardly have a moment to react before he presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, at your grant of access, delves inside your mouth. It is a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of beer that you think he must have had with his teammates, being exchanged in the intermingling of your billowing breaths. Your arms tighten around his thick, strong neck.

And you guess this is where being shorter than your boyfriend is a major con, a huge drawback.

Because, in all honesty, standing on your tiptoes for a long duration of time, even if it is when you are kissing your incredibly good-looking boyfriend that you are ready to jump at any minute from now, can be ridiculously exhausting. Your legs ached, muscles cramping up with slight pulls at it as a gentle reminder for you to stop stretching. And even the incredibly handsome Hwang Hyunjin's kisses could not stop it from feeling that way.

However, you would not let that stand in your way. Never in a million years. You are going to get your make out, and your stupid legs are definitely not going to be the reason as to why you were going to go to bed sexually frustrated.

You anchor yourself more firmly around Hyunjin's neck as he kisses you, sucking on your lower lip, moulding perfectly into your lips. You try to ignore the general exhaustion of your body and continue to persevere on. Although, cross your heart and hope to die, you prayed that he would just carry you and take you to bed only to hammer his big cock into you and take you to heaven and back.

However, as you open your eyes, you notice how calm Hyunjin is as he kisses you, drawing out every kiss with a passion that would take years to reach the bed. You sigh, deciding that holding on his shirt from behind would help you slightly.

Your feet begin cramping under all the standing on tiptoes and it reaches a point where you know you just have to land back on your feet. You let go of Hyunjin and fall back onto the ground and your boyfriend's eyes soften, worried if he did something wrong.

Hyunjin holds your hand, rubbing small circles into your palm and he is about to ask you what's wrong when you glare at him, “Damn it. Would you stop being so tall?”

Hyunjin's eyes widen, not expecting such a comment from you yet it amuses him. He lets out a surprised laugh, watching you with sheer joy and perhaps — no, most definitely — a small amount of adoration.

“It's not exactly something I can help with, babe." He tells you, teeth on display as he smiles widely. Hyunjin has trouble suppressing his laughter at your quick outburst but he finds his heart warming with love for you and bends forward to rub his nose against yours. "Moreover, you love my height."

Unwillingly, you feel the corners of your lip begin to tug into a huge smile. “Stop laughing. I'm being serious." Gesturing between the two of you, you complain, “Some of us have to do a lot of hard work for this, you know. My legs ache,” and you pout, bending down to rub the back of your hamstrings to soothe it out.

Hyunjin smiles at you, yet this time as you watch it, it seems like it held a lot more meaning. His gaze doesn't divert for even a minute as you complain, still smiling and holding your hand, rubbing his thumb into it.

"Hwang Hyunjin! Stop smiling," you whine. "This is a serio—"

Hyunjin lifts you up with such ease that it takes you aback. His arms wrap around your waist and he holsters you up above him, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. Immediately, his hands move to support you by your thighs, fingers slightly grazing the curve of your rear and your eyes widen.

"Hyunjin," your voice is raspier and drier after the small act of his. Your arms are around his neck once again but this time with less strain and force.

"Now, please," he sighs, locking his gaze with you as he holds you up with just one arm, the other brushing the hair that has moved forward, covering your vision. "Let me have my dessert."

He walks towards the walls by the kitchen, slamming your body with lesser impact than you had expected. You draw back into his lips that has crashed down onto yours. You can nearly feel the faint fatty taste of the beer as it rolls off his tongue to yours and seeps down your throat with every push of his tongue against yours.

It is magic, the way his lips connected with yours, tongue rolling against your hot muscle. His mouth is so warm, the caress of his lips softer than anything you could have remembered and you moan against him, arms raising upwards to allow your fingers to tangle them into his hair. You tug at them slightly every time you feel a hot rasp of air against your skin or when his obviously growing boner presses against the side of your thighs.

You stifle a surprised gasp as his soft lips leave yours, trailing down your skin, causing your entire body to flush with heat. This very heat seems to travel through your veins, warming you and subjectively leading you to feel slicker in your nether region as Hyunjin sucks at the skin by your neck, only letting go when he's happy with how bright red it is. Your head drops against his shoulder, moans leaving your lips as you feel his warm breath fan over your skin. Your fingers dig into his scalp and you worry if you'd cream your pantiesies just from Hyunjin laying out strong hickies against the skin by your neck.

He pulls away from your neck, hooded eyes locking with yours. The loud breathing between the two of you is the only thing distinctly audible in the house. In that split second before his touch every nerve in your body and brain is electrified. It is the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words, in a way that's so completely tangible and you cup your boyfriend's face delicately, thumb grazing at the slight stubble by the jaw.

“Better?” He asks lowly, expression dark with desire as his forehead touches yours and you know exactly what he's talking about. However, your legs still wrapped around his, his erection visibly felt against your covered arousal — you exactly don't know if it was any better. Yes, your legs don't ache anymore, but something else aches and now you crave for him even more.

“Hm," you hum, voice parched and barely making a noise of agreement, before pulling him in again, without any intention of letting him go again in the foreseeable future. The noodles could wait. Fuck, even safety could wait for now. Hwang Hyunjin, delirious in want for you, could not wait.

Hours later, precisely your two orgasms and his one orgasm later, you are both lying satiated, tangled together in bed, your head rests gently on his broad muscled chest and his arms around your shoulder allows his hands to brush your hair softly as you both lay in the glory of it all.

And just maybe it is perhaps the beautiful way Hyunjin's one hand wraps completely and perfectly around your neck, you can't deny — it's perhaps hard to forget how tall Hwang Hyunjin is and you are glad.

#hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #hyunjin x reader #writings.rue

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goblinshork · 3 years

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Ok so what abaut Bodyguard and Agony whith a a naga prince that just hates the royal life and dreams of just having a simple life living in a cottage and selling homemade jewelry, so Reader his childhood best friend, personal bodyguard and person who he feel in love whith decides to make his dream come true (bonus if the prince has a sister so the kingdown whont stay whiout a ruler and she helps Reader whith the plan, bonus+ if the prince is kinda huge and scary to other people but he is just a chill dude that likes to make rings and necklaces)

Short scenario please! (Also sorry if its too long, feel free to just ignore this if you whant)

Not too long at all and I think it's an extremely charming idea! Thank you for sharing; big gruff, undercover sweeties are one of the most Choice(tm) archetypes.

This also got super long, but the vibes were singing to me.

Features: Slight angst, happy ending, kissing

Bodyguard + Agony (Monster Ask Meme)

Hands, Touching Hands (m!Naga x gn!Reader) [3.7k]

“Don’t lie, how many names do you remember?”

Alok yawned, curved fangs peaking out from almost-lips.

“None, thankfully,” he said, scratching at his curls, cut short enough that they barely formed.

“Impressive.”

“Oh—no, you won’t distract me. You agree with me don’t you?”

The book Alok had toyed the entire briefing slammed shut, the many bracelets at his wrist clinking for emphasis when you did not answer.

Watching him unfurl his tense length of tail, broad shoulders rising far above you as he 'stood', there was little to say but, "It’s not my place."

"Then it’s not mine, either."

He slunk toward the door and you picked up the book--the monstrous thing--with your arms rather than your hands before following him.

"Just give it time," you said in a reassurance that was too shallow to drown his mood.

Every move forward looked painful as he slithered forward like a child first learning to move against stone rather than soft grass. Unlike when he was a child, he was stilted by frustration rather than inexperience.

The conversation was left dropped, burning like the weight of the tome in your arms. If you were alone, you'd tell him to carry it. But servants, nobles, and royals passed frequently, all low bows and murmurs, moving on a touch quicker than polite.

When you first arrived to the kingdom, a slave dressed sweetly and presented as a gift, you'd marveled at how anyone could find the royal family intimidating when removed from their wealth and status.

Baby yellow skin and soft pink dapples painted everyone of them. Alok, himself, was more pink than yellow, and it reminded you of those delicate, painted dolls you'd press your face against glass to get a closer look at before being shooed away by the shop-keep.

You supposed little had changed since then, except now you were simply stared at, expected to keep your fingers off the pretty pink glass always, always in front of you.

The hallway Alok stopped moving forward in was empty, private; his. Without a word, you tossed the horrible book toward his crossed arms and swept the windows, floors, and ceiling for anything strange. His fumbling for the book, fingers audibly skimming against pages, made you smile.

"It's clear," you nodded. "Workshop, right?"

Alok deflated a bit, too caught between the mention of his workshop and pretending to have perfectly caught the book to keep his anger stoked.

"You're asking now," he said flat, looking from the book to you.

Putting up your hands in mock defeat, you turned, alert enough.

"I'm not angry at you.” The slits that served for his pupils, deep red and small in their focus on the gem he was cutting, turned to you when you said nothing in response.

“Sorry, I--” was dazzled by your eyes? Was enamored by how passionate you are for perfecting that sparkling little gem? “I know.”

“I just wanted to say it.”

You stretched from your place beside the door, perched on one of the few chairs at your disposal in the entire castle, “Thank you.”

“Don’t be patronizing,” Alok grumbled, pausing in his work. “I know...I know very well you must be tired of this, even if you won’t say it.”

The window was suddenly so interesting, your throat burning as you swallowed down the feeling kindling there.

“This is my home,” you said after hearing the scales of his tail shift closer. “There’s nothing to be tired of.”

Slowly, his hand rose to hover over yours, where it lay on your lap, “But you should be. I’d give you anything you needed. They couldn’t stop me.”

Everything you wanted to say was tucked in the patch of air that separated his touch from yours.

Any person, bought and raised to be singularly loyal would hesitate at the offer of freedom, wouldn’t they?

They’d want to grab his hand, wouldn’t they?

You could only guess as a love for a prince was not something to be said aloud unless you were allowed.

And you, a slave turned body guard, were not.

Standing, you scattered the almost-moment with a shake of your head, “I don’t care about freedom half as much as you think I do.”

His hand fell limp to his side, the slits that served as his nose flaring wide, as you continued.

“I’m your bodyguard and I’ll be your children’s bodyguard and I’ll be the same to whoever you choose from that book,” you finished, thoroughly shooing yourself away, wanting so much to run out the door.

Alok said your name quietly, but you remained silent.

And everything was still until it wasn’t.

In one smooth motion propelled by his sheer size, Alok stretched to the book and hurled it out the open window.

“No, you won’t. I’ll be their prince,” he said low, body suddenly too large for the room. “But I won’t be their king.”

You did run, then.

Perhaps the only place off-limits for a would-be king allergic to potential suitors was his sister’s drawing room.

Adur payed you no attention as she demanded entertainment from the brightly colored darlings and dark patterned beauties of the upper echelon.

“Did you know, I simply adore the pattern of your bangles lately,” she cooed, pointing to a decorated tail. “So perfectly in style.”

She continued on, picking this and that to sigh over, as you stood against the corner that provided the best view of the room, next to the door.

You recognized each piece she fawned over as being similar to something Alok had on display or nearly-done in his workshop. Ah, to know a magician’s tricks.

Melting into a squat, you let their voices wash over you. No heart could hurt for long listening to women enjoy court gossip as much as this bunch did...from a distance.

When you, Alok, and Adur were younger, the rules seemed less stone and more like blades of grass, flexible and beneath you. Adur set you in front of her always revolving group of friends and tried to fit tail bangles around your thighs and waist. Alok insisted you sit side-by-side while studying geography, arithmetic, and etiquette. You lay between them on sunny afternoons, napping, legs touching tails.

But everything golden goes grey eventually.

“Well, do tell me. Did he throw it in the fire?”

You turned from the window, swapping red, setting sun for sharp, red eyes, “Out of the window.”

The room was empty but for you and her now. Adur pacing around, tail making quick work of circling the room as she read from her collection of letters.

“Still the amount of melodrama I expected so,” she shrugged, raising shoulders toward her pleased mouth as a silent finish to her sentence. “I, on the other hand, did pick.”

You rose, legs tingling from the sudden change. “Who?”

“Prince Talsa,” she said after cutting open a letter with her claw, “I’ve already decided on a short engagement and a respectable wedding down south. Perhaps closer to his kingdom than ours.”

“Talsa? Not rare one who everyone’s after?”

Adur looked at you as though you should know better before deigning to explain, “Prince Talsa is rather plain looking for a naga, yes, but that’s just the point.”

“Go on,” you said, wanting so much to be distracted.

“Think about it,” Adur scoffed. “Rare, beautiful babies create wonder amongst people, but children who look as though they could be born anywhere....don’t you see the appeal?”

She leaned against the window, long black hair obscuring her pink and yellow face, “They would be royalty that even the most common of folk could feel familiar to--feel endeared to. Even someone as devoid of charm or pretense as Alok could gain some favor. From their birth, I’ll have them attend every little festival and celebration. Their bond with the people will be unshakable.”

“You’ll make the best queen,” you said, unthinking to the implication.

“Has something happened to Alok?”

“No, you ju--”

Adur turned to you, delicate face empty, “It doesn’t matter what we know. He’s the eldest and alive and destroying a book won’t change that.”

Your hands shook as you laced them together, risking at least your life, by asking:

“What if we could change it?”

Everything in the little room lacked splendor, save the jewelry that her brother displayed to no one but himself, built only to separate Alok from his mentor. A failed attempt to elevate a man too gargantuan to grow further.

Even the flooring was rough on the tail, not smooth stone but brick for retaining heat. Only care for function within these four walls.

Adur noted her brother’s tail was bare as she swept over the lacking room, only his leather work belt draped over the apex where tail met torso. Every bit of jewelry he wore crowded his wrists and fingers, noisy as he worked on some large bangle unfamiliar to her.

He looked haggard, frown too ugly and deep to be a mere product of concentration. Grey tickled the roots of his bangs, pronounced enough to shine in the lamplight. Alok was getting too old to be a prince with only time for his hobby.

“Sometimes I think it would be kinder to simply put you out of your misery,” Adur said, closing the door behind her.

Alok’s back tensed, but he did not pause his work, “I’m surprised you said it out loud, but don’t say it like a joke.”

“Don’t be so serious,” Adur sighed, “of course it was a joke.”

“Where is--”

“Your human delight? Running errands for me.”

Alok did turn then, face flickering through emotions too fast to name, “They’re just as much your dear friend as mine, you little viper.”

“Forgive my callousness, but I find you respond to little else,” Adur said, picking at the sheer fabric of her top so it draped correctly against her arm again. “And perhaps they are my friend. But they are not just yours.”

“I won’t be king...even if they weren’t here.”

Adur laughed in a sizzling tone, forked tongue dancing with humor, “Oh? And I suppose your little fantasies of running away involve you doing so alone?”

Only the flames licking back and forth in the small forge answered her.

“You’re too old to be deluding yourself like this,” she went on, dropping a bottle and a sheer robe on Alok’s work desk. “It’s time to make choices once and for all, brother.”

“I’m not--”

“I’m not asking you to rule. You’d be pathetic at it, yes, I know. If not for our dear human friend, you’d have flunked every tutor save for your precious jewelry maker.”

Alok curled back over his tail, fingers picking at the fabric of the robe his sister had dropped. “Then what are you asking?”

Hand on the doorknob, Adur smiled, “if you had your way and left to live like a common man with your human, would you really never come back?”

“Never.”

Adur opened the door. “Good.”

The drider--Woodnet? Woodne? Wodner?--stayed near the the door as you did, but unlike you his sleek, black legs rested on a few thin lines of webbing where wall met ceiling.

Slowly, Alok raised his face to address the bodyguard, entirely unused to being the short one. Worse still was the struggle to match sights with the correct pair of the drider’s many blinking eyes. If you were here, you’d have nudged him to follow your lead already.

If you were here...this wouldn’t be happening in the first place. Just another wishful thought to swallow down as Alok struggled to stay polite in the face of his father’s prime bodyguard.

“Outside the room is fine,” Alok said in a clipped tone, turning as he did to avoid dealing with anymore niceties.

“Forgive me for questioning, Prince Alok,” the drider said, voice drifting down like floating silk. “But bathing is when you are most vulnerable. I can not help but object to the risk.”

The drider polished each word, in no hurry to finish his sentence and Alok’s eyes rolled once--twice--thrice by the time there was silence. If only this were any guard other than his father’s favorite.

“I understand,” Alok said. “But, the windows are trapped and you will be guarding the only entrance.”

The sound of burdened legs skittering down stone, followed by the opening and closing of the lone, stone door was his answer.

Driders were generally no longer friends of Alok’s kingdom. Wodnel....no, Wodni perhaps, was a relic of a time long gone, when his father was just proving himself a leader of a nation. That Wodnir--that was it, Wodnir--was so protective of Alok, having sparsely been involved with him and having been enslaved through ruthless, warmongering means made Alok’s shoulders bunch, the muscles between protruding over scales.

Is that how it was between you and he? Did you feign fondness and care or was it true? Was it true but maligned of him to hope for it due to how you came to be near him? Because of he was?

Alok disrobed and slunk into the hot water, hoping to drown his pithy doubts that crowded so large in his mind.

Flakes of shed rose to the top the longer he soaked, proof of a difficult shed. There was sure to be more bits to come as he scrubbed himself with the, apparently, ‘to die for’ body scrub his sister had left last week.

You were usually the one to soothe his bubbling stress in a life of constant politics and decorum, but the bits of dead skin were proof enough that Alok truly was getting too old for delusions. You’d only been away for a week and a spare number of days and here he was, so tense that not even a hot bath could unfurl him.

Ugh.

Politics and decorum. How would he survive tonight without you? Adur was announcing her engagement tonight, in tandem with the nobles emerging from their collective sheds at the tail end of the Harvest Festival.

Alok scrubbed himself raw, hoping to emerge a new man who could weather life half as well as everyone around him. But the harder he lathed himself in soap, the clearer the truth rang.

If only he could have you.

You had relieved Wodnier of his duties, thanking him with a bow, and standing stiff beside the door for precious minutes, waiting for his delicate range of hearing to wane.

As an apprentice, you had met Wodnier often enough to know he wished you well as much as any spider did a fly.

Hammering against your chest, you feared the vibration of your heart was loud enough for him to hear. And there was always a chance the door shutting at the end of the curved hallway was a trap; that Wodnier still stood in Alok’s quarters and was not making his way back to the King.

But you didn’t have time to be safe, only quick.

Jittered by adrenaline, you sprinted to Alok’s room---toe first, heel last--and back, holding your breath once you made it back to the door of the bath.

Sweat pooled against your forehead, but nothing sprang toward you sans the faint sounds of Alok bathing.

You slipped past the door, the pack in your hands bulky enough that the door opened wider than you’d wanted, the hinge creaking.

“Alok?”

The figure behind the curtain froze before calling back your name.

“We don’t have much time, Alok,” you pressed in a sure voice, but your legs wobbled as you neared the curtain. “I’m....I’m running away and I’m taking you with me.”

“What?”

Coming past the curtain, your chest could barely contain your quick breathing. His hair was devoid of any gray, blacker than pitch as it fell just above his ear holes and forehead. Muddy brown and maroon scales were sleek and wet, droplets rolling down his body, even near his---

You looked back up quickly, away from where his belt always covered. “I mean, I want us to run away and we need to go now.”

Having followed your wandering gaze toward the apex of his stomach and tail, Alok frantically looked toward his arms, the muddy water, “What in the fuck is this?”

“Adur is helping us,” is all you said and it was all Alok seemed to need as he picked up the bottle the dye had been in, nodding. “She said it’ll only last until your next shed but, by then, hopefully....”

“She wants to be queen very much,” he murmured.

You tore open the pack, reminding yourself that time was short, and held them out. “Yes. So, we need to go.”

“You have no idea--,” Alok started, before interrupting himself. “I need something from the workshop.”

“We don’t have time.”

He shook his head as he took what you offered, dressing himself in plain leather and thick, scratchy wool. “It will be quick.”

You opened your mouth--- “Please.” --but couldn’t keep firm in the face of his pleading.

“Okay.”

Alok threw a few rings, bangles, and tools into the bag.

“Only enough to sell and get started again,” he assured.

But as you turned to leave the room, his hand was on your arm, pulling you back.

“We--”

“I love you,” he breathed, holding two thick, ornate bangles in his free hand. Both were decorated, from the side you could see, with marigolds, jewels gleaming in the center of their petals. You recognized each one.

One was the size to fit a large tail while the other...

“Alok.”

“I want us to leave belonging to one another.”

Your shaking hands dropped the large bag and his slid to hold both yours in his large one. “If we leave together, we’ll live together too won’t we?”

Even your head shook now, from side to side, hoping to discern the moment as waking or dreaming. “Alok. Of course, because...Of course we will.”

“Oh, please say it,” he said, tugging you nearer still.

He repeated your name and like a spell, you found your words, “We’ll live together because I love you, too.”

His thin mouth, soft and bloodless, fell to yours from his full height, his body curling over you as he pressed against your lips again.

“Let me put it on you,” he whispered, mouth moving against yours as you clung to him.

“Hurry and then we can....Just the bangles and then we must go before it’s too late.”

Careful of his claws, he lifted you to sit on his work table before slipping his own bangle over the small tip of his tail and up further, until it stuck in place under his belt.

There was no time to remove your pants, to mold the bangle against your bare thigh as was intended, but Alok’s thick hands skimming around the metal the entire way up burned as though he were doing just that.

You slid off the table, when the bangle was snug, to melt against him for one brief moment of loving calm, your face rubbing against his neck.

You didn’t have time for more.

After disentangling from his tight hold, you threw the bag at him, near tears as he scrambled to catch it. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m so glad you’re going to be mine instead of a king.”

And then you ran, hand in hand.

“Hey! Heeeeey,” one of the children yelled as the whole group of five ran toward you, kicking up dust on the dirt-packed road. “My momma said that snake man eats kids who don’t do chores!”

“My papa said he can’t help with the festival because he’s growing more arms!”

“That’s dumb, Brittany. My papa is smarter and he said the same thing as Corey’s momma. He’s a kid eater!”

The group shrieked in delighted horror as they squabbled on the specifics of what was really, truly going on in their village.

You hiked the basket in your arms higher after several attempts to respond, loudly telling them to pay attention or you’d leave.

As though pulled forward by strings, they straightened as still as a child could, a few even holding their hands over their mouths to keep silent.

“All of your parents are right,” you nodded, “Every two months he must curb his huge appetite and force back his new, child-grabbing arms so he doesn’t hurt the very naughty children of this village.”

They all clamored to stress their innocence in a cacophony of babbling that soon grew into questions.

“Is that why you live with him? ‘Cause you protect the village?”

“And him,” you said.

“At the same time?!”

“Of course, it’s my job. Now go back toward the smithy before you find out just how many arms he has.”

Lunging forward in jest was enough to urge the children away, all of them teasing the other that they would be last to get there and a snake man’s lunch.

“You’re horrible,” Alok groaned, scales pale pink and yellow from a successful shed. “Soon, they’ll be grown-ups, running us off.”

Hefting the basket onto the dining table, you laughed, “they adore you in secret.”

The cottages here were baked of mud, hay, and a few supportive beams of wood and yours was no different. There was no splendor in the room-less house, but it was truly yours and his. And that was luxury enough.

“They had enough this time?”

You shook the canteen of dye, moving to stand next to him on the low hammock that served as bed, “And the next shipment of birch will contain enough to last us three months or more.”

Alok smoothed his claw down your face, his own expression wistful, “I feel too content to explain.”

You pressed your nose against the pink of his jaw, letting him raise you to straddle him.

“Then show me.”

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster fucking #monster romance #exophillia #terato #monster boyfriend #naga x reader #naga boyfriend #naga x human #fluffy.foam #new.shork #goblin.writes #conch.answered #alienfromagalaxy #I love adur and it is a shame how much of her had to be cut to make this not a mess #exophilia

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wishuhadstayed · 3 years

Text

It Takes a Village

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: about 3000

Summary: when the Hotchner fam is in need, it’s a good thing to have many helping hands. Part 9 to Begin Again.

Warnings: mentions of blood and pregnancy complications

Author’s Note: I really am sorry for that cliffhanger y’all. 😬 I’m just glad you still love me after being gone for like, a literal year. Shoutout to @agent-laufeyson you’re the best 💜 (PS, please ignore Haley in the below gif, also please picture Hotch in the hospital in casual clothes.) 😌

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

For a moment, Aaron’s whole world stopped turning. A cold, familiar sense of dread settled into his chest at the words, “You all may want to sit down for this.”

“Not again,” he thought. “I can’t do this again, we can’t do this again.”

“God please,” he begged internally, slumping into a chair, “if you’re listening, please don’t take her. We need her.”

Suddenly, the voice of a surgeon cut through the silent room like a knife.

“Sir, your wife lost a significant amount of blood. We had no choice but to perform an emergency c-section. Although your daughter is slightly pre-term, she seems to be in good health. However, we would like to keep her a while for monitoring.”

“And my wife?” He inquires, voice trembling with fear.

“It was touch and go there for a while, but we were able to locate the source of bleeding and get it under control. Your wife is out of surgery. She’s stable, but she is very weak and currently asleep. She will also be hospitalized for recovery. At least a week most likely, maybe longer.”

“Mama’s gonna be okay?” Jack pipes up.

“Yes, she is buddy,” Aaron replies, ruffling his hair. “Thanks to that doctor.”

“Thanks for making my mama feel better.”

“You’re most welcome,” the surgeon replied. “You and your dad can go visit her now. The rest of you will have to wait. She needs her rest. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you doctor,” Aaron says, shaking his hand with a sigh of relief.

“You go Aaron,” Rossi encourages, clapping him on the shoulders before he even had a chance to turn around. “Go see your wife and baby. We’ll wait.”

——————————————————————————

Entering your hospital room, Aaron thought your sleeping face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Sitting on the side of your hospital bed, he grabbed hand as you stirred awake.

“Hello Angel,” he murmurs as you take everything in. “You gave us quite a scare,” he mentions, softly caressing your face.

“The baby,” you whisper, touching his hand.

“Ssssshhhh,” he soothes. “The baby is fine. She’s in the nursery. You just rest okay?”

Instant relief washes over your face. “Jack?”

“I’m right here mama!” he exclaims, scrambling into Aaron’s lap.

“I want to see the baby,” you tell Aaron.

“I know darling, but you really need your rest.”

“I NEED to see her, Aaron.” You plead.

Taking the hint, he begins to rise. “Jack why don’t you stay with mama, while I go talk to the nurse, okay?”

“Okay Daddy,” he agrees, climbing in the bed next to you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better mama,” Jack says, looking up at you with the sweetest face.

“Me too, baby,” you reply. “Are you ready to meet your sister?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims with a look of excitement. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course you can buddy, as long as you’re careful,” Aaron replies as he re-enters the room. “The nurses are bringing her down.”

A few minutes later a nurse arrives holding a tiny pink blanket. “Who wants to hold her first?” She inquires.

“You should hold her first, Aaron,” you suggest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists. “You’ve been the strongest, bravest mom I know already. You should hold her first.”

As the nurse places the tiny, squirming bundle with her father’s dark hair in your arms, all the stress and chaos of the day seems to just melt away.

As you free a tiny hand from the swaddle so she can grasp your finger, her eyes flutter open.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you wonder aloud.

“Absolutely lovely,” Aaron muses, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Just like her mother.”

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile, cooped up in the waiting area, the BAU team began to grow restless.

“Maybe we should get out of the hospital and go shopping while we wait,” Garcia suggests. “I think Y/N deserves all the gifts and pretty things today.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” JJ questions.

“TARGET RUN!” all three women exclaim in unison.

They all wandered the aisles like kids in a candy store.

“I’m getting her balloons,” Penelope says. “Like so many pink balloons. Nobody can feel bad with that many balloons.”

“Flowers,” Rossi chimes in. “We should get her plenty of flowers to make the room cheerful.”

“We’ll have to get those from hospital gift shop,” JJ comments.

“I’d want chocolate,” Emily suggests. “Chocolate helps everything.”

“Look,” Morgan says, showing a pink stuffed bunny to Garcia. “It’s cute right? For the baby?”

“It’s perfect, Derek,” she assures, grabbing his hand. “Very cute.”

“Oh, a memory book,” Reid mentions. “So they can write down details every day.”

“Leave it to the genius to pick out a book,” Morgan jokes with a playful shove.

“Settle down, boys.” JJ cuts in. “As much as I’m sure she’ll appreciate the pretty gifts, she did just have a baby,” she reminds the group. “She needs some practical things too, trust me.” As she picks out a blanket and a pacifier, Henry begins to grow restless. As she picked up a snack for him, another idea crossed her mind.

“We should get something for Jack, too,” she thought aloud. “LEGOs. He loves LEGOs. And some gummy bears.”

A sudden ringing startles everyone.

“Ssssshhhhhhh,” Garcia commands as she puts the phone on speaker. “It’s Y/N! Quiet!”

“Hello my angel dear,” she lilts, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m very tired, but otherwise happy and healthy,” you report. “Is everyone with you?”

“We’re all here,” JJ chimes in.

“Hi everyone!” You reply. “In that case, I have news. The nurses have said that we’re allowed to have visitors first thing in the morning, if you’d like to see our newest addition.”

“Oh, wild horses could not keep us away, ma’am.” Penelope assures. “We’ll see you all bright and early.”

“Not too early, Penny,” you remind her. “You gotta give me a chance to wake up first.”

“Right, sooooo 10am then?”

“It’s a date.”

——————————————————————————

That evening, you soaked up as much family time as possible before the wave of visitors began. Aaron was a natural, as you’d known he would be from seeing him with Jack.

Watching him with the baby was quickly becoming your favorite pastime. The look of sheer enchantment on his face as he held her close and rocked her made you fall a little more in love with him every moment.

“Daddy loves you so much,” he coos to the tiny bundle in his arms.

“What?” he questions as he catches you watching.

“Oh nothing,” you reply, ruffling Jack’s hair as he slept by your side. “Just wondering how I got so lucky.”

“I think it’s me who got lucky. I thought I’d never love again. I was so closed off. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life as a single dad, doing everything on my own. Now,” he chokes out, “now I’d fall apart without you.”

“Good thing you’ve got two of us now to keep you boys in line then,” you return with a wicked grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already.”

——————————————————————————

When you awoke the next morning, you were greeted by the most beautiful sight. Aaron still asleep in the recliner next your bed, his arm cradling the sleeping baby on his chest. While you hated to disturb the peaceful scene, you knew the team would be arriving as soon as the clock struck 10.

“Aaron,” you whisper. “Aaron, wake up,” slightly louder this time. He stirs awake, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleeping child.

“What is it babe?”

“The team will be here soon,” you inform him.

“Ah. I should go get ready,” he replies.

“Mama, can I hold her while dad gets ready?” Jack asks, startling the both of you.

“Oh buddy, I didn’t realize you were awake,” you say to him. “Of course you can hold her if you want.”

Jack scrambled into your lap as Aaron rounded the bed.

“Just be really careful with her bud,” Aaron reminds him as he settles the baby on his lap.

“I will dad,” he replies.

As Aaron walked away, the baby’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a small cry.

“Here, why don’t you give her a pacifier?” you suggest.

“Sssshhhh, don’t cry,” he says, giving her the pacifier, and then softly stroking her head.

“What do you think about your baby sister, Jack?”

“She’s pretty, Mama, just like you.”

“Thank you baby,” you reply. “That’s very sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama.”

“And I love you all,” Aaron adds.

——————————————————————————

A short while later, a knock at the door alerts you that your visitors have arrived.

“You ready for this?” Aaron asks as he walks to the door.

“I’ve never been more ready. I just know they’re gonna be so in love with her.”

Aaron opens the door and the team flows in with their myriad of gifts.

Penelope hands off her bouquet of balloons to Derek and rushes over to hug you.

“Oh Y/N,” she gushes, cupping your face. “You look beautiful. It’s so good to see you, we were all worried sick.”

“Thank you Penny,” you reply, eyeing the room. “I’m assuming the shopping spree was your idea.”

“Oh shush woman,” she scolds. “You deserve it. We wanted your room to cozy and pretty because we heard you’re going to be here for a while. Sue us.”

“Thank you all for the gifts, you really didn’t have to do any of that,” you reply, tearing up as you address the whole room. “Just being there for us when we needed you the most was all we could ask for and you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“This is the least we could do, really,” JJ assures, softly rubbing your hand.

“Oh fine, be modest if you insist,” you reply with an eye roll. “I’d open all the gifts now, but I imagine you’re all much more interested in our slightly earlier than anticipated arrival.”

Seemingly for the first time since they came in, everyone notices Aaron’s presence and the little pink bundle in his arms.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you continue, “the announcement you’ve all been waiting for. Introducing Miss Savannah Rose.”

“What a lovely name,” Emily chimes in.

“Thank you,” Aaron cuts in. “We would have told you all sooner but we actually just decided on it while we were here,” he says beaming down at his perfectly content infant daughter. “You can all hold her if you like.”

“I’m sure we’d all love to,” JJ replies, “but i think we should leave that you for now. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to spoil her rotten just as soon as she gets home.”

“Right! We just wanted to check on everyone and make sure you have everything you need,” Garcia adds.

“Well thanks to you guys, I think our hospital room is pretty well stocked. I just wish I could say the same for the nursery,” you say with a shrug.

“What’s wrong with the nursery?” Rossi inquires.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Aaron admits. “Between me traveling so much for work and Y/N being pregnant and taking care of Jack, it got pushed to the wayside. I thought we had a bit more time.”

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you it’s not your fault?” you soothe, reaching for his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“I know, I just wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“It already is dear,” you assure him with a smile. “Why don’t you go get some coffee, you look exhausted.”

“Good idea babe,” he says, settling the baby into your arms.

“I could use a cup myself,” Morgan adds.

——————————————————————————

“Derek, I need your help,” Aaron pleads, once out of earshot of the room.

“Of course man, anything you need.”

“We’re going to be in the hospital for about a week while Y/N recovers and I’m desperate to have a nice nursery for her when we get home, but I obviously can’t leave her alone. I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there anything you could do to help?”

“Sure thing man, don’t worry about it. That’s the best gift I could hope to give you.”

“You’re the best,” Aaron replies, slapping him on the shoulder. “Just don’t let Y/N find out, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed,” Derek promises.

——————————————————————————

That afternoon Derek had the whole team assembled in the nursery to get started.

“Alright everyone,” he begins, “We’ve got one week to make this the best surprise gift possible. Let’s make it happen.”

“What color should we paint it?” Penelope inquires.

“Got that covered already,” Derek replies while opening a paint can. “Purple. Hotch said it’s Y/N’s favorite color.”

“Oh Derek, it’s perfect!” she squealed, squeezing him tight. “She’s gonna adore it.”

“While the two of us are painting,” Penny addresses the group, “why don’t the rest of you do some some shopping?”

“Great idea, baby girl.” Morgan chimes in. “I think they’ve got the basics from the baby shower and I saw a crib and changing table in the garage, but I’m sure you guys can find things they’re missing.”

“Oh I think we’ve got this,” JJ states confidently. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she commands, herding Emily, Rossi, and Reid out the door.

When the group arrived back at the Hotchner house several hours later, the nursery walls were covered in a soft shade of lavender; as were Morgan and Garcia.

“I don’t know how you two managed to get any paint on the walls,” JJ said with a grin.

“Smile for the camera, you two,” Emily cuts in, snapping a picture on her phone as the couple hug and smile in their paint splattered clothes.

——————————————————————————

The next day conversation flowed as team was busily assembling furniture. Rossi, Reid, and Morgan worked on the crib while Penny, Emily, and JJ tackled the changing table.

“Let me know if you ladies need any help,” Morgan mentions casually.

“Oh right,” Emily grumbles, “because OBVIOUSLY the women need a big, strong man’s help, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Derek counters. “I was just offering.”

“Oh not only will we get ours done without your help, we’ll get it done faster,” Emily challenges.

“Oh yeah?”

“YEAH!” all three women reply in unison.

“You’re on,” Morgan accepts.

“Oh you’re so going down,” Penny taunts, throwing pieces of plastic wrapping at Derek.

“Losers buy sushi for lunch?” Rossi suggests.

“Oh that could be pretty expensive for you Dave,” JJ comments. “You sure you’re up for that?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Rossi says, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, as JJ and Emily were finishing up the crib, the men came dragging in, arms full of takeout bags.

“Say cheese!” Penelope squeals as she takes their picture. “For the bragging rights.”

——————————————————————————

The next days were spent putting the finishing touches on the room.

A purple gradient butterfly mobile above the crib from JJ.

A bookshelf with a fully stocked library, specially selected by Reid. Emily places her floral covered photo album on top.

Lavender curtains with a shimmery overlay, Penelope’s contribution.

Derek’s stuffed bunny, carefully laid in a white gliding chair with purple cushions, which was generously paid for by Dave.

Derek lays a soft shag rug over the hardwood floor and drapes a plush floral blanket over the edge of the crib.

“I think that about does it, guys,” he says with a look of pride.

“You know, I bought them that photo album,” Emily comments, “it would be a shame if we didn’t put a few in there as a gift.”

“Yeah, but how do we get a picture of the whole group?” JJ wonders out loud.

“We could set a timer,” Penelope suggests.

“Yeah, but who sets the timer?” Reid asks, as he turns to see the whole group looking at him.

“Seriously guys?”

Between the camera falling over, closed eyes, and Spence not making it back before the timer, it took a few tries before there was a good group shot.

“And now a funny one,” Penny insists.

Once the photos, including the bloopers, have been printed and arranged in the album, JJ makes sure to write descriptions for each in the margins before setting it back on the shelf.

“Good job team,” Derek announces. “Our work here is done.”

——————————————————————————

After all the chaos surrounding the birth and a full week in the hospital, nothing felt better than standing at the door of your house with the love of your life and your two beautiful children.

“You ready to finally get some rest, baby?” Aaron asks as he ushers you inside the house, one solid arm arm around the small of your back and Savannah in her carrier on the other.

“Yeah,” you sigh, dropping your purse on the coffee table and slipping off your shoes. “I just wish we didn’t still have to worry about the nursery,” you groan, plopping down onto the sofa.

“About that,” Aaron says with a mischievous grin, offering you his free hand.

“What are you up to, Aaron Hotchner?” You muse as he leads you down the hallway.

“Just trust me,” he assures, coming to a halt in front of the nursery door. “Close your eyes,” he requests.

“What is going on here?” you inquire again.

“Just close your eyes please, darling,” he asks. “For me.”

“Alright, alright,” you comply, “this better be good.”

“Don’t open them until I say so, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

With eyes closed and Jack close by your side, you hear the door open and the rustling of paper inside the room.

“Alright,” he whispers, sliding his arm around your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist: @ange-must-die @agent-laufeyson @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito @hotchnerundercover @pedropascalian @thenewnormalforensicator @crowdedimagines @sagittarianwolf @kleff03

#aaron hotchner imagine #1 800 aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #thomas gibson imagine #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner #hotch

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

It’s Alright, I’ve Got You.

Requested?: Yep! @gingeraleluke sent it in and of course I had to write it. One of Dwight’s weapons falls from under a table and Y/N steps on it, prompting Jim to go full blown protective bf even though no-one knows they’re dating!

Word Count: 4.0K+

Author’s Note: I solemnly swear to write as much Jim Halpert fanfiction as y’all want. He is a bean and I love writing Office-universe stuff. After that smut that I released, we do need some fluff though.

Warning: gore, and descriptions of injury. Otherwise, floof.

You couldn’t remember the last time a storm raged with such force over Scranton, but it did little to keep you in your flat that Tuesday morning. Perhaps, in hindsight, it was a bad omen, a warning of things to come, but you we determined that morning, too stubborn to call in sick or wait for the pouring rains to soften their attack.

That morning, you washed and dried your hair like it wasn’t about to frizz in the humidity, you put on waterproof mascara and set your face with hope the makeup wouldn’t run; you ate your breakfast and drank your first cup of coffee of the morning like the roads outside weren’t a few raindrops from flooding; and you left your apartment, an umbrella over your head as you trotted to your car and tried to ignore the water splashing onto your tights. With a few flips of the key, clearing the exhaust of water, you started your car and breathed a sigh of relief once you were on your way to work. The rain had done little permanent damage, and you were hopeful you would find a parking spot close to the door.

Today was important for you, a meeting with clients at the office to discuss a major shipment you and Jim had been organising for months now, the last thing you wanted to do was be late for it. The job itself was uninteresting to say the least, but you knew you wouldn’t let yourself let Jim down. He was your best friend, your sales partner, and as of recently, the realised love of your life.

Of course, you hadn’t told your co-workers, apart from Pam; but she was a trusted confidante. Apart from her, your relationship was very much private, how both of you liked it for the moment. There was no too-personal questions about sex from Michael, no creepy postulations from Dwight, no dirty glances from Angela for being ‘ruined’: in short, you had peace to work through your relationship at your pace, and it was going great as a result. You’d tell them all soon, obviously, but when was still undetermined.

You slowed at a stop light, your windscreen wipers struggling to keep your window clear for the sheer amount of rain, and you signalled left, deciding to turn on your fog lights on top of your low beams. The roads were too treacherous to avoid safety, and you felt safer as you turned onto the main road, joining a stream of traffic heading into the centre of Scranton, though it was thinner than usual.

The trip to work took longer than usual, but you still arrived early, and gave yourself a moment to prepare yourself for the dash to the door. You tucked your keys into your purse, planning to lock your car from the reception, and you checked your makeup in your rear mirror once more, making sure that your lips were still unsmudged, that the mascara was holding up the title of waterproof. With a final check you had collected your belongings, you kicked your car door out and opened your umbrella against the ice-cold pellets of aqua. You were swift, careful in your heels to avoid drains and broken cement blocks on the path that could splash more water on you.

“Mind if I share?” A voice called through the din of water hitting the ground, and you found a rather wet Jim by your side, his frozen hands coming to your waist and urging you forward as you both fended off the rain with your umbrella. Once you had gotten under the entryway, you shook out your saving grace and closed it, turning to find Jim holding open the front door for you.

“Halpert, you look like a drenched dog.” You stated in place of thanking him for the courtesy, walking into the Scranton Business Park building that housed Dunder Mifflin. Jim followed, deciding to play the part you had assigned and shake the water from his hair, spraying your dress skirt with rainwater. You squealed at the action, letting down your professional demeanour to giggle at the goof you called a boyfriend. After a quick glance behind you to see if anyone was around, you pulled Jim over to you by a sopping wet tie and pressed your lips to his. Sweet, chaste, a secret gesture.

“I always knew you were a dog person.” He responded, capturing your lips once more with a cheeky smile. “Good morning, Y/L/N…” He grinned, sauntering toward the elevator like he hadn’t left your breathless at 8.32 in the morning. You followed after him, the doors opening and both of you stepping into the lift. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the steel, fixing your lipstick quickly as you shot up to your floor. You felt a presence behind you, Jim’s hands resting on your waist for a second time, and you could make out his hazy reflection in the metal.

“Are you still up for a movie tonight?” You asked, unable to stop the blush that rose on your cheeks as Jim’s lips pressed onto the top of your hair, which had managed to survive the weather rather miraculously.

“Like I could ever say no to you.” Jim responded, lifting one of your hands and holding it in his own. Despite the size difference, they fit together perfectly. “I love you.” He whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek just before the doors opened to your floor, and just as soon as he was there he was gone, off into the office. You tried to quell the smile that had caused dimples in your cheeks as you walked in, but failed rather miserably.

“Why are you so happy?” Were the first words you were greeted with as you came through the door to the office, from a rather moody Dwight of all people. You took off your coat, Pam not yet at her desk for a greeting, and walked over to your desk across from the spectacled asshole, seating yourself and exaggerating the smile into a maniacal grin.

“You know Dwight, people are allowed to be happy in spite of the weather. You’d know if you had ever experienced real emotion. Tell me, do robots need to go in for MOTs?” You were quick and sharp with your tongue when you wanted to be, and earned a chuckle from Jim, who had begun printing off the last of the files needed for the day’s meeting.

“If I were a robot, Y/N, I’d be part of a superior race. Your flesh vessel would be no match for my metal structure.” Dwight countered, and Jim looked over from the copy machine.

“You hear that? Sounds like something a robot would say.” Jim shrugged, sending a wink your way.

The rest of your co-workers trudged their way into the office, each one wetter than the last. It seemed like the rain you had battled against was just the start of whatever bizarrely named storm had landed atop your city that day. With Pam’s appearance, the poor thing shaking from the cold, you disappeared into the kitchen to pour her a warm cup of coffee, sorting one for Jim as well.

“You, Y/N, are the angel I’ve always needed.” Pam smiled through chattering teeth as you handed over her favourite mug, walking back to set down Jim’s coffee without a second glance.

“It’s mutual, Pam. What happened? You look like you’ve been plucked out the Atlantic.” You asked, walking round her desk to help her take off her jacket and cardigan, both items soaked so thoroughly you were sure you could fill a bath with the water retained in the items.

“My car wouldn’t start, so I had to get the bus… The thing stopped two blocks away, this is the result of sprinting through the rain.” Pam pouted as she spoke, and you smiled sadly at her. She took another sip of her coffee, plopping onto her chair, seeming to be contemplating something over the beverage. “Does Kelly still keep a hairdryer here?” She asked.

“You know, I was about to suggest the exact same thing. I have the morning basically free until my meeting at 11.45. Why don’t I fetch the space heater to keep you warm, and we can dry off your clothes in the bathroom?” You offered, throwing her wet cardigan over your arm, and leaning down to press a kiss to your friend’s cheek.

“God, Pam you look awful.” A voice interrupted your kind gesture, Michael stood by the coat rack, taking off a jacket that looked like it belonged in the artic tundra. “Wet to the core- oh! That’s what she said!” He called out in excitement, laughing at his own innuendo.

“Michael, there’s a call waiting on line two.” You lied, and he raised an eyebrow.

“But-”

“Go be busy and leave Pam be.” You ordered, and Michael nodded, moping as he headed into his office. While you were a nice enough person, you kept up a rather stern persona in the office, and Michael perhaps was or was not a little scared of you. You departed from Pam’s desk, walking to your own and calling Michael’s phone from your own.

“Hello?” Michael answered, and you smiled at him through the window.

“Morning Michael. Have you got the 11.45 scheduled in?” You reminded with a sweet voice, watching Michael frantically look for his calendar.

“Uh… Uh, yeah! I do! Wait a minute, I didn’t schedule this in…” He muttered, dropping the phone and walking to the door of his office. “Thanks Pam.” He called, startling the young woman, but leaving a smile on her face, nonetheless. You put down the phone, quickly checking your emails and making sure you were set for later that morning.

“Jim, you alright to take care of the rest of the printing?” You asked, glancing over and trying your best to keep your heart from melting. Jim was sat at his desk, brow furrowed as he proof-read something on his screen, sipping his coffee rather absentmindedly. “Jim.” You repeated, and his head shot up, the crease disappearing as a smile formed.

“On it.” He responded, giving you leave to find Kelly’s hairdryer and ring out Pam’s cardigan.

“Why does Y/N get to slack off?” Dwight muttered once you had disappeared through the kitchen door. Jim watched you leave for a moment before coming back to, looking over at an unhappy Dwight.

“She’s not slacking off, Dwight, she’s doing a co-worker a favour. You should try it once and a while.” Jim countered, putting Dwight on the defensive.

“I’ll have you know that if it weren’t for me, none of you in this office would be safe.” He was sure in his words, but a phone call came through before Jim could question what his colleague could possibly mean.

11 am rolled around fast, and with Pam’s cardigan ringed out and blow-dried, along with a few other team members’ outer wears (Jim’s tie included), you were finally starting to feel nervous. As much as you enjoyed helping your colleagues out, having even taken off your shoes to get around the office quicker, you realised as you distributed the dry clothes to individuals that you were just trying to preoccupy yourself. This meeting was important, and while you had no doubts in Jim or yourself, you had a feeling you were missing something.

“Water!” You squeaked as you handed over a scarf to Oscar, who raised an amused eyebrow at you.

“Don’t you think we’ve got enough outside?” He asked, and you laughed a little.

“Sorry, for the meeting today. I should clean up some matching water glasses for the clients.” You explained, lifting a sweater from your arm and passing it to Angela. She seemed in a good mood today, perhaps because in between your drying of clothes you had offered her a cat shaped cookie to go with her coffee. Andy had probably brought them in to amuse her.

“That’s a very clever idea, Y/N. We won’t keep you from getting started on that.” She said, and you nodded, knowing that Angela had politely dismissed you to focus on her work. You marched through to the kitchen, lifting the nicest glass tumblers you could find and beginning to wash a set of six, humming as you did.

“I know what you’re doing.” A familiar voice came from behind you, Jim placing a hand on the small of your back for a second to reach around you. “Why are you so nervous? We’re the dream team, cutie. The clients will love us.”

“I know, I know…” You sighed, lifting two of the glasses from the suds and placing them on the drying rack. “I’m just… It’s a big deal, I feel like if one thing goes wrong…” Jim cut you off with a shake of the head, picking up a tea towel to dry off the cups.

“Y/N, you wrote and printed six-chapter binder about the entire order. From processing to delivery, with notes on every possible question they could ask. You then made Dwight and I memorise the binder, like we don’t have other clients.” Jim teased you, placing the dried glasses onto a serving platter. You glanced at the clock, 11.20 am. 25 minutes to go.

“You’re right… Like always.” You gave in, happily defeated, and set down the final tumblers and the water jug on the drying rack, Jim swift on his self-assigned role in your cleaning chain.

“Here, I have an idea.” He began, filling up the jug with cold water. “Why don’t you head to the break room, get yourself something as sweet as you, make sure you don’t go into the meeting low on sugar.” Jim suggested, pulling a slightly damp $5 bill from his pocket. You reached to grab it, Jim then deciding to be an ass and lift it higher than you could reach.

“You keep this up the whole office will know we screw, Halpert.” You warned, batting your eyes as a pretty please. Jim just laughed lightly, handing the money over and grinning from ear to ear. You smirked back. “I love you, you know.” You said quickly, walking from the kitchen to the annexe, waving a quick hello to Kelly, who was enjoying her warm and dry faux fur wrap, while Jim just smiled to himself and went about carrying the water jug and galsses through to the conference room.

You slipped into the empty break room and took a deep breath. Jim was right, there was nothing to fear about this meeting: the clients were great people, understanding, and the shipment was all ready to go in the warehouse. You rolled the cricks out of your neck, stretching your arms up to the fluorescent lights to relieve whatever tension remained. You headed for the vending machine, skirting round a pulled-out chair and stopping to face the machine stocked full of goodies. By the looks of it, the machine must have been refilled in the last few days, and your fingers hovered over the array of treats, stopping on your favourite, one that you hadn’t seen in the vendor in months.

Slotting in the bill, you typed in your choice, and when the change came through, you picked out Jim’s favourite candy too, a little thank you for his calming techniques. You scooped the snacks out the bottom, swivelling around a little to quick and bumping into the chair you had been so careful to avoid coming over.

With the bump, you knocked into one of the tables and ended up stumbling. Your auxiliary foot did it’s best to steady you, but you were falling over. So, you placed down your dominant foot despite the odd angle with as much force as you could, frightened to hit the ground and possibly rip your tight right before a big meeting.

There’s a moment when one realises a mistake before it occurs, but cannot change it. It happened as your strong foot was about a cm from the ground, a pinch. Your mind immediately registered that you were probably stepping onto a tac or upturned loose staple, and you were ready to mumble curses under your breathe and feel a quick nip.

What came instead was blinding pain that forced you to the floor, banging your head on the damned chair that caused all this on the way down. The snacks you have so carefully thought out flew across the room, and you instinctively reached for your foot, only to pull your hand back when you cut yourself. The amount of blood covering your hand was dizzying, and as you finally felt the pain take full control of your head, you did the only thing you could think of.

You screamed.

No-one in the office was expecting to hear a scream at 11.30 in the office, especially not one so haunting. For a second, everyone was still, Michael silencing his rant about Staples, hands across the room moving from keyboards in a moment of terror.

And then the second scream came, and Jim flew into action.

He had been at his desk, making sure he had printed off everything the pair of you needed, and trying to block out Michael’s nonstop talk when he heard it. And, to be fair, he never had heard you scream in terror before, it took him a second to register the sound. And it froze him too, this haunting call, it froze the office. But when the second one rang out, he was certain it was you, and propelled himself towards the breakroom, where Kelly now stood, Pam and the rest o the team hot on your tail.

Jim had never seen so much blood, You were barely awake on the floor, the carpet below you now a crimson colour, one of your hands clutched to your chest. All Jim could see for a moment was the red, but he knocked it quickly from his mind. You were hurting, he needed to get you help.

“Y/N, it’s alright, I’ve got you… Come on Y/L/N, look at me…” He begged, dress pants now stained with blood as he knelt down and lifted you from the ground. A few team members had to step away from the sight, Michael included, leaving Jim with a very select team.

“Stanley I need you opening doors. Meredith, can you find any sort of towels, we need to stop the bleeding… Jesus Christ what is in you foot Y/L/N?” The question was more to himself than to the team, who watched in curiosity at how Jim interacted with you: he cradled you close, he barked orders, the worry on his face was clear.

He was scared for your wellbeing.

“You know, if she hadn’t been slacking off none of this would have happened.” Dwight piped up out of the blue, causing heads to turn as Meredith passed towels to Pam, who carefully began wrapping Y/N’s foot to stop the bleeding, Meredith then moving to wrap Y/N’s hand.

“Dwight, what did you do?” Jim asked, pausing for a moment to look at his desk mate. When he received no response, Jim lost it. “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO DWIGHT?!” He shouted, all eyes on the pair. Dwight tried to look strong, righteous, but the façade was quickly faltering.

“I-I keep weapons in the office… For protection.”

“Protection?!” Pam snapped. “There’s a throwing star in Y/L/N’s foot, Dwight!”

“I’m good with small, long distance objects.” Dwight shrugged, and Jim looked like he would murder Dwight on the spot if it weren’t for you in his arms. His Y/N.

“Let’s get her to the hospital before she loses any more blood. Pam, you’re driving. Andy, Dwight, take over the pitch meeting. Fuck it up and there’s hell to pay. And Dwight?” Jim called back as he, Stanley and Pam made there way towards the exit. “If anything, and I mean anything, happens to Y/N because of your goddamn bullshit, you will not live to see tomorrow.” Jim warned, and Dwight visibly gulped, watching the quartet left with a lump in his throat.

When you woke up, you were scared. You felt weak, your whole body ached, and your head pounded like no-one’s business. There was also a lot of pressure around your hand and foot, the material you wore felt funny, and you were in a bed that was most certainly not your own.

And then it came back. The pain, the blacking out. You were in a hospital.

You tried to sit up straight, your heart monitor to your right beginning to beep faster and faster, you frantic in your search for any sort of explanation.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright baby, it’s all good.” A voice came from your left, a blurry figure you quickly recognised as Jim running to your side from the corner of the room. You blinked away the tears to see clearly, and he smiled, instantly calming you. “You’ve been through quite a bit Y/L/N, you need to stay comfy in bed.” He instructed, taking a second to disappear before pulling over a chair to sit by your side.

“What-what time is it?” You asked, lifting a hand to hold Jim’s. Your eyes widened. “The client deal-”

“Andy and Michael have sorted it all out. That binder you made really saved their asses.” Jim assured before glancing at the wall clock. “Almost 7… You were out for a while, they had to put you under anaesthesia and everything.” Jim explained, and you took in his appearance completely. He was out of his work clothes, changed into a t-shirt and jeans no doubt brought in by Pam, and despite his dishevelled hair and brow creased from worry, he look his usually self. Except for the bandage around his arm.

“What happened?” You asked, reaching over to touch it.

“You lost a far bit of blood, and even though I should really know it I had no clue what blood type you were. But I’m O Negative, and the hospital needed an emergency transfusion…” Jim shrugged like it was nothing, but you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I can’t believe how clumsy I was.” You whispered, shaking your head in shame. You had stepped on something and fallen down, and Jim had to donate blood to you? He was quick to shush you though, leaning over and placing kisses on your forehead.

“Baby, this wasn’t your fault… It was Dwight’s actually.” Jim paused to steady his breathing. “The asshat hid weapons around the office, one of them being the ninja star that got lodged in your foot and required surgery to remove.” You blinked a few times, trying to process the words, make sense of what you had just been told. Dwight… Weapons… Ninja Stars…

When Jim saw the smile on your face, he was caught off guard, but as you started to giggle he soon clicked and joined in the laughter. It was ridiculous, such a bizarre idea that it would only happen at your office building with Dwight.

After a few moments of shared laughter, the tension in the room eased, a knock sounded on the door, a doctor entering the room with a smile.

“Miss Y/L/N, glad to see you up and smiling. I was hoping we could run over your next few weeks, the precautions you’ll have to take until you hand and foot heal.” They asked, and you nodded, Jim pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding your good hand between his, his thumbing stroking your knuckles and the rain continued to storm outside.

The rest period wasn’t long, and after two weeks your hand had healed to a sufficient degree that you could use crutches and get back to work. You first day back on the job compromised of a surprise party, cake, Dwight apologising multiple times and very little work.

What was best about it all though? Jim, right by your side, the whole office now quite aware of where you stood with each other: which was, no matter what, side by side.

Bonus, you got to keep the throwing star, and it has since been framed in the office, rightly labelled as ‘How the office found out Jim and Y/N were dating’.

#jim halpert x reader #fluff #jim halpert #the office #fanfiction #john krasinski

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zevlors-tail · 3 years

Text

S/O Has A Self Harm Relapse - Deku

Original ask here.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! My dms are always open, and I’m always here to talk to if anyone needs it! I also hope this is relatable, because I know SH can be very personal and everyone has their own reasons. Remember that your progress is valid even when slip ups happen, and that you are loved, always, no matter what.

TW: Self harm relapse, general negative thoughts and emotions, implied cutting, I didn’t go into detail but it’s still descriptive so PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS.

Izuku Midoriya/Deku:

“I just don’t know what to do, you know? Things are really tough right now, and I feel like you’re the only one taking the time to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t know who else to turn to...” The hurt in your friend’s voice was evident, causing your eyes to crinkle in worry as you gave them a small concerned smile.

“Everything’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like that right now, but it will be eventually. You just have to trust me.” Your voice held such a confident tone to it, a promise of better times to come in the near future. You sounded like you were sure of it, as if you knew without a shadow of a doubt that things would be okay- and maybe you did. You truly believed it, genuinely felt that your friend would be okay and that things would work out after all.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” you responded with conviction.

Just this morning, one of your best friends had texted to ask if you could meet up with them later on in the day to talk about something important. Of course, you being the helpful and loyal friend you were, you immediately agreed and set up a time to see them. It had turned out that they were going through some sort of crisis, something that on the surface didn’t seem to be troubling them, but as they went on about their issue, you saw the way it weighed on their shoulders, saw the way it made them doubt themselves.

You knew how it felt to feel like the world was caving in, like there was no hope left for you. Maybe that was the reason you were always so quick to help others; you couldn’t stand the thought of the people you cared for feeling the same way. No matter what they needed and no matter when they needed it, you were there. One of your friends got into a fight with their parents? You were there. One of them was having troubles with their partner? You were there. If someone else just needed to vent about their shitty day, you were there; you always were. You could never turn them away even if you felt overwhelmed at your own expense. And it was frustrating, too, because no matter how many times you came to their rescue, no one seemed to want to be there for you. Well...almost no one.

There was one person, the light of your life, Izuku Midoriya. He checked in with you often, would remind you to take breaks for yourself (even if you often ignored his requests to do so, much to his dismay), and kept you going when you felt you couldn’t go on any longer. And you were going through so much; between school, work, and home life, you felt completely overwhelmed. Lately, it seemed like your grip on things just seemed to be...slipping. It was getting harder to focus between the sheer amount of anxiety you felt over everything, harder to breathe easy and relax. You supposed it didn’t help that Izuku had been away for a few days for some intense type of training, either.

Maybe that was the cherry on top, or maybe it was just inevitable, but somehow you found yourself feeling lower than dirt as you sent your friend off with a tight hug, their form fading in the distance as you watched them leave with a deep frown. You understood they had things going on, and of course you didn’t expect them to notice you felt a little off, but you wished that maybe they had just asked if you were alright, too. Even a passing, “I hope you’re doing okay,” would have been nice; something, at least, to let you know the feelings were reciprocated on their end as well. Something to let you know they cared. But they weren’t, and they didn’t, and you sighed heavily as you let your facade shatter around you.

You felt selfish for wishing your friend would care when they were clearly preoccupied with other things. But in the same sense, you couldn’t remember the last time someone asked if you were okay. Things were getting bad again, all of your friends and family needed you and were demanding your attention constantly, and now your boyfriend was away for a few days as well. Between the stacking missed calls and texts you needed to respond to and the sheer amount other’s problems added to yours, it felt like too much. Even the noise of the car radio on the drive home was irritating and overwhelming, and no matter what station you picked, the music and occasional static noise bothered you until you finally had to turn it off completely. But driving in silence proved to be a problem as well, and now you were stuck with the intrusive thoughts in your mind and your heartbeat rushing in your ears.

The silence of your empty home was deafening. Izuku, who would usually be lounging on the couch with his favorite All Might blanket watching a movie by now if he was home, was nowhere to be found. The lights on the dishwasher blinked at you from the darkness of the kitchen signaling an empty rack. There were no dishes to clean, no clothes to wash or dry, and the TV screen remained darkened and still; there was nothing to distract your mind from the chaos inside of it. And although you were surrounded by quiet, it was by no means peaceful. You felt on edge, overwhelmed, and alone. It was all too much too fast, and you knew of only one solution to quiet the thoughts in your head, even if it was only a temporary fix.

Right now, in this moment, you just needed everything to stop. You needed a distraction, a different source of pain to redirect your focus. Still, you hated yourself with every step you took until you came to stand in front of the bathroom sink, the familiar cabinet doors leering at you more maliciously than usual.

You knew what lied behind those doors in the far left corner on the bottom shelf.

***

It was two more days before Izuku returned home, the telltale sign of jingling keys ringing through the air as he opened the front door and slipped inside. He tossed his keys to the table and kicked off his shoes. You heard him lock the door behind himself, footsteps heavy on the carpeted floor as he dropped his bags in the living room and took a moment to relax and settle in. In a way, you were grateful he didn't immediately come to see you; you were curled up in bed, anxious and ashamed about what you had been doing while he was gone. He wouldn’t look at you the same way again after this, you were sure of it.

You listened as Izuku trekked to the bathroom across the hall, and if you payed enough attention with your half lidded eyes, you could make out his darkened blurry form passing by the open bedroom door. He shut the bathroom door behind him before he turned on the lights (he was always courteous of you and your need to sleep in the dark), his electric toothbrush vibrating to life. You stayed put in bed and listened to the sound of it while pretending to be asleep. But as soon as it hard started it was just as abruptly stopping, and for reasons you couldn’t place, anxiety bubbled up in your chest as you listened to Izuku go eerily silent for at least a good minute. The light from under the bathroom door shifted as he finally moved, his clothing creating a soft rustling noise while he put his toothbrush back on the counter with a quiet clack.

Sensing that the bathroom door was about to open once more, you turned away from the entryway and faced the wall. You didn’t want him to know you were awake; all you wanted was for him to crawl into bed with you and wrap his arms around you like nothing at all had ever happened, like it was any other normal evening. But as luck would have it, that wasn’t what happened.

Izuku switched the lights off and exited the bathroom, making the short trip to the bed with ease before he stood still at the foot of it for a moment. There was a soft whisper of something, your name maybe? You were too nervous to tell.

“Y/N...?”

Something in his tone caused your heart to race with worry. He was testing you, seeing if you were awake...but for what? He usually knew better than to wake you when he came home any time past midnight, even if it was after a few days of intensive training. If he was trying to get your attention now, then it must be something important. Still, you remained “asleep”, a sinking feeling in your gut and a terrifying thought at the back of your brain. There was no way he knew...right?

When you gave no indication that you heard him, he carefully crawled onto the bed and lie down behind you, arms encasing you protectively and lovingly while he buried his nose into your neck. “Y/N,” he said again, his voice raising a bit. You involuntarily tensed at the sound, and you shriveled in horror as Izuku propped himself up on one elbow behind you while he used his other arm to shake you gently. There was no way you were getting out of this now; he knew you were awake by your movements. if you weren’t apprehensive before, then you surely were now.

“Izu?” you murmured in your best sleepy voice you could muster.

“Hi, love.” There was something in his normally heartwarming smile, something more complicated than usual behind the forest green of his irises as he looked you over. “I’m home.” The crack in his voice took you by surprise, and you saw tears beginning to form on his long lashes.

“Izu, what’s wrong?” You immediately reached out to him, your insecurities and worries all but forgotten about in the moment. “Did something happen while you were away?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that...”

He welcomed your touch, grasping your smaller hand in one of his much larger ones as you cupped his cheek. He gave you a small smile before leaning into your hand, and no other words were spoken as the two of you sat together in silence for a moment, Izuku trying to calm his ragged breathing while you stared up at him in concern. Finally, he seemed to find his resolve as he sighed heavily and sniffed, eyes fluttering open just to focus solely on you. Izuku shifted so that he was lying back down, one arm draped over your side as you faced him, both of your bodies comfortably resting against one another while you held his gaze.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer as honestly as you can, okay?”

Immediately your heart thundered to life in your chest. You tried to reassure yourself that you were just overthinking things, that there was no logical way he could know about what you’d done while he was away. Was there...?

“Okay.” You hoped your voice didn’t seem as shaky as you felt.

“Are you bottling things up again?” He was so gentle. The tone in which he asked you had been soft, his eyes glossy, his touch tender as he ran a careful hand over your shoulder and down your back to rub small circles against it.

“What do you mean?”

Maybe if you acted ignorant, he wouldn’t try to press you any further. But then, this was Izuku, wasn’t it? Who we’re you trying to kid?

“You didn’t seem like yourself when I called you last night. And your friend said you seemed a little off the other day during your visit. I’m just worried about you. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Sure, there were lots of things you wanted to say, but you didn’t have the courage to say any of them out loud. So instead of confiding in Izuku, you chose to pull away emotionally. Luckily for you, however, this did not manage to go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“No...I’m fine. Promise.”

“Oh, honey...” The amount of care and concern he held for you in his words made you feel vulnerable. Izuku pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt in your life, his strong arms wrapping around you in a comforting way while he continued. “You don’t have to pretend that everything is okay. I know it’s not.”

Shameful tears dripped sorely from your cheeks as his words started to sink in. After so long of keeping all your feelings to yourself, they finally spilled over and flowed out of you in the form of teardrops that soaked the pillow underneath you. Your walls crumbled and caved, and you clung to Izuku for dear life as you let everything out in the safety of his hold.

“I’m sorry!” you whispered harshly against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-!” For what, you weren’t sure- you just felt the need to apologize. Maybe for relapsing, maybe for crying- or maybe for both.

Izuku hushed you and let you soak his dirtied shirt for as long as you needed. When your sniffles had become less frequent and your hiccups much quieter, he brought his hands to your face, cupping it gently and looking you in the eyes. “Y/N. I love you, and nothing you do or say could change that. Alright?” You nodded in understanding. “I know you’re not okay. I don’t think you realized, but when I went into the bathroom, you...” He struggled to finish his sentence, tears welling up in his eyes again. “You left it out.”

Shit.

Fuzzy memories from earlier played back in your mind as you realized you’d forgotten to put something away that Izuku wasn’t supposed to see. You’d been too busy cleaning the bathroom to remember that you left it sitting on the ledge of the medicine cabinet, right next to the bandages and antiseptic. No wonder he’d stopped brushing his teeth so fast; he must have seen it and put two and two together fairly quickly after that. So then...he knew after all.

“I’m sorry!”

You wanted to say so much more than that. You wanted to tell him you were afraid- afraid that he would leave you, that he would hate you, that he would judge you even though you knew he was the most loving and caring person you could ever ask for. You wanted to tell him you regretted it, that you hated yourself for it, that you wished you could take it back. Of all the things to leave your mouth, those words seemed stuck on repeat. But luckily for you, Izuku always seemed to know how to read you and your words.

Izuku let go of your face before wrapping you in his arms once more, your head tucked under his chin. “Love, it’s okay. Everything’s alright. I’m not angry, though I am upset that you’re hurting.”

“It was stupid, and I’m sorry, and I wish I never-”

Izuku cut you off. “Oh, Y/N, no. It’s not stupid. You’re in pain, it’s your way of trying to cope. It’s not healthy, and it’s not good, but it’s how you’re trying to survive. And that’s not stupid, Y/N, it’s human. And to be human is to make mistakes.” He gave you a moment to process before carrying on. “Slip ups happen. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, or that your progress is all gone, or even that you’re weak. It’s a normal thing. Recovery isn’t linear.”

“What does that mean?” you asked between sobs.

“It means it’s not a straight line, baby. You can’t just quit something cold turkey like that and expect things to go so smooth. It’s great if it does, but...the reality of it is that everyone is different, and while you’ve made a lot of progress already, there will always be ups and downs. And just because you had a relapse doesn’t mean that everything you’ve done before this doesn’t matter anymore. It just means things aren’t so good right now. But we can make them better, together. Okay?”

“Okay...” you mumbled.

“I love you. I’m proud of you for getting this far. We can make it through this, and I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll do my part and start checking in with you more often, okay?”

You pressed your face into the dry spot of his shirt and clutched at it with both hands. Izuku was your rock, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He was willing to go through this with you and help support you, and that meant the world to you in a place where you felt alone and not worth the time of day.

“I-Izuku?” you hiccuped.

“I’m here,” came his calm reply.

“Don’t leave me, please...”

“Oh, Y/N, I would never. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m here.”

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #deku #izuku #midoriya #midoriya izuku #hurt/comfort #tw: self harm #tw self harm #tw sh #tw: sh #bnha #mha #izuku midoriya x reader

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

focused.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thanks to kira for helping me through the last dregs of this!! you’re amazing!! As promised, here’s lo-fi/mayhem in our ajf world. as (usually) usual, no context required to enjoy, but it’s pretty fun over here!

words: 6.4k warnings: language, canon-typical injury/violence, everyone’s mad and everyone’s worried!

summary: “knowing when to fight is just as important as knowing how.” terry goodkind, faith of the fallen. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: february 1st, 2021

“Don’t get comfortable. There will be time to debrief on the plane.” Hotch’s eyes are trained on the monitor, where grainy security footage plays and replays an exceedingly casual murder in an underground subway station.

Reid, entering behind you, squints at the monitor. “Where are we headed?”

“New York.”

Rossi advances on the monitor. “Five shootings in two weeks. It’s about time we got the call.”

You watch as Hotch replays the tape again. “Why the delay?”

Aaron doesn’t answer you, but rather addresses Derek. “I want to take Garcia with us. Hopefully they’ll give us access to their surveillance systems.”

He’s distracted, almost absent-minded. It’s odd.

“What do we know?” You try again with another question, and Emily dips her chin - she had the same one.

Hotch pauses the video, turning toward the rest of you - loosely circled around the table. “All the killings are mid-day. Single gunshot to the head with a .22.”

“Any witnesses?” As always, JJ looks for somewhere to go as soon as wheels are down.

She really doesn’t get paid enough.

There’s something odd in her voice and temperament this morning, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Now that you’re really awake and looking around, everyone's a little jumpy this morning. It doesn't help that the two most grounded people on the team are the most absent-minded of you all.

“No.”

Spencer pipes up. “.22-caliber pistol’s only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over a hundred.”

“So,” you ask, “could it be such that possible witnesses don’t even clock it before the unsub’s already on their way?”

Spencer nods.

Derek shifts beside you. “They sound like mob hits.”

Aaron dips his chin, but says, “Except none of them have ties to organized crime.”

The rest of the facts and questions fly past you - no connection between victims, no communication or contact, surveillance footage that shows next to nothing, an establishment that the unsub is bold and well-trained.

Seems completely random.

Spencer voices your next thought. “Son of Sam all over again.”

The grim look on Aaron’s face tells you all you need to know.

+++

Derek, Penelope, and Emily shoot the shit as they get on the plane, but you notice JJ staring forlornly out the window. You resolve to discover what that’s about as soon as possible. Having her down was odd…

But she has been acting strange lately, not just today.

You sit beside Hotch, across from Reid as Rossi flips through photos of the victims.

Spencer makes astute observations about the continued pattern of, well, no pattern at all, while Hotch provides some remarks here and there.

One of them catches your attention. “It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?”

Yeah, because those always go over so well.

“Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly.” He calls out to JJ, who then informs the pilot you’re all ready to get wheels up. “Kate’s starting to butt heads with the local detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.”

There’s something in his voice you can’t place. History, maybe?

“Joyner, I know her,” Derek says. “She’s a Brit, right?”

Hotch shrugs. “Well, dual citizenship. Her father’s British, her mother’s American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau.”

You look over at him.

That’s a ridiculous amount of knowledge for someone who doesn’t work in the same state, Aaron.

“I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass.” It’s a test. The defiant tip of Derek’s chin tells you as much.

Hotch takes the bait. “I didn’t think so.”

You can’t help it. “You know her?”

“We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard.”

You look at Emily, who shrugs.

“And she’s good?” You wouldn’t call Dave’s tone skeptical, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was another test. He’s a lot subtler than Morgan.

Hotch looks back at Dave. “I think we’re lucky to have her.”

+++

You all step out of the elevator, and you stay closest to JJ. Her absent-mindedness had yet to leave her, and as the person closest to her age, you were doing your best to support her with your presence alone.

JJ leans toward you as you approach the center of the office. “Is it just me or does she look -”

“- exactly like Haley?” You finish JJ’s thought. “Yeah.”

There’s a little smile you can see on Aaron’s face, just touching his profile. Agent Joyner has one too, and it makes you feel...something.

Whatever it is, it isn’t comfortable.

“Kate.”

“Aaron. How’ve you been?”

You take another glance at JJ. She seems to have the same thought as you.

First name basis? How close are they?

“Well, thank you. This is my team.” He introduces you all one by one, and you attempt to plaster a polite smile on your face, just like everyone else. Derek’s the only one who doesn’t make an effort, and you tap the side of his shoe with your foot.

Penelope gets settled right away, and the NYPD detectives approach shortly after that. Of course, they start with a snide remark at Spencer. Your hackles rise, and you take a little huff of a breath.

Calm down.

Kate introduces Detectives Brustin and Cooper. Dave gets right to the point, doing his best to establish baseline rapport.

It doesn’t work.

You don’t notice that you’ve crept closer to Aaron throughout the proceedings, now standing just off his shoulder, next to Emily, until Kate leans into him. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

The crumpling of your brow is quick, and you hope nobody noticed. Emily’s head, whirling around to look at Derek, is far less subtle.

“Sure.”

Emily tracks back to JJ, who looks confused. In a hushed and suggestive tone, she tells her, “They...liaised when she was at Scotland Yard.”

You hide your laugh in your shoulder, covering your movement with an attempt to adjust your backpack.

Derek steps up behind you. “Let me get that for you, kiddo.”

You look up at him, hard-pressed to keep your mirth to yourself. A little smile plays at the edge of his lips as well. He turns you around when he’s done pretending to be helpful, holding you in the little huddle that develops between the rest of you and the NYPD detectives.

Derek’s eyes keep flickering to Kate’s office, where she and Hotch chat informally and perhaps even fondly, to an extent. Heat rises in your cheeks.

Get over yourself.

+++

You attempt to ignore the sheer amount of time Aaron spends looking over Kate’s shoulder behind her desk. Tearing your eyes from her office window, you return to your task.

The whiteboard marker in your hand is seeing lots of use as you follow Spencer’s instructions, tracing lines between key points, making notes, etc. Cooper’s banter with Emily puts a little smile on your face.

“Anti-geographical profiling? Now you wonder why we’re so skeptical?” Cooper’s voice is full of play, but there’s a very real concern behind it.

Emily laughs, but then explains, “This unsub’s organized. He strikes at the same time of day, he knows where the cameras are placed. That means he’s doing his own surveillance.”

You offer your two cents in support of Spencer, who outlines the difference between need-motivated killers and organized killers. Cooper looks a little impressed by the time you add, “So, essentially, we need to look everywhere this unsub isn’t to find where he lives. He has a comfort zone, and we just have to find it.”

“What are we finding?” Hotch and Kate roll out of her office, and he settles beside you, peering at the map.

You look over your shoulder at him. “He’s organized, so we’ve redirected to an anti-geographical profile.”

“Keep looking.” He turns on his heel and walks out the door, Kate trailing behind him with a confidence that tightens your jaw.

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she is a pain in the ass.

+++

You keep your eyes up as Rossi and Hotch inspect the body on the busy New York street. Your mind wanders to a lecture at the academy, the voice of the late Jennifer Shepard echoing through your head.

“Always watch the watchers.”

But then again, she’d always backed it up with another story about “the man with all the rules” to undermine the rules in question. The stories did more than make you laugh - they helped you remember.

“See anything?” Hotch looks up, not at you, but you know you have his attention.

You shake your head, your eyes still on the crowd. “Nothing obvious.”

He hums, and tunes back in as Derek says, “From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they’re gonna get is the back of his head.”

“Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” Kate meets Derek’s eyes and stares him down. You bristle, but Hotch turns just the smallest bit toward you, reminding you to behave.

The detective makes another snide remark as Kate brushes past the rest of you.

Derek turns toward Hotch, and you step back, giving them the illusion of privacy. “You mind telling me why I’m catching attitude from her?”

Because you’re better at your job? Because you don’t have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Atlantic? Because you probably haven’t maybe slept with our unit chief, maybe?

“FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t bring this case home, she’s gonna be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Aaron squints a little, but his words are deeply genuine. “Why should you be surprised? You’re good at your job. People notice that.”

He’s right.

“What happened to the Bureau patting itself on the back from stealing her away from Scotland Yard?”

Hotch shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know. Politics here are different. And you can see she doesn’t pull punches.” He walks away, and Derek looks over his shoulder at you.

With a little smile, you say, “He’s right, you know.”

“You’re a terrible ass-kisser, kid.”

Nevertheless, he taps your shoulder with his knuckle and you both make your way to Rossi, examining a tarot card.

+++

“We’ve got more than one unsub.” Hotch’s tone is more than defeated, and you peer further over his shoulder, your fingers pressing lightly into the back of his arm for balance.

Rossi circles the desk. “So, we have more than one unsub. What does that tell us?”

“Most teams stick together,” Spencer says. “Ng and Lake. The Krays. Bittaker and Norris. They don’t usually kill separately.”

Derek is next, offering, “Could be some kind of gang initiation.”

Emily and JJ volley about gang operations and local task forces for a moment before Kate asks. “Do you think we have enough for a working profile?”

You startle a little. She’s closer than you thought, on the other side of Hotch. You lean around him, the soft wool of his suit sleeve still under your fingers. “Broad strokes, maybe. Nothing specific, yet.”

Hotch makes a few assignments, but you’re focused on Derek. As you suspected, he has an idea. “I think we should get out on the streets.”

Also unsurprising, Kate has an immediate rebuttal. “I brought you here to create a profile.”

“Which we can give in the morning, and they can share it with the afternoon shift.”

She huffs. “We’ve allocated every extra man we have.” You don’t miss the warning glance Hotch shoots Derek or the way Derek ignores it. “This is New York City. It’s not like adding a few more people is gonna blanket the city.”

“I understand it’s a long shot. But these guys, they hit at mid-day. We could target ingress and egress to particular neighborhoods. Position us near express stops - 14th, 42nd, 59th -”

“Morgan. It’s not your call.” Hotch’s rebuke is harsh, surprising.

You inhale sharply and tuck your lip between your teeth, retracting your hand.

This is gonna be a long case.

+++

Thankfully, you’re all headed back to the hotel in fairly short order. Hotch has all but ordered Kate to bed, and you try not to let your thoughts stray too far in response.

Spencer’s eyes wander up, and you follow them. “JJ -”

Will?

You’d only met him once but like him well enough. He was polite, pleasant, and even funny. Seeing as you hadn’t heard much about him in the last few months, you assumed JJ had broken it off.

Guess not.

She turns. “Will.”

“Hey,” he says, “took a shot and flew to D.C. but it didn’t work. I figured I’d train up to New York - only a few more hours.”

Hotch looks a little surprised, which probably means you do too. He extends his hand. “Detective.”

Will takes it. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working. But, um…” He drops his voice. “I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here - not with what’s going on.”

You look at JJ, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then Hotch, who looks a little confused. Aaron’s the first one to speak, and you’re more than a little touched by the concern in his voice as he addresses JJ and JJ alone. “Is there a problem?”

Will dips his head, and you know he’s disappointed.

What the hell is going on?

She turns toward the team. With a little laugh, she says, “I’m pregnant.”

Hotch freezes, and you step close to him as Emily congratulates her. Will extends his hand and Hotch shakes it again. “I’ve asked JJ to marry me.”

JJ whirls around, and there’s a warning in her voice. “Will.”

“We’re, ah, working out some kinks.”

“We’ll, um” Aaron says, coming back to himself, “give you both some privacy.” He nods and steps away. You follow close behind him, but you fall back as JJ hops after him.

“Hotch -”

There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before when he replies. “JJ, you could have told me.” He almost sounds...hurt? Your brow crumples, and you try to stay out of his eye line as they chat.

Pin that for later...

“I know.”

“I understand if you need to take some time.”

“No, I want to be here.” She’s firm in her conviction, and you can’t say you’d be any different if you were in any similar situation - injury, illness, otherwise.

“Okay. Seven AM.”

She nods and turns back to Will while Hotch continues toward the elevators. The rest of the team passes ahead of you, leaping into the open lift. Aaron hangs back and you follow his lead, letting the doors close.

“Are you okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Just unexpected.”

Taking a little leap, you step close to him in a show of camaraderie. He’d never let on, but he needs contact sometimes. You might even go so far as to say the poor man is touch-starved.

He wraps his arm around you, and you bite back a pleased smile, feeling more than a little chuffed. You examine his profile. “What’s on your mind?”

His shrug says many things. His sigh says more.

“Yeah,” you say. “I know.”

+++

“We’re not having that discussion, right now.” Hotch’s cutoff is flat, and it shoots irritation through you.

Your brow furrows, and you sputter for a second before turning on him. “What’s with you? That’s like the sixth time you’ve shut me down today.”

Hotch opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Kate’s voice chirps from behind you.

“Are all your younger agents this insubordinate, Aaron, or is it limited to this one?”

You grit your teeth, and blatantly ignore the apology blossoming in Hotch’s eyes as you say, “Excuse me, sir.” You turn your head, not quite looking at Kate. “Agent Joyner.” You brush past Hotch, almost shoulder-checking him, and leave the room. The door shuts loudly behind you.

Derek looks up, and you wave him off as he rises to follow.

Throwing the stairway door open, you fly down two flights of stairs before sitting heavily upon the landing. You throw your blazer off, the heat under the fabric only fueling your anger.

Your hands cover your face and you manage three deep breaths before tears press in at your eyes. Molten humiliation courses through you, your face hot and hands shaking.

It’s not fair to expect Kate to understand the rapport you have with Hotch, why you can push him inexplicably further than the rest of your team. It’s not fair, but you still feel betrayed by Hotch’s accommodation of her insecurity and Kate’s own ridiculousness.

The lack of sleep doesn’t help.

A few relevant thoughts regarding the profile float through your head and you pin them for later.

The door opens two floors above, and you hear Aaron’s familiar footsteps hesitate before they slowly descend to your level. You keep your face pressed into your hands as he sits beside you, resting his arms on his knees.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

You sniff, but don’t answer. He waits for you, a few minutes passing in silence, but you don’t have anything to say.

“I’ve done my best to make Kate feel supported, but I -” he huffs, and you know he’s working hard to properly articulate his feelings. You appreciate it. “I’ve failed both you and Morgan in the process. I’ve explained the situation to him, but I didn’t speak to you before I…” He trails off. “For that, I’m sorry.”

You drop your hands from your face, wiping at the evidence of your anger. “Just...remember who’s on your team, would you?”

“I do.”

“Then -” You throw your arms up and huff at him, his response inspiring a new wave of irritation in your chest. “Then why the fuck are you riding my ass about this shit today? You haven’t taken a single one of my ideas, and all but one has been really good.”

He sighs. “I know. I also know that you can take it. I trust you to be resilient in difficult political situations such as this one. I don’t have that same trust in Kate right now.” He pauses and you watch his left thumb worry a track back and forth over the knuckle of his middle finger. Your eyes wander to the barely-noticeable tan line where his wedding ring used to sit. With a start, you realize you didn’t notice its absence and you don’t know when he took it off. When he speaks again, your eyes snap back to your feet. “Your ability to step away instead of rightfully lashing out at Kate speaks to your excellence and professionalism in your role, and shows me my faith is not misplaced.”

You look at him, finding his brown eyes soft and apologetic. “Thanks.”

He grabs your blazer off the ground and stands. He straightens his suit jacket, offering you a hand. You take it and rise, using the back of your other hand to rid yourself entirely of tears.

With gentle hands, he slips your blazer over your shoulders, fixing the collar and brushing debris off the back. You let him fuss, knowing all the while his concern is another apology.

“It’s far too organized to be just organized crime, by the way,” you inform him casually, as if remarking on the weather.

He looks almost startled. “What?”

You tug on his arm and take the stairs two at a time back up to Kate’s floor. “Look.” He follows you as you burst back through both sets of doors into the conference room, stepping in front of Kate for access to the map. “We have more than one unsub. They’ve attacked different neighborhoods across Manhattan - all different demographic and socio-economic backgrounds. They’re trying to send a message, and each attack is a play to build their audience. If anything, our presence tells them that it’s working.”

A look of realization crosses Hotch’s face, and he presses a hand to your shoulder, his fingertips squeezing just a little before he lets go. “Well done.” He turns to Kate. “We’re ready to update the working profile.”

You keep your eyes trained on Aaron, but Kate’s clenched jaw doesn’t escape your notice.

+++

“Focused? From where I’m standing, your focus is on her.”

It’s finally come to a head. Derek has absolutely lost it, rightfully so, in the middle of the federal building, while Hotch tries to keep the peace, and Kate looks appropriately chastised.

You reach for Derek’s elbow with gentle fingers, but he shakes you off.

“Take a walk. Now.” Aaron’s tone is nothing to trifle with, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Fuck.

“Derek. C’mon.” You yank once on his sleeve and lead him out the doors. He’s pissed, almost vibrating with energy.

You look over your shoulder exactly once to check on Aaron, who leans heavily over a desk. When he looks up, you turn your head before he can meet your gaze.

Yes, it’s a punishment. Yes, he knows it. He'll get your attention once he’s earned it again.

Derek cools off a little once you get outside, and he leads the way to the hotel bar. You’re sure you'd be better off returning to your post upstairs, but he needs you more than anyone else right now.

You also don’t trust yourself to be in the same room as Aaron - the likelihood of losing your usually-endless patience with him is dangerously high. At this rate, you’d get yourself a first-class ticket to Suspension City - at worst ending with your removal from the unit.

There was no way on this green earth that you’d end up off the unit of Hotch had any say, but your exhausted brain was only giving you the worst-case scenario at the moment.

He sits heavily on a barstool and orders a Stella. You don’t comment on his choice to drink while on the clock. You take a water, and wait for him to speak. He doesn’t touch his beer.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course.”

“You should go back.”

Looking up, you see Rossi walking through the doors. “Alright, but you’re not getting out of anything.” By the time you’ve finished, Dave is at Derek’s other side, getting comfortable. You press a hand to Derek’s shoulder, leaving them alone.

You take a few deep breaths before returning to the proper floor. Kate is in her office with Hotch over her shoulder.

He looks up when you walk in. How’s Morgan?

“He’ll be back.”

+++

You reach Emily with Derek and JJ, and she looks flustered.

“Are you okay?” Derek takes stock of Emily, but you figure out there’s nothing to know about Cooper.

Emily walks through the moments before and during the shooting, growing increasingly intense. You watch her as Derek digs and digs - finding the right questions for the answers she wants to share.

“Wait,” you ask. “You think he deliberately shot someone where he could be caught?”

“What if he did?” Her eyes are wild, angry. “What if they chose this spot because we were here?”

“What are you thinking?” Derek leans forward, searching her face for answers.

She enumerates her points. “He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him. He was strangely calm- it’s almost like suicide by cop.”

“Why?” You hear yourself ask. “Why would he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to make us think everything was finished.”

You look at Derek. He looks back at you.

“We need to walk back through this profile.”

Just then, Aaron and Kate dip under the police tape and make a beeline for Rossi and Reid. Dave looks grim and you can’t hear what they’re saying, but you’re sure they’ve come to the same conclusion as you.

Terrorism.

+++

“So much for theory.” Dave uncrosses his arms and the room leaps into action.

Kate grabs her blazer and looks at Aaron. “We need to hit the ground running.”

“I'm gonna head to the hospital,” Emily says, already headed for the door. “I'll check on Cooper and brief detective Brustin.”

“Good.” Aaron makes the rest of the assignments. “Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner?” He assigns you and Derek to Homeland Security for a briefing, and you grab your things. You will be Derek’s shadow for the duration, and you’re more than happy you’re with him.

So why does something feel...wrong?

You look at Aaron, and his brow is furrowed. He meets your eyes. What’s wrong?

I don’t know.

His mouth presses into a thin line. This first, then that.

You nod and he starts talking again. “Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we'll meet back here as soon as possible.”

“One advantage that we have right now is that they don't know we know they're watching.”

For once, you agree with Kate. It’s about damn time.

+++

You get into the car with Derek and head toward the DHS field office.

“I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done well.”

Smiling a little, you thank him. “Though I do think we’ve pushed Hotch to the absolute limit this week, between the two of us.”

He rolls his eyes, speeding down the shockingly barren New York streets. “If one of us isn’t, who is?”

“Rossi.”

You both freeze as an explosion goes off. You don’t know where it is, but Derek turns around with a spectacular screech of tires.

“Derek...What -”

“We’re going back. That’s not good. Let’s go.” He guns the engine, and you’re on your way back to the federal building with sirens blaring.

His phone rings and he checks the caller ID as he answers. “Yeah. I'm still here.” He looks at you. “We’re still here.”

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

Garcia.

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?”

“Alright, we're going over the closed-circuit footage right now.” You can hear her faintly through the phone, and he puts her on speaker.

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You're the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“All right. Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.”

Emily picks up next. “Is everyone ok?”

Garcia tells her she’s got the both of you on the line, and she’s already spoken to Rossi and Reid.

Your body is almost completely bowed toward Derek, twisted in the passenger seat. “Emily, where are you?”

“I'm following detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s Critical Incident Command Posts.”

“One of them?” Garcia’s confusion is only a little frantic, and you more than sympathize with her tangent. Anything is a better thought than the one you’re all sharing at this very moment.

Derek explains the decentralization of the CICP’s following 9/11 - too many eggs in one basket.

Garcia cuts him off, getting back on track. “Has anyone talked to JJ?”

Emily answers her. “She was headed back to the hotel.”

“In an SUV?

“I think so. Stay with me a minute. I'll dial her mobile.”

JJ’s voicemail rings through Derek’s phone, and your heart sinks. “This is Agent Jareau, Communications Director for the FBI’s Behavioral--” It cuts off.

You lean over the center console. “What was that? What happened?”

Garcia’s voice is flustered when she answers, “It went dead mid-message.”

“Try her again. She's probably back at--” You lose Emily.

You lost all of them in the middle of a sentence, and all the blood drains out of your face. Derek drops his phone into one of the cupholders and reaches out. You grab his hand, holding it in both of yours.

This is a nightmare.

Derek keeps driving, and you find a police barricade on your way back to the federal building. Derek throws the car into park and you both leap out of the car, flashing your badges at anyone who will look. You find the man in charge, but he tells you to get back to the federal building.

Hot anger flies through you.

Who does he think he is?

You stick close to Derek, but startle when you hear Hotch cry out. Pressing along the barricade, you call across the block. “Aaron! Aaron! We’re here!”

You get leave to go, and you and Derek sprint toward Aaron and Kate. He’s covered in blood, both his and Kate’s and you get on one side of him while Derek crouches on the other side of Kate. Your hands flutter over him for a moment, one of them landing on the nape of his neck. The softness of his hair is the same as it’s always been, and it grounds you.

“Aaron -”

He’s not looking at you. “Morgan, we've got to get her out of here.”

Derek throws his arm out of the side, outlining the situation. “They're not letting any ambulances down here ‘til they clear the scene.” He turns to the young man hovering behind Aaron. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

Hotch nods at him. “Go, Sam.”

“Good luck.” The kid sprints off, and Derek draws Hotch’s focus again.

“Talk to me. Can we carry her?” He leans further over Kate, into Aaron’s eye line. “Hotch, can we carry her?”

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.” The ache in his voice is horrible. You reach out, brushing some hair off Kate’s forehead. She’s cold to the touch, and you press your hand to the side of her face, willing your warmth into her.

“C’mon Kate.” You whisper to yourself. She’s still not your favorite person, but Aaron’s agony as he literally holds her body together tears your heart in two.

Derek’s phone rings, and it’s Penelope. “Garcia, I got Hotch. But listen to me. You gotta get somebody down here right away, you hear me? Right now. What? You're absolutely sure?” Derek looks up, finding the kid standing by the shelled remains of the car. “Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber.”

“Go.” Aaron’s voice is defeated, and you hesitate as your body coils to chase after Derek. Aaron looks at you. “Please. Stay.”

You nod, and tuck in close to him, keeping one hand on his arm and another on Kate’s cheek. An ambulance pulls up, and you’re more than relieved.

Hotch briefs the paramedic. “She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed.

“You ok?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour.

“I just want to get her out of here.”

That’s not a fucking answer, Aaron.

You let it go, for now. He’s a mess, but he’s alive and he’s conscious. That’s what’s important right now. You tune back in.

“You were calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.”

Aaron leans into Kate, and your heart pulls again. “Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here.”

You help as much as you can, following instructions and making sure Kate’s stable.

+++

When you’re all finished, you get into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Hotch is on autopilot and he shouldn’t be driving, but you’re ready to take over at a moment’s notice.

When you’re stopped at the emergency room entrance, you flash your credentials as Hotch explains the situation as clearly as he can. The Secret Service agent reluctantly waves you through. Kate’s crashing in the back, and Aaron’s agitation flies through the roof.

It’s a blur, but you finally end up in the hospital, shadowing Aaron. He collapses, and you cry out for help, holding his hands as he hits the ground.

Everything's happening so fast.

When will it end?

+++

“Kiddo, where’s Hotch?” Derek comes flying through the doors of the ER, and you throw yourself into him.

“He’s fine. Massive trauma to his right ear and a shrapnel wound. Kate’s in surgery.”

There’s a commotion from behind the open door, and you both rush in when you hear Hotch’s voice.

You get in between Hotch and the attending, doing your best to calm him down. “Aaron, Hotch. Calm down. Slow down. You’re really hurt.”

“Where’s Kate?”

You press your hands into his wrists, and he twists his arms, surprising you by gripping your forearms. “She’s in surgery. Your go-bag is on its way. Nothing’s happened since the first blast.”

He looks somewhat placated but looks over at Derek. “Sam?”

“He’s dead.”

Hotch releases you. “Morgan, the profile's wrong. Call JJ.”

+++

“Are you ok?” Emily takes full stock of him, and isn’t happy with what she finds.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I'm still alive.” You help him with his vest, minding his shoulder. You’re not sure what’s wrong with it, but he’s favoring one over the other. He looks at you, and there are thanks in his brown eyes. You offer him a quick, soft smile but continue with your task, gently tightening the vest around his tender ribs, smoothing over the velcro with even pressure.

You’re listening as they go along, talking signatures and bomb-making and all manner of horrific precedent. You pass two pieces of fresh cotton to Hotch, who immediately replaces the bloodied cotton in his right ear. He shakes his head with two deep blinks.

His ears are ringing something stupid right now, I bet.

I wish I could do more.

Just be here. Do your job. That’s what you can do.

All at once, you figure out that the ambulance is the bomb. You spot Hotch as he moves (way too fast) down the hallway.

Goddamn it, Aaron.

+++

The bastard slit his throat.

Fuck.

The look on Aaron’s face is nothing short of disgust, and you’re sure yours matches.

+++

You’re waiting for him when he walks out of the operating room. His eyes are hollow and they seem to look through you rather than at you.

“Hotch - Aaron - I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t particularly like Kate, but you know how much he cared for her. His pain often feels like yours - even more frequently, you can't parse his from yours. While you didn’t expect to mourn her, you find that weight in your belly anyway. Your eyes mist up against your will, your breath hitching in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything, and your voice is almost desperate when you ask, “What can I do?”

Brown eyes flicker around the room. He looks more like a caged animal in this moment than in any other you’ve ever seen. You approach him slowly, and you’re not sure if he heard you. There’s still blood on his neck from his ear, and you’re terrified he’s lost his hearing for good.

“Aaron?”

He finally acknowledges you when you’re close enough to him to take his hand. You catch him as he wilts, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he tucks his head into your neck.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

He mumbles something into your shoulder, and you lean back, holding him up with your hands on his biceps.

“What?”

“Call Haley. Tell her, please. They got along really well. She’d want to know.”

You nod and guide him to a chair. He sits heavily, tilting his head against the wall. Pulling your phone from your belt, you ask, “Do you want me to stay here?”

He nods, his eyes closed.

You dial the familiar number and hold the phone to your ear, settling down on his left so he can hear.

Haley answers the phone, a question at the end of your name.

“Yeah, Haley, it’s me. Hi.”

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

You look at Aaron, who’s still and quiet beside you. “Not really.”

“I heard about the bombing in New York, the murders...Is everyone alright?”

“We’re alright. Aaron’s fine - some mild injuries but nothing serious.”

“Okay?” You hear the unspoken question. Then why are you calling?

“I was told you’d - um.” You take a deep breath, and it catches. Aaron flips his hand palm-up on his knee, and you take it. “I was told you were close with Kate Joyner, from the New York field office. She used to be at Scotland Yard?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Her voice falters. “Wait. Oh, God…”

“Haley I’m so sorry.” You swallow some tears. “I’m so sorry, but she was killed in the bombing.”

You hear a shaky breath on the other side of the line. “Oh.” There’s a pause, and you suspect she has more to say. You’re right. “Aaron told you to call, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

She sighs. “Can I talk to him?”

You look over and he nods, releasing your hand and holding it out for the phone. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She says something else, and you put the phone back to your ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

You nod to yourself. “Of course. Here’s Aaron.”

He takes the phone from you. An exhausted, “Hi,” leaves him.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re alright.”

A little smile pulls at his lips. “I’m alright. How’re you?”

Her bright laugh echoes faintly through the phone, but there’s a solemn edge to it. “You’re asking me how I am?”

His eyebrows rise, his eyes still closed. “Isn’t that polite?”

You can almost see her suppressed smile. “It is. I’m fine. Jessica and I just finished dinner and put Jack down for the night.”

“How’s Jack?”

You tune out, the exhaustion taking over. Aaron pats the seat on his other side and you shuffle around, tucking yourself under his open arm. Leaning against his shoulder, you close your eyes, letting the voices of two divorced people who love each other very much lull you into something that feels a little like sleep.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Old Man

Nathan Bateman x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Nathan’s feeling nihilistic on his birthday— mostly hating on his looks. You show him how wrong he is.

A/N: AhH I’m so excited for my first Nathan fic 🥰 thanks for pushing me to write the fic for worshiping Nathan’s bald head and beard @writefightandflightclub ! I’m hoping I did ok with Nathan’s characterization 😫This is all for Oscar Isaac’s birthday which also happens to be on MGG’s birthday!! So that’s why there’s two fics tonight! Happy birthday to Oscar Isaac 🥰 Requests are open and thanks for reading!

Warnings: Nathan having an existential crisis about his age— and implied age gap, one sexual innuendo, heavy drinking

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.1k

Something was wrong with Nathan, much more than usual. Though some people would say that there’s always been something wrong with him, mainly due to how big his ego can be.

His ego seemed to have taken a bit of a bruising though by the skittish way he had been acting all day. At first you had thought you had maybe done something to make him even more aloof than he already was. But, he usually would’ve been much more brusque with you, he seemed more somber today.

Today happened to be his birthday, you assumed that must be the culprit for some reason. Though, normally when a holiday he despised came around to be celebrated the day was filled with blunt jokes about consumerism and commercialization.

He had been typing away all night and well into the morning which, again, wasn’t that odd of behavior for Nathan. But, it was the stench of alcohol that permeated through the stark halls and the sad eyes he flashed you that let you know that something was off.

When you had first gotten into a relationship with him you had given him the ultimatum to not drink so heavily as you were afraid he would drink himself to death with the sheer amount he had been consuming. The compromise was a hard one to reach, but he had eventually agreed as you were the only person he had ever wanted to truly stay before. He had surprisingly taken your words to heart, only drinking a glass of wine at dinner now and maybe a glass extra when you two were feeling a bit more fancy.

After you had thrown away the empty bottles you made your way into his office where he was still typing away furiously as if he was trying to take out his feelings onto the keyboard.

When you took your usual place perched on his lap with your chest facing his own he tensed, like he had only done the first few times you had done this. Now that you had been together for quite some time your place on his lap was a sure thing, either clothed or naked most of the time.

You didn’t push him to speak, you only moved closer to his chest to wrap him up tighter and began to rub circles with your thumbs on his head.

You were quite used to silence around Nathan as he found great solace in it at times, this was a different type of silence though. This was a silence so stark you could feel it creeping all the way through you, making you shudder slightly. When he felt your shoulders rumble from the shudder it was as if something in his mind clicked to remind him that you were there and he spoke just a little,

“I’m old…” Ah, he was having an existential crisis because it happened to be his birthday. He never had wanted to celebrate it and you respected that, only putting a little bit more effort in on the day by cooking his meals instead of Kyoko. Though his words concerned you, you had been with him for a few years now and he had never voiced his concerns about aging out loud

However, he always was a bit nihilistic so you weren’t that surprised that once he reached a certain age that his impending mortality would slap him in the face instead of letting him live in blissful ignorance thinking of himself as some sort of god. Though, you would still not characterize him as old.

“You’re not old.” You said simply not wanting to hide behind flowery language, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate that.

“You deserve someone younger, someone who’ll be around to take care of you longer.” You scoffed a little, a little irritated that he thought you needed to be taken care of. But, you knew he meant well, he knew you could take care of yourself as you had shown him time and time again. It was just a very Nathan way of phrasing it.

“Well you’re sure a sap today, Nathan.” You joked in hopes of lightening the mood. Instead you were met with a glare from Nathan that made you quiet again, resuming stroking his head.

After a while of tense silence he spoke again, “Why would you want to be with someone like me? I’m an asshole with a bald head and a graying beard.”

“Thought you would know by now how much I

love that beard of yours- and your bald head.” Was your response while you moved your hand up to the top of his head to stroke it. It wasn’t like he had never voiced his insecurities to you before, but that was when he was wasted before you guys had gotten together, he definitely didn’t remember it. You moved your other hand to simultaneously stroke his wiry beard before speaking again, “And- your my ass hole and I love you for it.”

You lent down to kiss his nose lightly. Normally he would have wrinkled it and pulled away while calling you a sap, the fact that he didn’t made you frown a little. He definitely was feeling down if he didn’t have a crack back at your remarks. But, you continued to try to comfort him as he had not moved away from you.

You lent down again to kiss right between his furrowed brows set deep with worry. Sighing lightly he let his furrowed brows relax some, hopefully helping melt some of the other tension he held in his body.

You lent down again for the third time to kiss right on top of his head lingering a bit longer than you had for the previous ones. In your head you were imagining whispering praising phrases about how much you loved his bald head and beard, maybe someday he’ll be open to listening to all of the praises you had for him.

Until that time you tried communicating your praises through your touch and your eyes as you looked into his own deep almost onyx irises. Once you could feel him relax into you, like he finally trusted your words you decided to try and cheer him up again, “Happy birthday, old man.” And, this time I finally got a laugh out of him.

——

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

Nathan Bateman (new tag list):

#oscarisaacweek #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #bateman #nathan bateman fanfic #nathan bateman fic #nathan bateman fanfiction

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (part four)

-part four because I couldn’t fit everything in part three-i went overboard, I’m sorry

-please enjoy I worked a month on getting this out, haha. it is a labour of tears and love.

---->PREVIOUS PART <-----

Summary: You need your memories back. But how will you get them?

Gracefield House

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?” You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die. Die. Die. Die. He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try. Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together?

“Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. He forced himself to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Don’t struggle.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off the ground. Your leg hit Mama’s arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma stood frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She wrapped you in a tight embrace and you rubbed her back comfortingly. It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

(University name), DAY TWO

Class went by rather quickly today, and maybe that was because you were sure you’d seen similar material before. Each answer came easily along with each mark on your paper like a memory from long ago. You’ve answered harder questions, much more difficult tests that held more weight than a simple grade.

“I was impressed by your extensive knowledge on world history,” said Mr. Baker. He was the world history teacher. Unlike the others, he was young, perhaps in his mid twenties. In the hour you’ve gotten to know him and the class, you’ve come to realise he’s a class favourite. For good reason, too. His jokes were phenomenal, the material entertaining, and the atmosphere, friendly.

It was like having a conversation between friends rather than teacher to student.

“Do you know what school you went to before you came here?” he inquired. You shook your head. “No. I don’t think I went to any school before this actually...but I’m not sure. I wish I knew, sorry Mr. Baker.” He offered a warm smile. “Maybe my jokes will remind you of something. In the mean time, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll remember eventually.”

Eventually. You didn’t want to remember ‘eventually’. Living a life of ignorance was difficult as it was, why should you continue it? You adjusted your grip on a notebook and said, “See you tomorrow Mr. Baker.”

“Same to you, Letha.”

The cafeteria wasn’t hard to find. Students crowded in the hallways, pushing and shoving as they stuck close to hurry towards for their meals. You didn’t care much for the food. There wasn’t any way it could measure up to your, or Gramps’s, cooking anyway.

“Letha!”

You spun around as much as you could in the congested hall. Flanna raised a hand above her head and waved. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking for you. “Letha, you comin’?” There was no way out of avoiding the red-head. She had too much energy, and an eerily observant eye hidden under her smile.

“Hello to you too, Flanna.” you said, matching her step. Flanna grinned brightly. “Are you excited for lunch? My first day here, I thought it’d taste terrible. You’d be surprised how good it is, but maybe that’s because the school’s expensive.” She let out a snort that was lost to the chatter of the crowd.

The cafe wasn’t all too big. Despite the long tables stretching out across the floor, and the high ceilings and tall windows, it felt small. Crowded. The sheer amount of teens gathered in one area was daunting, scary even. It made your head spin, and your stomach lurch in disgust.

Was this what everyone dealt with every single day? How could they do it? This was madness.

Flanna patted your shoulder and led you towards the lunch line. “You get used to it after a while. Can’t say I have, but it’s not so bad.” She handed you a cup of fruit from a large cooler. You watched as she did the same and instructed the lunch lady on exactly what she wanted.

You copied her. It was all you could do to prevent embarrassing yourself.

Once you found a table, a long sigh left your lips. “That was actually...a bit stressful.” Flanna chuckled good-naturedly. “Oh, I get it, you’re shy, aren’t you? I had a friend like that back in ninth grade when I still lived in the countryside. Couldn’t even go in line without help from me.”

“What happened to that friend?”

“Moved away. Lots of people do. They like the city because it’s “full of opportunity”.” Flanna rolled her eyes. “I think it depends on what you want. I’d prefer a quiet life where all I have to do is take care of a farm. You know, sheep, chicken, cows. It’s easy because the only person who’s your boss is you.”

Flanna clearly didn’t favour modern life as much as her peers. She went on about the difficulties of technology and how they were “nothin’ but trouble” for simple folk. You couldn’t say much about that, but you wish you understood.

The rest of the day went by in a flash. It turned out, your last three classes were with Flanna. She didn’t talk as much in class, but she asked you a lot of questions about why you knew so much. Of course, you couldn't remember, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t know who you truly were.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

The setting sun illuminated the sides of your face as you glared at the frosty grass below your winter boots. You stood outside, wrapped tightly in your thick, fur coat. It was Gramps’s daughter’s before yours, so it smelled like him. The forest. A cosy fireplace. Hot chocolate. It did little to comfort your aching heart, and maybe that was because a part of it was still missing.

Standing in the last rays of sun reminded you of that boy with light hair and kind eyes. It reminded you of his touch that refused to leave your mind. He was scorched there like an emblem on wood.

“So why can’t I remember you?” Your words were lost to the harsh, frosty breezes. “Who are you to me?” He wasn’t family, that much you knew, nor a friend either. He was much more. Much closer to your heart than either of those.

-----

This wasn't a massacre. It was the shambles of a bloody war.

The remnants of limbs and broken bones lay strewn across the throne room, where pools of crimson stained the tile flooring with its iron stench. Part of you wished you hadn’t opened the door, and another said it was your fault for letting everything get this far.

Would you have been able to stop Norman if you ran faster? If you had stopped him earlier?

Your stomach flopped and turned. The smirk painted on Norman’s lips wasn’t right. It wasn’t him. He was satisfied, not with the massacre, but with how perfectly his plan had been executed. It played out like a game of chess. Each pawn he sent out had been eliminated, leaving only the most powerful pieces on the checkered board.

“I’m sorry,” Norman said. “It’s too late (Y/n).”

He wasn’t sorry and he sure didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for lying to you. Or at least, that was what you wanted to believe. Every fibre in your body screamed at you to run at him, slap him to the moon and back, or beat him to a pulp for lying and cheating you all. Yet you couldn’t do it. Not with the way he kept his eyes to the floor.

“I’m so glad you made it back safely,” he added. “It’s a shame you were a little too late.” Your gaze lingered on his for a moment longer before you cast it to Ray and Emma. They stood strong with you, yet you had a feeling they wanted to waver just as much as you.

Emma stared at the sticky crimson under her boot, eyes wide in disbelief. “They’ve...they’ve all been...?”

“Killed.” Norman plainly finished. “They killed each other and they’re all dead now. The Queen, the nobles, the Giran clan. All of them.” Despite the pleasant way he spoke, you had a feeling he didn’t mean it. The Norman you grew up with--no--the Norman you knew wasn’t like this. He was kind. Gentle. Sweet. He cared for everyone and everything, which was why he chose to be shipped out in the first place.

And why he always chose to be the sacrifice.

You heaved in a deep breath. If this were the reality of your situation, you had to accept it. Ignoring Norman for who he was and what he did wouldn’t do a thing.

“I reforged the Promise.” You made your way across the room, eyes straight and head held high. The smug glint in Norman’s eyes vanished.

“Everybody can escape to the human world and no one needs to fight. You don’t have to kill anymore, it’s over.” That was what you wanted to believe with every fibre of your being. But was it really all over? Could you escape to the human world and leave this place after what’s happened?

Norman shook his head, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It’s too late for that.” he plainly said. “No, it’s impossible. A monarchy that has lasted thousands of years has collapsed. Governance for the demons is impossible now. So is peace.” He glanced at the lifeless body behind him. “Iverk was the last one, and I killed him myself.”

You stiffened.

“We’ve put a lethal fissure in the demon society. A fissure that can’t be mended. All that’s left to do is,” he threw out a careless hand, “shatter it. All of the demons will die out. There’s just one more factor left. We can’t go back now. We have no choice but to wipe them out.” He straightened and it was like you were staring at a different person. There was no kindness in his eyes, or that light that you’ve relied on to keep you waking up every morning. “Don’t get in the way.”

You clenched a fist. “No.” Your voice came out strong, reassuring. “What is the point in wiping out a whole race just because we can’t see eye-to-eye? There’s hope and I’ve finally grasped it! For thousands of years, there’s been a cycle of slaughter and war that we have to break. I don’t plan on standing back, and I don’t plan on letting you become more of a murderer!”

Norman’s eyes were dark from under his cloak. “(Y/n)...”

You stood your ground. Defying him was the only way you could stay strong, the only way you could convince him. “We’ll find a way together! It’s not going to be easy, but I know we can do it!”

“(Y/n)...!”

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself again and I’m not letting you do this alone!”

Norman’s tight expression relaxed into an uncomfortably serene smile. “What are you talking about?” he lightly inquired. “Didn’t I tell you? I��m not going anywhere.”

You heaved in a sharp breath because he stopped telling you the whole truth ages ago. He stopped relying on you because he thought he had to do everything alone. “I can’t trust you. You’re a liar! You think you can fool me? I know something’s wrong with you, you’re just trying to hide it! Don’t underestimate the family you grew up with, stupid Norman. We can see through all your lies and tricks!”

You thought back to the day you walked into his office alone.

I know you Norman, don’t forget that.

It had been too long since you’d seen him and thought him dead. Too long since you were able to hold his hands in yours.

And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself.

It was nice to see him again, yet there was something off about him. He hadn’t changed much besides growing as tall as a tree.

I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again...

The only difference was the hesitance in his stance. As if he were trying to hide something very painful in his chest.

...but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.

Then he left your words open-ended, as if he knew he couldn’t possibly lie to your face like that. He knew you saw through him from the start. It was only a matter of time before he acknowledged it.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” you slowly inquired. “Because you’re so smart, you chose the reliable path. Because you’re so kind, you shoulder all the burden. I know you Norman, didn’t I tell you? You don’t want to slaughter the demons! And you don’t want to wipe them out either!”

That was the truth that shone in your heart. You wanted to believe in Norman because he always believed in you. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t have allowed you to go the Seven Walls. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t have allowed you to walk without him.

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself,” you added. “What are you hiding? What are you so afraid of?” He raised a brow challengingly. “Afraid?” Norman wanted to laugh. “I’m not...”

“The Norman in front of me looks like a scared child.” You said it like it was fact, and judging by the way Norman’s gaze unfocused, you were right. He wasn’t just scared, he was terrified. Of the consequences, of how you would look at him again, of how the blood would never, ever wash off.

But it was okay, right? He was strong. Just a little longer and it would all be over.

You took a step forward. Norman firmly held out a hand. “Don’t come any closer.” His voice was void of any emotion, cold even. “I’ve come this far. I have no intention of turning back now.”

“Well that’s too bad!” you exclaimed. “Because neither do I! I’m not letting you go this time!” You grasped his hands in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Yes, you’re strong, yes you’re smart and you’re amazing and all those great things, but you’re stupid too! And arrogant! Can’t you see that you aren’t alone? Don’t be afraid to believe in us! We’re here to share everything. The tough, the burden, the painful things and the scary!”

Emma nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve done that since day one. It’s what we’re here for!” Ray locked gazes with Norman. He wasn’t about to be left out of this, not after Norman’s little stunt back in Grace Field. “Don’t be so reserved either,” he added. “Just spill it!”

You squeezed his hands tighter and stood a little closer. “You don’t need to protect us anymore! We want to walk with you, not behind you!” Answers were simple, but the journey was everlasting and dangerous. You understood what it took to get here even if you weren’t walking in Norman’s shoes. It was difficult. Terrifying. But with all the accomplishments under your belt?

It was time to reunite with him.

“Your family and siblings are your friends.” added Ray. “We don’t want a future where you end up suffering no matter what the result is. And you? What do you want? What do you want to do, Norman?”

He pulled away and the warmth left your hands. “No, it’s no good.” he stated. “You’re already too late. I’m...I’m in a place where I just can’t go back. You can’t walk alongside me--”

“We know.” you interjected. Emma nodded. “About the poison, Mujika and Sonju...”

“And the experiment in the basement.” added Ray. A hopeful smile inched itself onto your lips. “See? We’re not too late. It’s okay to be vulnerable. If you’re the real Norman, then let’s lose our way together. Let’s struggle too, and laugh.” You held out a hand and Emma and Ray joined you.

“Let’s live together.”

Norman didn’t struggle to keep his cool. You re-called the look in his eyes, the same one you saw that night he was told his shipment date. He cried, not just because he chose to get shipped out, but because he was scared. For you. For himself. For his family.

That stifling look of serenity washed off his face. His lips trembled, his shoulders shook, and his eyes watered. You all wrapped each other in a tight embrace. No one deserved to face all the ages of time on their own, no matter what it was, and more than anything, you’d do that for him.

“But...” Norman’s voice trembled. “It’s too late. It's pointless because of the drugs we were forced to take. We don’t have much longer left to live--we can’t live on.” He collapsed to his knees in a heap. “Help me... (Y/n), Emma, Ray... Please...”

That was when all the puzzles finally fit. After laying in wonder for so long with thoughts that kept you awake until the sun rose, you understood. The hesitance in his walk. The way he tried to hide his sluggish step. The way he acted like he was running out of time.

“You’re dying.” The words left your lips before you could even stop them. “It’s...the drugs from Lambda, right?” Norman tried to suppress a sob, but it came out in a way that sounded like he was chocking on his own lies and tears. You took a knee, gently placing a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Norman.”

He couldn’t stand the soft look in your eyes, or the tone in your voice that was like a warm summer breeze. You should have yelled at him. Should have stamped your foot against the ground and growled and slapped him. Yet you knelt in front of him, caressing his dampened cheeks with a touch that said it would all be okay.

Norman wouldn’t look at you--no--he refused to because he was just as you said: a liar. Why were you so kind to him when all he did was lie? He said he’d let you go to the Seven Walls. He said he’d wait for you. He said he wasn’t going anywhere and that he’d live, laugh and do everything to be there with you, for you.

Norman wondered what a murderer like him ever did to deserve you.

-----

The grass crunched under your feet. Towards the brick walls you walked, following the sun as it lowered deeper and deeper towards the ground. You had to keep reaching for it. You had to see it.

In times of trouble, it was your beacon of hope, the last bit of your old life you were sure you could recall. No matter where you were, it was always the first thing you followed. Towards the light. Towards that ray of hope.

You came to a stop at the edge of the school grounds, right where the gates separated you from the outside world bustling with life. The occasional car zoomed through the streets, interrupting the quiet air with its incessant honking and screeching.

The sun disappeared over the horizon, bathing the skies in navy blue and purple.

“Excuse me.”

The voice was light, warm, polite.

“You should really hurry home. It’s not safe out here at this time, especially since we’re students.”

You stuffed your cold hands in your pockets. “I really appreciate your concern,” --you turned to face him-- “but I’m fine. Thank you.”

A boy with light hair and kind eyes met your gaze. Something about him reminded you of something--no--someone. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the boy did. He’d never forget you, no matter how many lifetimes he lived.

“(Y/n)?” He was breathless, frozen in time as you awkwardly knitted your brows together. (Y/n) wasn’t your name. It was Letha, the name Gramps gave to you because you couldn’t remember your own.

Your confused frown made the boy’s eyes well with tears. You stared, watching as he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a pained sob. He was a student here just like you, sporting the traditional sweater vest, white button-up with a tie, and black slacks to match. You’ve never seen him before, yet he looked so...familiar.

Gosh, why couldn’t you remember?

“It’s been over a year and,” he chocked, “I’ve looked everywhere. How could you--how could you do all that for us? You promised we’d live together, but you reforged the Promise and--and...”

The boy's knees wobbled, and out of instinct, you threw out your arms. He fell into you, right at the crook of your neck. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his tears must have been frozen by now. It was cold out here.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was small, fearful almost. It made the boy cry harder. “I don’t know you, but why don’t we go inside? There should be a cafe down there, and they’re open late, so...”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused.

“I’m so sorry.” he echoed. “I wish I was there. I wish--I wish it were me--but instead...”

You patted his back as if you’d known him for a lifetime. Maybe you felt bad and that was why you hadn’t shoved him off, or maybe, it was because having him in your arms felt so right. Familiar in a way you couldn’t put into words.

Your gentle touch made the boy’s sobs relapse. He curled into you, wrapping his arms around your middle like you’d run away. Like you’d disappear. There was something so nostalgic about this hug and the way you both had your arms around each other.

It had happened before.

“The Promise,” the boy muttered, “you made it in exchange for--”

------

Bright, blue sky stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful, and oddly calm. Perhaps a little too calm. After running through a maze of illusions and riddles you struggled to solve, you arrived in this place. Alone. The ground was like water, and with each step you took, it rippled and fanned out.

Someone sat in the middle of this endless sky and water, hovering over it serenely.

“What is it you seek?” the demon inquired. You stepped forward. “I want to reforge the Promise.” The demon’s single eye gazed straight through you, as if you were nothing more than a sheet of paper held to the light. “Sure, (Y/n).”

You pursed your lips together. He was unnervingly calm, child-like even, and you had a feeling it had to do with his ‘reward’ after the promise.

“So what is it you seek?” questioned the demon. “You must give me a reward as well.”

Yes, that was the catch. But what could it be? This demon was a being higher than anyone in the land, a god that once split the world in two. He transcended time, yet remained relatively simple-minded and difficult to read.

“The reward,” the demon fiddled with an orb in his hands, “hmmm... It would have to be something important. Ambition. Desire. What someone longs for. What I would want is something important to the other party. Will you make a wish despite that?”

This was for more than your family and Norman. You had people relying on this one choice, this one Promise.

“Yes, I will make a wish despite that.”

It all meant more than the world to you. You had to liberate your family, the children who were raised like livestock and mass-produced like wild animals. And the mamas who fought to survive--you had to think about them too.

“I wish for all the cattle children to cross over...”

They didn’t choose that life of suffering. None of you did.

“And after that, for it to be completely impossible to pass between the two worlds.”

The demon continued to stare. You stood strong and proud with the weight of all humans in this Neverland on your shoulders. If he granted your wish, then the tide would turn and you’d be able to save everyone and everything.

“I will grant that wish,” he said. “And the reward I want are your---”

----

“Memories?” The words fell from your lips in a hasty breath. More than anything, you valued finding them. It was the only missing piece in your heart. The last portion of the unsolved mystery.

This boy--whoever he was--talked about you like he knew you. Held you like you meant something. Said that name, (Y/n), like it were his life line. He pulled away with a sniffle, settling his hands on your shoulders with a loving touch.

“You don’t remember me.” He lifted a hand and raised it to place on your cheek. But he couldn’t touch you like he used to. Not when you looked at him like he was far away and out of your reach.

“You don’t remember me.” the boy quietly repeated. He began to pull away, but you grasped his hand in yours. It was warm, soft. “No, I...I’ve seen you before.” There was a pained look on the boy’s face, as if he thought you were lying to him.

“Haven’t we been through this before (Y/n)?”

No, said your mind. Yes, said your heart.

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself.”

Your grip tightened around his hand, but not enough to hurt him. “I...I do know you. You’re...” You shouldn’t lie to yourself. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. But you did know this boy, and all this time, you yearned to see him.

Remember.

Who was he to you?

Who were you to him?

Remember.

Remember!

“I can’t remember your name,” your eyes welled up with cold tears, “but I know I’ve missed you all this time.” You pulled his hand to your cheek as he brought you close. The scent of parchment, aged books, and the woods. Yes, that was nostalgic, so much that it felt right. The final piece, fragmented and broken, began connecting again. It brought the dots and the gaps you tried so hard to fill together.

But something else was still missing.

The boy pulled your head to the crook of his neck and rocked you from side to side in the moonlight. Even the hazy streetlights were drowned out by the stars. You liked to think it was because this part of the city was quiet, isolated, from the rest of the world. And the rest of your worries.

“Norman.” he said.

You looked up at him.

“My name is Norman.”

“And mine is...(Y/n)?”

“Yes,” he said with a bittersweet smile. “I think the day I fell in love with you was when you got excited about something Ray told you. Ray is our family if you’re wondering, and so is Emma, and Gilda, Don...” He told you about people you once knew, and the life you once lived. Some parts he left out, and others he kept.

But you wouldn’t have known. Not when your memory laid in fragments.

“...And so we looked for you. I didn’t think you’d be here, but I’m glad you were.” He laid his chin on the top of your head. “You used to joke that I’d never be taller than you, but now I am.” A sad chuckle left his lips. “I wish things could be different and that you--”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a flash of red hair. Your head began to pound and you nuzzled closer into Norman.

“What’s wrong?”

“My head hurts.”

He ran a hand through your locks, arms folded close around you as he hummed a sweet tune. It was sad, melancholy, and the only one you’d ever known your whole life. “I know that song.” you mumbled. Norman smiled softly. “Mama used to sing it to us all the time. When Ray had nightmares, she put him to sleep with this song.”

The pounding in your head increased and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I did too. I sang...to you.” Norman’s lips parted, but he settled on a nod and smiled instead. “You remember?”

“I think so.” The memory was hazy, as if someone were trying to make you forget for good. But you fought that urge, held on to the image of a room with white sheets and bed lined up side by side. “You were...talking to me...about a...I don’t know...”

“Go on.”

“You were crying late at night...so I...I sang to you.”

Norman kissed the top of your head. When he was in Lambda, locking in that room all alone running through test after test, he held fast to that memory. It kept him from giving up on what he fought for, and kicking the bucket for good.

“I missed you so much.” he wistfully whispered. “You can’t leave me again, or else you’ll break my heart for good.” You looked up to meet his watery eyes. “Why would I leave?” Norman shook his head. “It was in the Promise, wasn’t it? You can’t break it.”

The pounding began to fade. You tiredly smiled, but it was warm and thankful and happy. “That won’t stop me, Norman. I don’t think I could live without you.” He warmly chuckled, intertwining his hands with yours. “Me too.”

And it was then that you began to feel a little more complete, a little more you from then. You were sure you wouldn’t have to dream another little dream of your wodeerful Norman any longer, for he would be right by your side, where you both belonged.

You released his hands and cupped his cheek. It was a natural act you didn’t even have to think twice about. When you were you, you had done this more than a thousand times. Your lips connected in a sweet kiss. He tasted like coffee and tea rolled into one, and you had a feeling it was because he couldn’t choose which was better.

“I love you.” you said. He warmly smiled, but underneath, it was almost sly. “I love you too. Why don’t we do some catching up?”

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 12

Habit: Camgirl & Degrading

Hmm ok so I think it’s at this point that my writing style kinda changes a bit & I don’t like it as much as my old one, but I’m def gonna keep trying to improve it uwu

Quick warning for dub-con ahead!!

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated!

You think you‘re alone in the house

And it’s only when Habit walks into your room, halfway through your show, do you realize you‘re sorely, sorely mistaken

That sly, menacing grin on his lips paralyzes you in place

“Well, what do we have here, little rabbit?~”

He sounds ever so pleased at his discovery as he saunters into the room, and it’s only then that you manage to snap yourself out of it

“S-shit—!”

Eyes wide and face flushing a deep, dark red, you‘re a deer in headlights

But before you can scramble back and cover yourself, he snatches your ankles, forcing your legs apart so he can soak in the view of your exposed sex practically dripping in need

“What’s all this for, hm?” he drags the words out, practically purring

Your eyes flicker to the screen before you can stop yourself

He follows your gaze and, surely enough, he notices the cameras set up to face you, along with the streaming site you’re currently on

Everything inside you screams to cover yourself or find some way out of this, but he’s got you right where he wants you

If you could curl up into a ball and let the bed swallow you whole, you‘d let it happen

He chuckles, and the sound sends a spike of both fear and arousal rushing down your spine

“I didn’t know you were such a filthy girl, bunny”

The bed dips beneath his weight

He completely ignores your protests as you try to pull away from him

“H-habit, I can explain—”

“Oh, I don’t need an explanation” his lips curl into that sadistic grin again as he cuts you off, “I can see how much of a slut you really are. Go on then, don’t stop on my account”

He yanks you up so that you’re on full display to both him and the viewers, your legs split wide open so you’ve no way to hide the sopping mess between them

You’re trapped

There’s no way he’ll let you out of this unscathed, and you really, really don’t want to make a scene right now

So, despite the pounding in your chest and the adrenaline racing through your system, you swallow your pride and hesitantly trail your hands back down your body

Moving to your chest, your fingers graze your nipples before continuing down to the spot between your legs

You can’t find it in yourself to make eye contact with the entity, especially not as donations ping in from the chat

His attention turns briefly towards it, looking over the comments before returning his gaze to you

He snickers at how flustered you look

“C’mon, bun, don’t be shy~ Aren’t you supposed to give us a good show?~”

He runs his calloused fingers up your folds, gathering up your arousal in his hand and everything in your lower half clenches

His head tilts to the side and he repeats the motion, coaxing a quiet gasp from your lips before you can shove it down and quiet yourself

“You like knowing people get off looking at you play with yourself? Hm? Bet you like showing off, don’t you?”

He sinks his middle finger into your core and you choke back a whine at the feeling, your back arching and hips involuntarily wriggling for more

Almost painfully slowly, he fucks you on his finger, pulling an embarrassing amount of slick from your folds before adding another digit and stretching you out even further

“What a filthy slut. If I would’ve known you were so dirty, I would’ve fucked you a lot sooner” his voice is husky and gravelly and the sound alone has you squeezing around him

He chuckles

You wonder, very briefly, if your viewers are confused by the sudden guest appearance

But then he hits a certain spot that has you gasping, your legs jerking beneath him, and you realize you don’t care either way

“God, you like that, don’t you? You like everyone knowing how much of a slut you are?”

You make some indignant sound, resisting the urge to grip his broad shoulders and pull him in closer because you need him to fuck you right now

He hums, then his fingers disappear and he brings his pelvis against yours where you can feel his hard-on straining through his jeans as the coarse material rubs into your sex

“F-fuck”

You’re breathless, thoughts swimming, your fingers bundling up the sheets

But then a couple of donations ping in, and it has you flinching and looking away, the magic of the moment ruined by the cruel reminder

He grunts, gripping your face and squishing your cheeks to force you to look at the camera

“Look” he hisses, “Don’t try to hide from this, rabbit. They’re all here to see you be a filthy cockwhore. Surely, you won’t disappoint them now, will you?”

His hand moves to your neck and it makes it all the easier to use the leverage to grind into your slick, puffy folds

A hushed whimper slips from your parted lips, your head falling back, hands gripping at his wrist around your neck

“Look at you getting off to this, bunny~”

The warmth of his muscular form moves away momentarily as he undoes his pants with his free hand, tugging his thick member free and lining himself up to your entrance

But instead of pushing himself in like you admittedly want him to, he turns to the camera, and you don’t fail to notice his menacing grin revealing sharp teeth beneath

“If you fucking pervs wanna see this little slut take what she deserves, you better start paying up~”

Almost immediately, a huge wave of donations come through, one after the other, all of them coaxing him to take you—and take you hard

He snickers, turning back to you with a dangerous glint in his eyes

“See, rabbit? This is what they wanna see. You’re gonna take my cock like the good little fucktoy you are~”

He drags his length up and down your slit, watching you squirm and bite down your filthy pleas

Then all in one, strong thrust, he presses forwards and bottoms out until he’s balls deep inside you

Your back arches, moaning and cussing and whimpering, and when he squeezes your throat even harder, you gasp, your eyes fluttering close in concentration

“You’re just a sloppy set of holes for everyone’s entertainment, aren’t you?~”

He slowly pulls out, moving excruciatingly slowly as he pushes back in again, inch by inch

And it feels so fucking good being stretched out by him like this, the tip of his cock bumping against your cervix before nudging the nerve endings along your walls—you can’t even bring yourself to disagree with his filthy nothings

“How many wish they could fuck you like this? How many wish you were their good slut instead, hm?”

His voice is a low, gravelly timbre that has you trying to roll your hips up into him, borderline desperate for more

“H-habit, please—“ you whimper

But he only chuckles, still refusing to give you what you want

“You’re clenching so tightly, (y/n)~ Fucking whore, you’re enjoying this too much, aren’t you?~”

Your hands flutter up, gripping his well-defined forearms as he pushes in and out of you

“God—f-fuck!~”

The way his pelvis grinds into you almost has you forgetting about your audience

But then he pulls away without pushing back in, and you’re about to beg him for more before he tangles his hand into your hair and forces you around so that you’re facing the camera on your hands and knees

The swell of your tits is on perfect display while he has unrestricted access to the curvy flesh of your ass

“I think they need a better view of that pretty little face~”

He sheathes himself inside you again, and this time, you don’t bother muffling your own sinful moans as your face contorts, mouth falling open in an “o” for everyone to see

Your head falls forwards as he sets his pace, but he’s quick to fist your hair and force you to look at the camera again

“You’re not looking away from this, bunny. I want everyone to see how good you take my dick and my dick alone. They could never make you moan like this, no matter how much of greedy little cockwhore you are”

He roughly snaps into you and it has you mewling loudly, your eyes rolling back as he starts moving faster and harder until he’s all but drilling into you

And it’s like pure bliss

Every pump of his cock brings you higher and higher, ecstasy filling your body until it’s all you can focus on

A hard smack to your ass has you clenching, and he chuckles, another wave of insults spilling from his sharp tongue as his palm meets your flesh again and again

You squeeze your eyes close to avoid the growing viewer count and their endless stream of donations and filthy encouragements, all trying to spur him on to get a good show

You fist the sheets, tits bouncing back and forth as he fucks you doggy, and it isn’t long before your back’s arching and your vision’s bursting with stars as one long, hard orgasm ripples through you

“Atta girl~ Cum for me, slut~”

You squeeze him so hard, tight walls trying to milk him for all he’s worth, that with a few more mouth-watering thrusts, he grunts and his cock twitches, spilling his entirety inside you

You flinch at the feeling, your muscles sore and your skin numb and absolutely raw

He ruts into you a few more times, giving a couple few final smacks to your ass, and then he’s pulling out, letting his seed leak from your abused cunt

You almost feel pathetic looking at all of the donations and comments and the sheer amount of viewers

“Be a good girl and clean this mess up, little rabbit—I have an important job for you“

It’s all he says, as though he didn’t just fuck your brains out in front of the internet, before zipping himself back up and leaving you alone in front of everyone watching

#habit #habit x reader smut #habit x reader #emh habit #everymanhybrid #everymanhybrid habit #kinktober #creepypasta kinktober

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

fate matrix

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #05 (free) - fate ]

[ alphinaud/wol & cameos and mentions of some friend ocs, you’re gonna have to read to find out who :) ] ★ [ 5,241 words (oof) ] ★ [ fate matrix au ]

fate: be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way

in a world where the hands of destiny are ones and zeros, at the center of the matrix was a little goddess who would soon find out that she too, isn’t immune to the pull of fate

Day ???? | 07:07am | Day of Destined Meetings

An alarm rings, beeping in an increasingly loud volume as the monitors begin booting up. As light from the screens flood the room, the sound of cotton ruffling can be heard, followed by a soft little yawn.

The girl stirs, clutching at her duvet for warmth before her eyelids flutter open. Bright violet eyes stare up at the ceiling, where the patches of glow up star stickers have lost their radiance in the midst of the fluorescent bulb lighting up. Blinded momentarily, she grimaces, before rolling onto her side and sitting up.

“Good morning, alpha.” A melodic voice chirps out merrily from her parted lips, and she raises a hand to pet the head of the stuffed chocobo that she had been laying beside. “It’s time for work again, huh?”

Stretching her arms high above her head with a final, long yawn, the girl shuffles over to the minibar that was tucked under the table, pulling the door open before grabbing a small tub of yoghurt and peeling it open to peer inside curiously.

Oh, it’s strawberry today, how wonderful! Whoever or whatever magical force is behind stocking up the minibar seems to be in her favor this morning.

Grateful now for her breakfast, the girl slides over to the front of the bed, and places her hand on the mouse after taking a spoonful of the yoghurt into her mouth.

System booting... Please enter password. >illyaskawi03112 Log in successful. Fatematrix.exe starting. Welcome, Alice.

The monitors that surround her begin loading up window tabs after window tabs - and at the center on her main monitor, a sizeable grid of glowing icons pop up, along with a smaller, more discreet window showing a map tucked away at the corner of the screen.

Visual stimuli overload aside, the girl seemed to be completely unphased as she bites into yet another scoopful of yoghurt before setting the tub next to her white keyboard, as if this were a scene she’s had to see countless times now.

It’s a routine, a well rehearsed routine that the girl effortlessly goes through the motions of daily. The fate matrix is ever in need of use and she, the center of it all, was more than happy to take control.

That is, after all, the will of her late mother... the previous Alice and goddess of the fate matrix. It is simply her duty to carry on in her legacy. And as per her duty, she begins to spin the wheel of fate, clicking on the very first icon that boots up the fate matrix’s tool assistant. A bright blue pop up appears that the girl drags to the side, and text begins to appear.

Good morning, Alice. Today is a day of destined meetings. I would suggest working on getting soul mates together for the day.

Internally, Illya is delighted. Soul mates were one of her favorite types of work to focus on... and though they were rarely ever more urgent than other types of assignments like accident prevention, weather management or economic balance, it was one that often brought her a great amount of joy.

After all, what was sweeter than nudging two souls who were meant for each other closer? It was the very concept of soul mates, and the tales of the red thread of fate after all, that drew her mother into the concept of fate and caused her to develop the fate matrix.

A soft smile graces her features, and she moves her cursor to click on the second icon, which loads for a second before breaking apart into smaller, glowing dots that scatter across the map - with two dots that indicated soul mates being linked by a dotted line.

Time to get to work!

01:46pm

When Illya clicked on the glowing two red dots upon the map, she hadn’t expected to be shown live footage of the two targets in the very same room.

It’s not uncommon for soul mates to have already met each other, or even be familiar with one another already despite not having made their feelings for each other known yet... but they were cases that were, in Illya’s experience, a little more difficult to work on.

It was easy to nudge two strangers in the same direction or plant small, innocuous thoughts that would help draw two acquaintances into wanting to spend more time with their soul mate. It was far more difficult to convince stubborn people who have, despite many fateful circumstances, refused to confess their feelings to the object of their confession.

After all, the fate matrix was capable of many things - but controlling or taking over the will of people was not one of them.

Illya has convinced two stubborn souls to finally open up in the past though, she was certain she could do so again - she did so with the likes of the two childhood friends, Moth’ir and Thancred... a case which she would never in a million years soon forget... or the infuriatingly obstinate refusal of a pink haired miqo’te girl to confess to her close friend and personal trainer, Haurchefant Greystone... who had been more than obvious with his flirtations for years.

Alice, you have yet to eat your lunch. A quick break is highly suggested.

The tool assistant sends a reminder through a text in it’s window, which Illya is swift to ignore. She can eat once she’s done with this case.

She watched through the monitor as the pair sat on the couch, a girl with straight cut bangs and piercing red eyes lounging lazily with her back propped against the arm rest and her legs laid over her taller, lankier male friend, who seemed to be frustrated at the girl’s refusal to pay him any attention.

“Why invite me over if you’re just going to play your game?”

“Hmph! Says the guy who invited me over to his place only to kick me out halfway through because some of his friends were going to pay him a surprise visit!”

The man lets out a hefty sigh.

“I already apologized for that. And that was over a week ago. Are you seriously still-”

“Yes, yes I am!” Without even looking up from her smartphone, the girl lets out a dramatic huff while admonishing her friend. “I don’t get why you’re so adamant about me not meeting your friends. Why, are you scared they’ll misunderstand and think I’m your girlfriend?”

“That’s- That’s not-”

From the heartrate monitor, Illya can tell that was only part of the reason for his behavior. The true reason, and an explanation that the girl understood full well why he would refuse to tell his friend was written in text in a separate window next to his heartrate monitor.

The girl, Totomi Tomi, or better known by her stage name as Mint, was something of a minor celebrity on the internet. Known for her jovial personality and the many covers of vocaloid songs she posted on her well known eorzeatube page, it wouldn’t be a stretch to call her an idol - even if she wasn’t officially acknowledged or employed as one by some idol management company. Her friend, Estinien, and the object of her very strong feelings towards, had friends who were apparently fans of hers.

It was for that very reason that, for her protection and to spare her the oogling of strangers, that he’d kept his friendship with the young idol a secret from others.

In his eyes, perhaps dating her would be the quickest way to convince his friends to back off... but that would only come after they’d confessed their feelings - which they haven’t.

“That’s not important.” Estinien finally retorts after stumbling after his words for a moment, and Illya has to resist the urge to slam her head against the keyboard.

“Ohhhh... Kay.” Mint rolls her eyes, Illya mirrors the action.

What Illya doesn’t anticipate however, is Estinien’s next words, for as bold and uncharacteristic for an emotionally closed off man such as him.

“Why? Are you disappointed? You almost sound like you want to be known as my girlfriend.”

Mint chokes on her spit, sputtering and gurgling out incomprehensible words until she recovers - but only barely... and now with a dark red blush plastered over her freckled cheeks.

“I-In your dreams, maybe!” Her blatant lie is apparent to all but... the ones who are present in the room. “Besides, I already have someone I like!”

“Oh?” Illya can hear the sheer contempt from her headphones, and she grimaces at the man’s deep frown. “Do tell, who is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, dunderhead!”

“Tell me. I’m curious.”

“Nope nope nope nope nope noppetty nope! Why’d you think I would ever tell you, huh??”

Mint sticks her tongue out at the man, who scowls deeper and nudges the woman’s legs off of his lap.

“Fine. How about a bet then.”

“What bet?”

The man points to the phone she has in her hands.

“Since you’re so fond of your gacha games, and you’re always bragging about how good your luck is, why don’t we make a bet using your game?”

Snatching the phone out of Mint’s hand despite her protests, Estinien taps on the settings button before clicking on the gacha button, the screen switching to the current limited rate up banner of a popular event character.

“If you get a character of the highest rarity within 50 draws, you have to tell me who your crush is.”

“W-why would I even agree to that?? I’ve been saving my primos for Xi-Ao you know?!”

“I’ll pay for your pulls. It’s a win-win for you that way, no? You get free pulls from the game, I get to know who your crush is if you get a shiny new character.”

Mint pulls back, hesitant and suspicion clear in her eyes, but still enough to hint at consideration.

“And what’s in it for me? What if I do pull a 5 star character?”

After much consideration, Estinien responds once more.

“I’ll let you whale for whatever character you want next on my credit card. And I’ll cosplay with you at the next convention.”

At the condition of his loss set, Mint’s face lights up with pure elation, as she snatches her phone back from her friend with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Deal! You’re so going to lose, long bean! My luck in Genshin Impact’s second to none! I can’t wait to make you cosplay sailor moon!!”

An equally devious smile spreads across the face of Alice, whose hands are swift to pull up another window tab reserved specifically for video game and gambling luck.

She has always admittedly been favorable and gracious in giving out good draws to people who deserve it - the program she has running in the background is testament to that... And she has no doubt in her mind that the fate matrix has been generous in it’s givings to Mint, if her boastings are anything to go by.

Mint must thusly, be a good person.... and she deserves a fate more fulfilling than virtual characters on a screen.

The girl must truly feel confident in herself, as she hits the draw x10 button without a single hesitation.

Illya begins typing the code into the new window, and sympathy wells in her heart as she hears Mint huff in minor disappointment.

“Only one 4 star? Eh, it’s just a fluke, I have 40 more pulls and I’m close to soft pity too!”

“Good luck.” Estinien chuckles mockingly, and Mint lets out a growl before pressing on the draw x10 button again.

Nothing. The third ten pull is no better - with nothing but a single 4 star weapon to show for her efforts. Mint is evidently getting more nervous as her finger shakes, pressing down on the button that will decide her fate for the fourth time.

She was so certain she’d get a 5 star by now - she normally gets what she wants within the first thirsty pulls, and it’s a normal occurrence to even pull multiple 5 stars within the same roll... So... why?

Her 40th pull ends with two 4 star characters, a sight better than the ones before... a sign of Illya’s pity on her... but still not a condition for her win.

“Oh, someone’s getting nervous.” Estinien smirks, “You’re on your last pull away from telling me who you have a crush on.”

“H-hah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Mint exclaims, jabbing a finger at him. “The chances of getting a 5 star increases with each pull, so i’m almost a hundred percent certain I’ll get one this time!”

Mint’s heartrate monitor is going off the charts, and Illya has to intervene by lowering her vitals enough so she wouldn’t pass out from sheer nervousness. It does little to hide it from Estinien, however, who could only relish every second of Mint’s rapidly darkening blush as she finally taps on the draw x10 button one final time.

The shooting star across the screen flickers, before bursting into a shade of pink that has Mint leaning back with mouth agape, a mixture of sheer shock and terror on her expression.

Hopelessness is all she feels as she taps, taps and taps, and the roll summary page shows naught but a single Benny - the unluckiest character in the game, grinning widely at her.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I won.” Estinien sounds way too casual and smug, unaware of the monumentally immense amount of bad fortune that had just befallen his friends. “As per our deal, you’re going to have to tell me who your crush is.”

Illya feels sorry for her meddling, and she makes a mental note to herself to bless Mint’s future rolls with as many of the highest rarity characters she could possibly afford to give without breaking the laws of probability too much... but when Mint finally breaks out of her stutter and sets her phone down on her lap, hands grasping so tightly at the hem of her skirt that her knuckles turned white, the girl knew that she’d dealt the woman a hand far kinder than if she had not.

“I-It’s...... It’s you, okay?”

07:32pm

Alice it is time for dinner. The curry will get cold if you leave it out for too long.

Illya’s tendency to ignore the tool assistant in regards to her own wellbeing was concerning, but not an anomaly. In fact, it was far more rare for the text in the pop up to be spared more than a single second’s glance from her.

Whether it was reminders for her to eat, for her to sleep early, to hydrate or to stretch after hours hunched over her keyboard in front of glaringly bright monitors for a good whole of her day, the tool assistant’s well meaning messages would always go ignored.

It’s a natural part of it’s program, Illya tells herself, as she filters through lists of finished cases before moving on to pending ones. Much like the fate matrix, that ran on a code that was, in admittance, far more complex than even she could fully comprehend... the tool assistant ran on code. It was an artificial intelligence her mother had created during her last few months of life, something that, according to the note left in the hard drive of the fate matrix, would help Illya better slip into her role as adjudicator of fate.

She’d remembered when she first awoke in this room and on the bed, not having any recollection of how she’d even arrived in the first place. The momentary panic and confusion had been replaced with a sense of obligation... of duty and honor when she booted up the computer for the first time to be greeted with the words from the tool assistant - as well as a lengthy message from her late mother.

We who do not belong to the realm of mortals... we who possess the blood of fate. We bear the burden of watching over the world and making sure that it is a safer, happier, better place for everyone. Only you alone can take possession of the fate matrix in my stead, and I pray you’ll forgive me for not being able to say goodbye to you in person.

Family meant the world to Illya, it has ever been that way. She spent a good amount of her childhood in the company of her parents, with little understanding of the world beneath. She had no concept of the idea of fate, of how destiny was dealt... only that her mother had a significant role to play, and that her time with her family was soon to be cut short by a crippling, unkind illness that not even the fate matrix could undo.

Illya’s never tried stepping out of her room before. She has always assumed that it exists in some kind of void or overworld that overlooked the mortal realm. It mattered not, really... The only thing important was that mother had left this place behind, and wanted her only daughter to inherit her role as Alice.

It was with that responsibility in mind that drove Illya to stay seated in front of the monitors for as long as she has.

Time is no longer being a concept, the rising and falling of the sun no longer visible to her eyes aside from a arbitrary number on the clock that served more as a timer for how long she has left to work until exhaustion would consume her.

Do you not wonder what it’s like to have friends, Alice?

Recently, however the tool assistant has been sending her more and more pointless questions... questions that went far beyond the daily self-maintenance reminders that she could understand her mother programming in for her wellbeing, questions aimed to be poignant and was targeted to making her feel more isolated and alone than it did help. It was bordering on annoyance.

You could leave this room any time you wanted.

And why would she do that? She murmured to herself as she typed in code to program a heavy storm, forcing a raven haired lalafellin man to offer his umbrella to his soul mate who had been stranded under a lone busstop - a pink haired woman with olive green eyes who seemed utterly smitten with him upon first sight.

Her purpose was here, to take control of the fate matrix, to grant happy memories, to save lives, to fulfill wishes and dreams. There can be no greater and heavier responsibility to bear in the world.

Truthfully, the reason why Illya stayed at first had solely because of her mother’s wishes... But now, it was more than that.

Because the idea of separating herself from the fate matrix... and not being able to grant the kindness of fate that so many people in the world deserved... it was a pain that was worth her own sense of self.

Are you not lonely? Do you not want someone to love you?

Why did it matter if she was lonely? The envy and curiosity she feels upon watching a group of friends hanging out together is nothing in comparison to the pain mortals felt from a love unrequited, or a loved one losing their life.

She taps furiously on a historian with bright red hair and eyes, forcing him to get a wardrobe malfunction that would push him to visit a tailor where an impish lalafellin fashion designer with snow white freckles awaited him with choice words of ridicule. She tips over a telephone pole that causes two surf shop co-owners who were on a road trip to park by the roadside so that they may witness a falling star, wishes made leading to their confession. She painstakingly guides a woman with silver hair and golden yellow eyes towards a drycleaner, where she initiates easy banter with a man who she later finds out was her old schoolmate.

Juno and Ysayle, Bianca and Varis, Niqesse and Zenos, Nowi and June. She remembers the soul mates she pushes together by name, and treasures the happiness they are sure to feel from their memories as if they were her own.

Detached from their world she may be, it is through the fate matrix that she can experience a sliver of their joy and love... even if it is for a fleeting moment before she must move on to the next.

11:17pm

One more assignment, she tells herself, eyes bloodshot and fingers sore from typing. One more case and she’ll eat before going to bed. She has done much for the day as it is... but she cannot rest until she’s closed one particular case that has her vexed for the entire day.

A pair of glowing purple dots that has been plastered on the map since morning has her thoroughly vexed... because for some reason or another, she cannot seem to gather information on one half of the pair.

She’s able to view the other half just fine - a dashing young man who seemed to be a senior in university despite his age, having skipped two grades due to his academic prowess. He is incredibly gifted, possessing not only of superior intellect but also an artistic hand and charismatic demeanor that makes him quite popular at his school.

But no matter how much she clicked on the other purple dot, or made futile attempts to manually search for data on his other half, nothing would show up. No windows, no tabs... What was even more perplexing was that the dot hadn’t moved on the map at all.

Illya had paid especially close attention to the purple dots ever since she’d found this anomaly in the fate matrix... she was certain she would have noted movement if there had been any at all.

But whereas the icon of the boy had understandably been moving throughout the city of Sharlayan, the icon of his mysterious other half hadn’t, laying stagnant on a singular point of the map in the middle of what appeared to be an old apartment complex.

It was as if his soul mate just... didn’t exist at all.

The boy didn’t have any romantic feelings for anyone, nor did it seem like there was anyone at his school that would have an attachment to him that extended beyond admiration or a short-term attraction, which she’s long learned to tell apart from genuine love. If the tool assistant had a text saying that her target simply did not have a soul mate at all, she’d have been inclined to believe it.

But the other purple dot that connected to his does not lie. If he didn’t have a soul mate, his icon wouldn’t be connected to the other. Her tool assistant wouldn’t have told her, very deliberately she may add, that he did in fact have a soul mate and that it was imperative for her to unite them.

But how was she to make two people meet when she could not even tell who the other was? It was the first time Illya’s wondered if there was even any point to her efforts.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, then. It may be unnatural for a piece of note to fall from the sky, but it was perhaps her final chance to get the boy to meet his soul mate before the opportunity would be lost forever.

Assignments from her pending window are known to disappear all of a sudden, and soul mates who were attached and at their prime for a fated meeting for the moment often times disappear from the map entirely... a tragedy as a result to the slipping of time that the fate matrix cannot rectify... and she’d be damned if she let it happen to this case just because of a simple glitch.

The boy, Alphinaud Leveilleur, star student of the nation’s most prestigious academy, had been walking home from his late night seminars. His position was unnervingly close to where his soul mate is, and since she could not think of any way she could naturally nudge him in the direction of the apartment complex, she writes a note posing as his soul mate and drops it from the sky.

“W-what in the twelve?”

The boy catches it in mid-air, looking at the haphazardly scribbled words on the paper.

PLEASE HELP ME. I’M BEING HELD AGAINST MY WILL. I’M BEING TRAPPED AT _______________

She made the handwriting disorderly intentionally... just to sell the idea of a person being trapped better, of course. She’d even slathered on a small smudge of blood on the corner of the note to make it more convincing... and it seemed to have done the trick as the boy widens his navy blue eyes in alarm, head turned up in the direction of the apartment complex he stood next to.

Illya can tell he has his doubts, and she doesn’t blame him... It’s suspicious enough that the call for help would just so conveniently fall towards him as he was walking past... but he’s never known any criminal activity to have taken place in that apartment complex - Sharlayan is relatively safe compared to it’s neighbor, Mor Dhona.

A few simple thoughts however, might just do the trick into getting him to spring into action.

Injecting into his mind, Illya types out frantically into the text box for thought processing.

What if this is real? What if there really is someone in need of rescuing and I just walked by without helping them? What if they appeared on the news tomorrow? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. What if... what if this note really is fate?

She’s preying on his upright and morally upstanding character, she knows that... and it never feels good to take advantage of a objectively good person’s kindness... But her determination to grant him lifelong happiness wins as she watches through the live feed the as the boy clutches onto the note close to his chest and begins to run into the carpark of the apartment complex before heading inside.

Zooming into the map, she sees that her target is taking the lift up to the highest floor, his heartrate skyrocketing at an alarming pace as she panics for a moment and has to manually adjust it back down. He’s nervous... and she must admit that she is too.

When he leaves the lift, his footsteps are unsteady and hesitant... But a few more encouraging thoughts was enough to get him to push forward until he’s standing in front of a door - the only door on the last floor of the complex, as it would happen.

Illya tries to look into the room, but the window that pops up is but a single black screen that has her sighing. No matter. The fact that there even was a window in the first place is progress.

She’s gotten this far into leading him here... all he has to do is open the door where his other half is sure to be on the other side.

The boy tries to twist open the door knob, the metal rattlingly noisily in Illya’s headphones. But it doesn’t budge or give way.

Figures that it’d be locked. How is she supposed to lead him inside? She can’t ring the doorbell because, for as odd as it is, there is none... and she cannot pull up any information on his soul mate, let alone inject into thoughts into their head to open the door. It’s far too suspicious to drop the key to the door right in front of him.

With each second that passes, it seemed like the boy was letting his doubts begin to sway his decision to stay more and more... and Illya’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach when she sees the boy begin to step away from the door and reaching into his bag for his phone, a thought bubble popping up above him.

I should call the police, instead...

“No! You mustn’t!” Illya yells out by instinct.

“Huh???” the boy’s eyes widen once more, and to Illya’s utter confusion, he bolts forward and is now banging his fist against the door. “Hello?! Are you okay?! If you’re in there and you need help, please say something again!”

He must’ve heard a voice.... Illya mused, eyes glistening with intrigue... her voice. Did her mic turn on by accident? Or perhaps she’d projected her voice onto the door out of instinct. She wouldn’t be surprised if she did... but the most important thing is that it worked, and it got the boy to stay.

“Y-yes! I’m... I’m in here!” Illya responds, intentionally letting out sobs into her microphone this time, “p-please help me... I-I’m really hurt and I don’t know when they’ll get back!”

Alphinaud’s heartrate is beating faster than it’s ever had before... and Illya makes no attempts to lower it as she watches the boy grit his teeth and set his bookbag down.

“A-alright! Stand back! I’ll try to knock the door down!”

Good thinking, Illya hums to herself in silence. The door seems old and rickety on its own... unless his soul mate has very deliberately barricaded the inside, there shouldn’t be any reason why he’d not be able to knock it down.

The boy begins to slam his torso into the door, pulling himself back before once more rushing into the door, and the sound of banging fills Illya’s headphones. It’s oddly loud and deafening... but she makes no attempts to lower her volume as she grips the edge of her keyboard in anticipation.

“Don’t worry miss! Just a bit more! I’ll get you out, I promise!”

His sincerity touches her... and though it is wholly unnecessary, Illya is moved to speak into the mic once more... and her words causes a surge of renewed energy to flow through him.

“Yes! I believe in you! I’m waiting!”

Illya has never known what the outside of her room looked like... nor the time or space that occupied it. It was never necessary, she’d convinced herself... She was simply content with watching the outside world through the lens of the fate matrix while playing the ultimate puppet master.

She has never smelled the outside air, never seen the light of the sun, never once touched the hands of another... not since she arrived here.

When the door to her room clattered noisily onto the ground, so loudly that she could not chalk it up to being a result of the projection in her headphone, the girl spun around... and stared with wide, bewildered and confused eyes at the boy in front of her - clear without the pixels of the screen obscuring him... clear and oh so very real.

Beads of sweat trickling down his brows from exertion... his usually neat fitting uniform disheveled from strain...

And in his clear blue eyes was the reflection of herself, staring back at her as if they were a window to her future.

“Y-you.... you are....?”

The tool assistant of the fate matrix sends another text, which goes unread and ignored by Alice once again.

You watch over the fate of others. But even you aren’t immune to the hands of fate.

#ffxiv #final fantasxy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #lots of cameos and mentions of friends but i'm not gonna list em all out here kek #holy fuck this turned out longer than i expected #and i already had to cut down a lot of this fic!!!#Like... i planned to expand each friend ship into their own dedicated segment but #it got too detailed and bleh

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bentforkent · 4 years

Text

paint it over

spencer reid x female!reader

content warning: fluff, smut, the word “daddy” is said once as a joke, spanking, roughness, dom/sub undertones, !!!!!reader asks spencer to stop during sex!!!!, soft sex, soft spencer, arguing

word count: 2,251

in which spencer and his girlfriend go to a big, fancy party and irritate each other there.

spencer looks ravishing, to say the least. his velvet suit jacket hangs perfectly off of his shoulders, and the color of his tie highlights his honey eyes. he’s got his hair slicked back into a style you rarely see on him. it takes everything in you not to grab him and ruin him before you even get out of the door. but you know this event is important to him, some gala for the FBI employees. or something. you hadn’t really been listening, too focused on his lips when he had extended the invitation to you as his plus-one.

but yes, in the weeks leading up to the event, spencer has reminded you numerous times that it’s “a very important night” for the BAU and that you needed to be on your “best behavior.” he fretted frantically about your outfit more than he did his own. he made sure you had a full night of sleep the night before. he helped you shower and wash your hair before getting ready, but you’re convinced that part was just an elaborate ploy to get his rocks off. (if so, it was successful.)

the gala is held at some fancy hotel, and you instantly feel out of place upon arrival. you cling tightly to spencer’s arm in an attempt to feel grounded. he plants a firm kiss on the top of your head, leading you into the grandiose ballroom. your grip on him tightens. the venue is really big.

“y/n, lovey,” he starts gently, prying your hands from him, “go mingle. emily is right over there, she’d love to see you.” he points in her direction and your gaze follows his finger.

your voice is quiet when you answer. “can i stay with you a little longer?” how can he resist you when you’re looking up at him with big doe eyes and a small pout on your lips?

he smiles widely, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “of course you can stay with me, baby.”

as spencer flits around the party, you’re quick to follow. he’s talking to penelope? you’re there with bells on, one hand wrapped around a champagne flute and one hand on spencer’s shoulder. he’s talking to hotch? you keep a tethering hold on his left hand.

and you’re enjoying yourself. it’s easy to be with spencer. he’s sweet and smart, although both of these are understatements. you feel proud to be seen with him, proud to be his girl. but as the night progresses, you begin to notice him acting odd.

when you rest your hand on his shoulder, he shakes your hand away. when you’re hand-in-hand, he starts to pull from your grip instead of pressing a kiss on the back of your hand. he’s just being odd, suddenly averse to your touch and tense to an absurd degree. while you’re sitting engaged in a riveting conversation with rossi about his latest book, one hand on spencer’s bouncing knee, your boyfriend interrupts you. “y/n, would you go refill our drinks?” he asks.

“you haven’t even taken a sip of the one i went to get you 20 minutes ago,” you say, gesturing to his full cup. there’s a pregnant pause.

“would you excuse us?” spencer asks rossi. you flash the older man a polite smile, trying to ignore the frustration you can feel radiating off of your boyfriend as he leads you away from the conversation. “what is wrong with you?” he questions harshly, grip on your wrist tight as he leads you outside of the hotel ballroom and into the lobby.

“nothing!” you exclaim, yanking your arm from him.

he sighs and rubs his hands over his face, clearly exasperated with you and your behavior. “i told you this night was important.”

you frown, a deep set frown that affects your whole face. “i’m being good!”

“you’ve been hanging on me all night!”

there’s silence as you rock back and forth on your heels, trying to figure out what to say without sounding weak. “i get nervous at these events, spencer, you know that.” your voice is small, timid. you’re crushed by the implication that spencer would rather spend the rest of the night alone, especially when the sheer magnitude of this event alone is enough to make you anxious.

his face softens by a miniscule degree, but his voice is still firm. “i know, baby. but please, try and leave me alone for a little bit so i can have some business conversations.”

without answering him, you turn and stalk back inside.

-----------

he was sitting alone. perfect. another hour or so had passed, and you’d been pretty good at avoiding your boyfriend during that time. you seemed to float around the party, such a presence that no matter how much space spencer needed, his eyes followed you around anyways. you laughed with grandiosity, clinking champagne glasses with whomever you passed. you took campy photos with the women on spencer’s team, camera flash highlighting whatever funny face you all had decided on. you’d even held a captivating conversation with hotch, getting him to crack and hold a smile.

but despite your efforts to throw yourself into the party and subsequently away from spencer, you found yourself getting bored without him by your side to share the fun with you. a normal thought process would’ve prompted you to go sit and have a normal conversation with him in which you both normally apologized for your behavior earlier. but you were still beyond peeved about how he had snapped at you earlier, so all normalcy flew out of the window, and your champagne-powered brain resorted straight to revenge. which is why it was perfect that he was sitting alone, finally.

you skipped to him, and plopped yourself down on his lap. you were intentionally making a spectacle of yourself, knowing it would make spencer squirm to know people’s eyes were on him. “hi daddy,” you sing into his ear, and his hands tense on your thighs.

“what are you doing?”

you lean close to him, so close that to anyone else observing, it would appear that you simply have your head tucked in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck, not that you were whispering to him. “just wanted to come and tell you that i just took off my panties in the bathroom.” you take the lacy undergarment and tuck it into his jacket pocket smoothly.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers aggressively, the repetition of the question not lost on you. his lips graze the shell of your ear, and his hand grasps the back of your hair tightly.

“i just love you so much,” you say grinning. he’s angry, you can tell, but it’s more fun for you to pretend you don’t notice. you make no more attempt to quiet your voice as you continue. “and i’m just waiting to go home so i can suck you off.” morgan walks past you at the perfect moment and hoots at your words. you copy his noise in response to him. “see?” you turn to spencer, shit-eating grin on your face. “derek’s rooting for us to fuck tonight.”

spencer stands, yanking you into an upright position. “you’re drunk. we’re leaving.”

you turn and wiggle your eyebrows at derek, and he gives you a thumbs up as spencer drags you out of the ballroom.

----------

spencer lays yet another harsh smack on the curve on your ass, reveling in the whine you emit. his tie is shoved into your mouth, where it has been situated since you got in the car leaving the event. you’re bent over his knee on the edge of the bed, fully naked.

“get on your hands and knees,” spence says gruffly, and you oblige as quickly as possible with the welts on your ass aching. you hear a pretty unmistakable sound of pants dropping, and despite being faced away from him, you have a sense that his eyes are trained on you. your face is pressed into the mattress, and you find yourself wishing spencer would just fuck you and get it over with. wait, that’s not right. you should be 100 percent involved in and excited about this intimate moment.

spencer runs his hands along every inch of skin he can reach, positioning his cock at your entrance. he takes one hand and grips your hair, pulling your head back. the breath of air you get from being pulled so harshly wakes you up.

“wait! wait, spence, please stop,” you gasp loudly. his hands are off you immediately, afraid to hurt you, and you scramble from your position on all fours back onto your back. he cocks his eyebrow. you didn’t utter the safe word, so technically you’re breaking all sorts of rules right now, but you hope the urgency in your voice and your explanation would save you from punishment.

under his gaze, fully exposed and spread open, you start to get emotional, tearing up. “i know i was really bad tonight,” you mumble.

“speak up,” spencer says, voice calm. it’s an order, but not a harsh one.

“i know i was really bad tonight,” you repeat, rubbing at your eyes. “i know i’m the worst girl.” spencer frowns. “but i...i just want you to be nice to me now.” you sniffle. “i don’t deserve it, i know, but i just…i want nice spencer.”

spencer lays down on the bed next to you, face full of worry and concern. you look at him with tears threatening to spill over your lower lashline. “baby,” he scoops you up and pulls you close to him, all thoughts of sex pushed away for the time being. “you are not the worst girl, where are you getting that from?” you’re silent, so he continues. “if anything, i’m the bad guy for making you feel that way.” his eyes search your face, trying to get an idea of where your emotions are at. “i love you so much.” he emphasizes each word with a kiss.

shy all of a sudden, you hide your face in the crook of his neck as if you weren’t lying naked in front of him. the two of you lay there for a few moments, air thick with emotion and love. “you’re a good girl,” spencer whispers, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “do you want to stop?”

you shake your head no in response.

“i’m not going any further until i see your pretty eyes.”

you look up at him slowly, and crack a small smile. it’s hard not to. spencer is looking at you with endless amounts of adoration in his face, and although you had been upset just minutes earlier, you had never felt unsafe in his presence.

“please fuck me, doctor,” you whisper, and he grins.

spencer figures out a way to make your current position work, adjusting your body slightly. he lifts your leg and pushes his cock into you slowly, slower than usual. you moan, an extended high-pitched sound, and spencer groans in response.

“such a tight little cunt for me, baby,” he murmurs, beginning to thrust into you firmly. his words are filthy but his voice is soft. you whimper, trying to grab onto his back, but only succeeding in leaving tiny scratch marks.

he picks up the pace of his hips, his strokes long and quick. each time he bottoms out, it’s punctuated with one of his grunts. “you’re such a good girl for me, baby,” he says, words coming out rushed with the distraction of him chasing his orgasm. “you’re so soft,” he groans, “you take my cock so well, fuck,” his breathing becomes tighter.

you press your lips to his collarbone, letting your tongue poke out to taste his salty skin. “i love you,” you whine against him, and his hips stutter.

“say it again, baby, i’m so close,” he says, words cut off with a moan when you suck a tiny mark onto his jaw.

“i love you,” you whisper in his ear, and as your teeth graze his earlobe, his speedy thrusts slow and become sloppy. he cums with a loud moan of your name, and you whimper at the sound. your orgasm follows his quickly, the feeling of his warmth filling you enough to send you over the edge.

“hey,” he says as he pulls out of you and rolls out of bed.

“hm?”

“i love you too.”

“yeah?” you ask. spencer walks into the bathroom and spends some time there, cleaning himself up and preparing a washcloth for you.

“yeah,” he replies when he emerges, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a shirt you’re pretty sure was yours once. “and i’m sorry. i was a dick to you tonight.”

“yeah you were,” you say with a grin up at him. he pulls the warm washcloth along your legs and over your sensitive cunt gently, cleaning up any residual sex. at your words, he shoots you a pout. “but i’m okay now, promise.” he folds the washcloth into a tiny square, ever meticulous, and sets it on the nightstand.

after flopping down on the bed next to you, resuming his original spot, he brushes his thumb over the highest point of your cheekbone. “but,” he drags the word out, “you’re not invited to any more fancy events after your little stunt tonight. you stress me out.”

you press a firm kiss to his lips. “i think i deserve that,” you reply with a smile.

#this was originally posted on my old blog but it has found it's new home here #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubler fluff #my writing

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