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cometkenji · 9 days

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killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises.

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly.

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint.

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?”

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.”

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?”

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new.

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick.

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

–

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you.

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up.

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision.

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

–

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him.

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day.

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up.

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it.

“I can watch him.”

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you.

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day.

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless.

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from.

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back.

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.”

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless.

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.”

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

–

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it.

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in.

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine.

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal.

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you.

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.”

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure.

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?”

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.”

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself. You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road.

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much.

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm.

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

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tarjapearce · 3 months

Text

Bad Teachings (Pt. 17)

Older! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Sexual language, mild smut, masturbation, awkward situations, a bit of Miguel on Dad mode, Angst, depictions of nightmares, bonding time, emerging fears, relationship doubts, mild character background depiction, comfort towards the end.

Summary: The cracks in Miguel's past begin to widen.

A/N: Sorry in advance :'). (feedback much appreciated ❤️✨) I DO NOT AUTHORIZE my works to be translated or updated to other platforms without permission. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 ❤️

Chapter's song:

Let me show you.

Those words had forever marked your brain with Miguel's watermark forever, claiming almost every bit of you for himself.

Not only he showed you, but also taught you many things.

How to kiss, how to properly sleep in his chest, and how to address him from now on.

Amor.

He was your sunshine. You ray of hope, your light in the darkest days, your savior when everything had crumbled apart. The bandage and glue of your bleeding heart, your life teacher and now all yours.

And still, you couldn't help but feel like a total fool at lost on what to do. The relationship was a blank canvas awaiting to be painted with so many new emotions and experiences created by both, to create the Opus Magna of yourselves.

You held the brush, and Miguel guided you through the strokes. That kiss was the base from everything, the beginning of a beautiful work in progress.

Ever since you kissed, it was like adoration, devotion and commitment had entered your world, foreign words added to your life's dictionary. And as the ever good teacher he was, he made sure for you to understand each one of their concepts.

The first thing he had been teaching you was commitment. He committed to come home to you, to keep himself healthy, to make you smile in every chance he got, and also, a must, he was committed to give you a breathtaking kiss whenever you smiled. Which was often.

And it had only been a couple of days ever since you decided to take his invitation. There was no room for regret, no room for what ifs when you were experiencing first hand what was like to be his.

Hands on you, roaming every romantic line of your form with such care and gentleness it made every pore of your skin to sing in delight. A brief call during lunch break to check on you, to ask you what you wanted for dinner, and just to hear your voice really.

He gave a gentle rub on your feet, despite ending up a bit annoyed that you were a bit too ticklish, after you came home, exhausted from work, which in return you prepared his lunch and gave a massage on his scalp before he drifted off to sleep.

The way he held you while sleeping spoke volumes. He'd always end up being the big spoon, a lazy hand hanging on your supple hips, his arm underneath your head, bicep acting like your own pillow, perfect for accesibly cradling your head for your morning kiss. Your thigh would hook on his hip, and your arm would slide underneath whatever side he faced you with, doing your best to snuggle him closer.

He'd nuzzle your neck while stirring awake, peppering your face with small kisses on the side of your cheek. He'd squeeze and breath you in, as if receiving his daily dose of endorphins in those single actions alone, they rioted as you blinked the grogginess away and immediately graced his day with a sweet and bashful smile.

"Morning, mi niña."

You curled into his chest, and groaned happily, relishing in his warmth.

"Good morning, amor."

He nearly melted at your pet name, specially when he taught you how to pronounce it correctly. He'd ask you to repeat the word over and over, just to hear you calling him that.

"Gotta go run."

You groaned and curled on him like a tiny marsupial both hands around his neck, leg unabashedly ontop of his waist.

"Can I be selfish for today and ask you to stay in bed with me?"

His hands caressed your hair, twirling a strand of it in his hands, he smiled.

"You want me to stay?"

"Please? It's kinda cold outside and bed gets colder when you leave."

You murmured in sleepy breaths and Miguel chuckled.

"Sólo porque tú me lo pides." (Just cause you ask me to)

You hummed as his fingertips massaged your scalp in soft moves that had you melting, sending you back to sleep.

-----

After what it felt like forever, your day eventually started, He didn't go for a run, but welcomed your day with a hearty breakfast and a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

You talked, washed the dishes together, then you took a shower and prepared for work.

Although the campaign had been marching smoothly, there were some things that needed to be addressed as soon as possible so you could focus on your area. Deadlines were approaching, and you knew how persistent Julius could get.

Miguel joined you a couple of minutes later, coffee mug on hand, and a stack of papers and his usb on the other.

"Got the information you needed from the marketing area"

"You did?! My goodness, finally I'll get Julius out of my ass. Thank you." You pecked his lips as he gave you the memory card.

"Is he overbearing?" He put his glasses on, to then stack up the papers, a pencil nested in his hand, small and frail between his fingers.

Your eyes couldn't help but look at his hands. "Not really, he's just been stressed lately"

Roughed up, calloused, veins with a purple shade that nested under his cinnamon skin. A pair of limbs you loved feeling, specially when he held you at night or caressed your body.

He chuckled, "You're staring."

"'Course I am. You have the prettiest hands I've seen."

You slid yours in between his, tangling fingertips while you snapped a picture of them together. Unlike your photo with Simon, your hand wasn't just laying there, looking pretty. They held onto Miguel's, on each other's. His fingers enveloped yours tenderly.

" What should we caption this?"

"Caption?"

You nodded while giving the image some brief retouches and finishes.

"What about... Nosotros?"

"Noso-truhs?"

He smirked at your little mishap but nodded.

"What does that means?"

"Us."

Your heart leaped and your stomach did a pirouette. The implicit confirmation of your situationship finally came clear. You were together.

"I like it."

His touch lingered, his warmth was always inviting. To your surprise he took your hand and gave a kiss on the back of your palm.

When you met again after work, there wasn't an hour he didn't kiss your hands, showered your head with pecks or touched you. As much as you wanted to keep revelling in each other's sweet affections, work demanded your whole attention.

He got to scribble some numbers and do calculations, your eyes couldn't help but dart towards what he was working on. A hospital's logo in the upper corner, he flipped the page.

The document, the bill, to be more precise; seemed an old and regular thing he checked, as some folding lines were too marked on the worn paper. He even hummed, apparently satisfied as the numbers he was doing seemed to match in his scribbles.

You focused on the files on your screen, and connected his drive to your computer, files copying by default. You then searched for the reports he mentioned and sent them to Julius.

One more thing out of the way.

Silence was comfortable. You pulled the drive out and poured the file into a copy of the whole work itself, to your surprise, there was a video file that remained outside the archive.

"Didn't know they had done videos already", Miguel snapped his attention to you, heart pounding in slow motion as you made click on the icon.

"¡No, no, no, no, Espera! Don't-"

Shit

"What-" Your hand froze mid air, upon seeing the contents of the video. Eyes widening impossibly big, cheeks warming up to the point of reaching your ears. He tried to pause the reel, but the video player got stuck and locked when he ripped the trinket from the port.

"Shit..."

Your giggles turned into soft moanings as they filled in the space, while Miguel rubbed his face, a faint dash of pink in his ears.

Fuck...

Your hands fisted on your lap, the video played, your heart thrummed violently under your ribs, gaze unable to tear from the screen.

Is this how you looked back then?

Hips urgent, riding your own hand, mouth agape, totally drowning in the swirling sensations that made your hand to squeeze at your breast, panting and biting your lip. The video shut off right when you were about to come undone.

The footage stopped in an erotical frame of you. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, one hand toying with your taut nipple, pulling it softly as your other hand buried itself within the baby blue cotton panties that leeched off the silhouette of your hand as it got lost between your legs. A few loose strands of hair adorning your enraptured and wanton face. Heavenly pornographic, needy and way too pretty.

Screen blinked and a 404 error before it shut off and restarted.

"Gave you the... the wrong one, sorry." The urgency in his tone and his constant hair pulling had his anxiety shooting for the stars.

He put the usb on his side of the table and you swallowed. Trying to process what just happened

"Uh..."

"You weren't supposed to get that one"

"You've... kept that video this whole time?"

He studied your expression, revealing nothing but curiosity, surprise and embarrassment in tandem of a dash of smugness. In all honesty, you thought he had deleted it right away, turning it into a piece of lost media.

"Can't really blame me for such thing. Not when it was what started it all."

"I'm not. Just surprised you've kept it that long."

Plump lips stretched in a bashful smile, he wasn't one for consuming porn on a regular basis, and if he did, he'd look for the basics, but would always end up re-watching your piece. Nothing could really compare the need it created, the envy he drowned in for not being your hand in that moment.

Two years and a couple months of getting off to that video, the only tangible proof of your presence in his life before you vanished into thin air. He had gotten used to your attention. And now he had it completely, his lids drooped as he hovered over your sitting form. Caging you between his body and the couch.

"What else have you kept from me?"

"Besides that?"

He pecked your lips and you gave a soft bite on his bottom lip, nodding at his inquiry. It was true that it had taken you by surprise, but you couldn't help but feel flattered, it gave your confidence a boost to know he somehow had kept this memento.

"Some lovely pictures I took on my own."

"Oh?" You giggled as his lips kissed yours, hands planting on each side of your thighs. Some of his strands of hair mixing with yours ontop. "Show me."

"Gotta earn that, preciosa" He crooned over your lips.

Your eyes rolled and his kisses toured towards your neck, inhaling your lovely smell. One of his hands left a warm trail over your torso and tummy until it hovered above the junction of your inner thighs.

"How?" you husked in between nervous giggles, breath caught in your throat as his fingers dipped past the elastic band of your sweatpants and panties, but stopped, giving you a last look, searching for permission.

"I told you I'd show you, didn't I?" He smiled while staring, crooked upper row teeth biting at the bottom muscle for a second, "Let me."

And you nodded, granting him permission with a brief kiss.

Pupils went wide blown as the rough pad of his fingertips skimmed over the outer labia, cupping the flesh in a soft and gentle motion. Warm breath fanned over his neck and chin, shaky. His eyes closed as a low gutural growl rumbled in his chest upon feeling you.

His face hid in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your pulsating body.

"Brings me so much memories."

A coy laugh escaped your lips as he retrieved his hand back and pulled you up, With a movement he twirled you and pushed you towards the couch, making your digs to kneel in the cushioned surface as he pressed his frame behind yours, engulfing you.

Hands instinctively held on the couch's sturdy frame. Miguel nipped at your shoulder, his fangs grazing the junction of your nape and shoulders. One of his hands snaked underneath your shirt, taking a quick but proper feel of your breast, this made you titter.

"You laugh when you're nervous." he murmured while dipping his hands back inside your panties. One of your hands hovered above you, draping over his nape, this made him pick your shirt and put a piece of the hem on your mouth.

"Hold it."

A shiver electrified your spine, you bit your shirt as your breast were free, big and calloused hand immediately trapped one as the fingers of his other limb, dipped between your folds, caressing the hardening and throbbing bundle of nerves.

Your hips pressed against his, it earned you a kiss on your temple.

"Go on, my hand is yours"

With a gentle push of his hips, he swayed your body forwards, a shy gasp erupted from you as his fingers grazed your clit with a bit more of pressure. Your body sung with a strange yet familiar sensation.

How long had it been without any sort of sexual performance besides your own hands? Certainly alot. Miguel was the last one to bed you. And the only one your body obeyed.

Your eyes closed shut when his fingers played a deft tune with your wetness, ebbing you to move forward, without shame. His gaze studying your pleasured face as he tweaked one of your nipples.

With a deep breath, you sank your hips on his hand, taking a proper feel of his hand. Deliciously warm, rough and providing enough texture to send jolts through your spine.

"There she goes" he crooned while pressing two of his fingers tighter on your moving cunt. A soft and wet thwip

came as he prodded the outside of your hole. He teased enough to have your swaying motion increasing. The holding bite on your shirt long gone.

Heat pooled on his fingers as you rode his hand. Your phalanges held his arm in place. A groan flew out of your lips, and it was the perfect chance for him to kiss you, deeply and just the way you both liked it while slowly, pushing his two fingers inside you, drowning the whimper that had his chest rumble with a groan.

He poked in enough to have your slit teased, and aching for something bigger to take you, like you were meant to.

He knew you liked it rough. And as your crevice parted to exhale, he seized the chance to kiss you.

Hungrily, breathlessly and full of need. Like if your life depended on each other's lips. His fingers prodded deep enough to not make you feel uncomfortable, rather provoke you enough to have you sputtering sensual babbles and blown moans.

"Just like that, mi amor?" His voice dropped an octave lower, a bit of shakiness in it as he moved his hand faster, focused on the gentle yet speedy motions on your clit and nipples, your jaw slacked open .

"Mig-" You gasped upon feeling the tension coiling up in a tight knot, every pore of your body sung in need and delight. Awaiting to fall in the scrumptious abyss of pleasure you had been missing and lacking for so long, because adult life happened.

Chest rose up and down erratically, until your body went taut, finally melting in his arms with a sweet cry it had him smirking, satisfied and proud. He still got it.

"Miguel!" You gasped as the tidal waves of pleasure, drowned you, Consuming every rational thought, except for one. More. You wanted and needed more.

More of him, you wanted it all. How not when he turned your dazed head towards him, making you watch him lick his glistening fingers clean, relishing in your taste.

"Me encantas tanto" Another kiss and you tasted yourself in the process, before he let you ride your high in his arms. You panted and groaned with every spasm your walls did. His hard on pressed in the back of your rear, hips immediately bucking against his.

"Let me help too." You whined

"Are you sure, preciosa?"

"Yes" Voice raspy but sweet, pleading for him.

There was nothing holding you back from taking each other. You were together.

And God, you'd enjoy him like he was enjoying you and your mouth, his hands ready for the second round as he gathered your shirt up, with intention of removing it. However his phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting the possibilities with name Burrito Parker on the screen.

The growl he gave, made your clit throb.

"Este pendejo..." He grumbled and his nose flared angrily, he fetched his phone, still holding onto a breathless you. He pressed the green icon, answering the call. Irked and clearly upset at the cock blocking his best friend provided

"The hell you want? "

Your eyes widened at his tone, but his softened upon hearing Peter and his petition. He let you go with a quick peck and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. He hung up after a minute of speaking.

All the racing thoughts were sapped out your body, replacing them with some self awareness. Cheeks grew warmer at the creeping shame.

"Uhm, everything alright?"

"Yeah. Just Parker being inconvenient. Need to find some of his books."

"Right. Uh... Do you need help?"

No answer. Just him shuffling among his things.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later, a surge of anxiety ran through your body. Miguel was busy in his room, and the ringing turned urgent as it dinged a second and a third time.

"I'll get it!" You gave your clothes a quick fix to then open the door. To your surprise, none other than Mr. Parker stood in your doorframe, the cherry on top was him holding a little girl, lovely and fiery ginger curls ontop of her chubby head, blue eyes looking at you curiously. Just like her father.

"Mr. Parker, hi." You hoped the blood rush in your cheeks had toned down.

"Hey... You." He smiled nervously, while accommodating the diaper bag on his shoulder. Blowing up his cover of not remembering you properly, but in all honesty it was better that way. Things were awkward as they were. Besides, not that you expected him to remember you either.

His daughter waved to you, you smiled and waved back.

"Uh, is Miguel here? I told him I was in my way."

"Oh! Sorry. Yeah, come in."

You closed the door behind him and he remained on the dining room, glad he didn't ventured in the place you were riding Miguel's hand moments ago.

"Would you like some water, Mr. Parker?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

You didn't waste time and headed for the kitchen, served him a tall glass of water.

"¿Amor?" Miguel's voice rumbled from the room, heavy steps approached, "Who knocked-"

Miguel stopped upon seeing Peter, dressed up in a button shirt, pants and shoes. The typical to-go college teacher outfit, that seized him with a confused look between him and you. Trying to put two and two together. His eyes widened a bit upon it all clicking in his mind.

Miguel just deadpanned, a look Peter would translate into a 'You used your brain, congrats."

You got Peter his water, he quenched his thirst and held his girl close. Neither of you expected him to get here so quickly. Miguel specially.

"Did you find the books?" Peter asked as you witnessed the exchange between them. Mr. Parker handed his baby to Miguel, which the little girl seemed comfortable enough to the point of giving him an uneven toothy grin while trying to get a hold of his hair, followed by the diaper bag.

Miguel gave a couple of books that undoubtedly were the ones he used for his class back in college

"Sorry to ask you for this out of the sudden, MJ is in a meet and greet, and the nanny cancelled us last minute." Peter mumbled while double checking the insides of the bag. "Mayday just ate, she'll have her nap soon, make sure to not feed her avocados, they make her crap smellier. And-"

"Parker."

Peter rubbed his neck, exhaling, managing his own anxiety.

"Cálmate. It's just a couple of hours. Go to your lecture."

"Right. you're right. She'll be fine. I'll be back as soon as I finish. Call me or MJ if something happens or if she's too uncomfortable."

Peter gave Mayday a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good with Uncle Miguel, ok?"

Your old teacher left with the books before throwing you a polite smile. Leaving curiosity and confusion behind.

Mayday pointed to the door where Parker had just left.

"Your papa? He'll be back soon. Don't worry, I've got you, Calabacita." His lips arched into a soft yet knowing smile.

His fingers tickled Mayday's tummy, earning a squealing giggle from her. His hands fixed the spider hero themed beanie ontop of her head.

His eyes turned to you, standing on the spot, watching him with unbelieving and curious eyes. He smirked

"What? Never seen a baby before?"

Your lips pursed and your brows puckered softly. "Rude. But I have. Didn't know you were good with them, though, or that Mr. Parker could be quite... responsible."

Miguel just pressed his lips into a tightened expression, but Mayday's giggle had his attention back to her. Her feet kicked enough to make Miguel to put her on the floor, she immediately crawled enthusiastically towards you, but the bright colors of your drives sprawled on the floor diverted her attention towards the trinkets.

Yours and Miguel's alarms flared when she approached them. Miguel quickly picked her up, earning another squealing giggle from her while trying to get a hold of the tech junk.

"I kinda can see it, though..." You mumbled in between a stifled laugh.

"What?"

"She's definitely Mr. Parker's daughter."

Miguel hissed as Mayday, pulled some strands of his hair while climbing ontop of his shoulders. "No me digas. Ow, Mayday, Espérate-" (No shit. Hold on)

His hands tried to grab her only for thw toddler to roll on and fall on his hands.

"Oh my god!" You gasped as he caught her flawlessly. Heart pounding so hard it got him tittering at your panicked reaction.

"Tranquila, she loves trust falling."

"Isn't that dangerous?!"

Miguel beckoned you closer as he cradled Mayday on his arms, an excited beam on the baby's face.

"Hold her for a minute, Need to get the bed done so she can sleep her nap properly."

"What? No, I haven't held a baby ever since I was twelve!"

"It's not rocket science, mi amor. Just make sure to hold her head and support her spine."

"But-"

Miguel shushed as he put Mayday gently on your arms, rearranging your limbs in a secure way to hold her accordingly. Her head rested in your palm, as you supported her spine by holding the rest carefully in your arms.

"See? Now you know."

He disappeared for a moment, the shuffling in his bed echoed through the room, as you stared at Mayday. She definitely had Peter's eyes and behavior, the hair definitely belonged to her mother. It was incredible how time passed by.

Seeing Mr. Parker was quite the surprise, he only looked a bit more roughed up, but was the same gentle soul he met back in your student days. And now you were holding his baby in your arms.

Miguel's head peeked out from the hall, watching you with amusement and fondness. It was clear you didn't know your way around children like he did. And still, you did your best, even though you looked like you'd beat Mayday in a staring contest.

Big and blue round eyes stared at you, tiny hands taking a feel of your already warming face while keeping a gentle hold on her. Exactly like Miguel had left you.

"Hey." You mumbled and Mayday cooed, limbs already on your hair, taking a good feel of your strand's texture.

And that was precisely why Peter asked him to look after Mayday, a little exchange of favours as Peter looked after Gabi back at the hospital when there was an urgent meeting with the lab directors in charge of Gabriella's case. In dire need of good news.

Miguel had been genuinely happy for Peter when he somehow confessed he was also being a father. The latter was mindful of his loss, but Miguel was the only one Peter trusted in at the time.

Your lover retrieved Mayday and accommodated her in his chest, rubbing her back gently in small circles as air flew out of her mouth in the shape of burps and yawns.

"How old is she?" You picked up the diaper bag as Miguel walked back to his room, rocking the baby girl to sleep.

"Two and a half. There's a small plush in the bag. Get it for me, please."

You unzipped said thing open and there was a small plush animal in it. A pig dressed in a Spiderman suit. It was handed to Mayday, which cuddled with it immediately.

"You know her very well."

"I've been her godfather ever since she turned six months."

You sat on the bed's edge, looking at the small nest he had made, a pillow on each side a space he'd put Mayday in.

He was a natural when it came to handle kids, no wonder why teaching came so in handy with this behavior. It also made you wonder about the kid's brush, and other items you had definitely seen but now were gone. What he had done with them? More importantly, what had happened?

But of course, those answers weren't for you yet, despite reaching a whole new level in your relationship. Talking about children was out of the equation, yet there he was, being a temporary father figure to a little girl that needed him. And he delivered, tenfold.

Making your curiosity even harder to keep under the leash. You left the room, letting him to do what he did best, you had no business in there. If anything you were only doing a moral support and watching how to tame a mini human.

Sitting before your computer, you organized a bunch of loose papers sprawled on the table, but your mind was too alive and taking even more consciousness to try and focus on your work. Instead it focused on Miguel and this newly found side of him you had the privilege to witness in it's full glory.

He seemed relaxed, like if parenting was another type of breathing, happy even.

Your guts churned with an emerging question.

What if he wants a family in a future?

You swallowed hard as a bubbling wave of anxiety made your brain juggle with so many questions as time ticked on.

Would he want you the same if a family wasn't in your plans? What if he didn't? What if he found someone else that did? What if-

"Mi niña?"

Your heart nearly busted out of your chest, you blinked the brewing tears away, clearing your throat as you poured your regained focus on your work after what it felt like forever.

"Yeah?" He arched a bushy eyebrow

"What do you mean, yeah? It's, yes, amor?, for you."

You chuckled, almost imperceptibly and this made him frown now.

"Is Mayday asleep?"

He hummed as he sat next to you, his frame swallowing the space right away. It brought you back when you were at your apartment, and he was assembling the shelf while apologizing.

"She gets sleepy easily. Taught that trick to Parker."

"I see..." You mumbled barely a whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong?"

Miguel reached for one of your hands and squeezed it between his. His elbow rested on his knee.

"To starters, you're not looking at me, something you do when you're conflicted. Secondly, your nose," He poked it softly, "is getting red, meaning you were about to cry, which leads me to think, something must've affected you since you were over thinking." He chuckled.

"You get this... gone look when doing it. And finally, your screen is still locked and you took my share of papers, mi niña."

You groaned while resting your head on his bicep, he kissed your temple.

"Well, you said it. I'm conflicted and over thinking."

"About?"

"I'm not that sure if I can approach this... topic since you said it was out of question."

Miguel just squeezed a bit tighter your hand, and sighed. His other hand removing a stray strand of hair out of your face. Mahogany eyes quizzical and cunning.

"Well, I guess it all will depend on what you're asking."

"No" You blinked, "No. If it makes you uncomfortable even in the slightest, I won't bring it up."

"Took me a while to learn this the bad way, but, awkward talks are part of any relationship and you're clearly upset. If I can, I will fix it. And if it's a too personal question, I will tell you, alright?. Now spit it out before I make you."

He nipped at the tip of your earlobe, earning a bashful giggle from you.

"Okay, okay!" You sighed, nerves eased a level down, and you took his hand while his keen gaze took you in, "Seeing you with that baby made me think..."

His face fell before your pause, and you swallowed, "Would... Would you still want me if... I don't want children?"

His eyes rounded a chip wider as his mouth pursed. "What?"

"You looked... Happy when having Mayday in your arms. I hope it's not a problem or..." You frowned upon seeing his tense reaction, "Sorry... God I'm so dumb. I'm so so sorry."

Hands immediately let his go, to cover your face.

"Hey." He pried your hands away and his heart sunk upon watching you all glossy eyed. "Mírame."

You shook your head.

"Mi amor." His tone as usual, gentle but firm. His thumb and index finger took a hold of your chin to look at him.

"You told me this before, remember? You don't need to explain your reasons to me. You don't owe me anything of that." His thumb moved to wipe away the tears that menaced to escape.

That's the least of things I think about.If honest?... I've..." His Adam's apple, bobbed nervously, unsure of unlocking even superficially that chapter of his life he always skipped and tried to bury, but even so, his shoulders slumped, almost defeated, "Parenting is not for everyone. It's hard and... painful."

You frowned upon feeling his hand squeezing you tighter, as if seeking to ground himself.

"Great... Now I've made you upset because of my-"

"Stop, mi amor" he warned gently, "This... your fear, will not change anything, ok?"

"Promise? I know... it's too soon to be discussing this, and I'm sorry if-"

"God, you do apologize too much. Come here."

He silenced your fears with a sincerity tasting kiss. There wasn't any hidden words or meanings behind what he said, his eyes didn't lie too.

"The only thing you need to worry about is hiding my marks once Peter returns for Mayday"

----

The sterile stench he learned to hate took Miguel by the throat, the beeping machines that dictated a steady pulse echoed louder the more he ventured in the white walls of his second home.

He knew them by heart, but for unknown reasons he kept turning in the apparently wrong direction, and ended up in the beginning of the maze.

No, no, no! Go right again!

His heart pumped almost painfully, his breathings laboured as he now sprinted, through the narrow halls that thinned the more he tried to run, as if they were preventing him to reach the end.

The machine's beeping turned erratic the more he approached, like his breathings.

"Papa?"

He swallowed hard, fist tightened on his sides for a minute, eyes impossibly wide as the door he knew the spots and details of, opened on it's own.

"Papa! Help me!"

The echo of his heart pulsed through his body, making it tremble as his lungs clenched, hindering his attempt to properly breath.

How?

His throat tightened in a knot. The urge to scream and beg only increased tenfold as he saw the ever familiar staff rushing in his little girl's room.

Gabriella

It was like if one hand, then another one grabbed him, held him back, He thrashed, but the more he fought, the more he was held back. Bound to watch his biggest failure as a scientist and father, play on repeat and 4K resolution.

"Papa!"

Her voice called, demanding for his presence in her thinning existence. But he refused to be an spectator, not this time. He'd do things differently, he had to.

"No! It hurts! Papa!"

Bile rose up his throat upon hearing Gabriella's pleas and cries, she had grown terrified of needles. He had to fight, against the weakening beepings, against the million of hands that held him back, against a diagnose that was now poisoning the little hopes he had left.

He tried, with every fiber of his being, to step forward, but unseen forces retained him, a gravel like voice growled behind him

"No"

He looked behind his shoulder, eyes injected with despair and terror. Bloodshot and crimson eyes stared back at him, his own silhouette hovered over him, like an overgrown shadow, towering over him, menacingly and preventing him to go further.

SHE NEEDS ME!

Miguel begged.

The bleary-eyed scientist, gasped for air, agonizing, grovelling to the door, ignoring the hands that dragged, scratched and pulled his hair back, doing their best to stop him

Please...

The constant pulse in the machine had weakened to the point of giving a wobbly beep every five seconds. His time was wearing off.

"No! Papi! No me dejes!" (Papa don't leave me)

Stop! Please!

The tears rolled, they still worked, Miguel believed them long dry and gone. His jaw clenched, despair gnawing at it's berated mind.

You're useless, O'Hara

The shadow spoke, as the beepings stopped. A deafening and dull monotone sound echoed through.

His eyes could only watch, unbelieving, glossy, shaky the previous doctors abandoning the room, a solemn look in their faces. Like the same day they found out what was wrong with his beloved Solecito's health.

Gabriella!

He cried, begged to enter that room, he'd give everything in his hands to bring her back, to see her one more time, to tell her how sorry he was. But none of that mattered, not when the forces released him, but focused in tearing apart the reality he was set in.

Each tear made his heart clench and race, he was too late when reaching for the door as he fell in the darkness' abyss.

He jerked awake with a doleful beat on his heart, erratic breaths polluted his lungs as his cheeks were soaked. Sweat etched in every pore of himself. Mouth soured and ashy tasting, swallowing hurted, his hair stuck to his face, hands were clammy.

The sterile stench still remained on his nose, like the steps when the doctors rushed in. He rubbed his face in a feeble attempt to wash away the fear

Another nightmare. He forced a deep exhale as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Nausea assaulting his stomach.

"Miguel?"

A hand on his lower back made his perturbed eyes to snap at the person before him. You. Sweet voice that grounded his rampant instability almost right away.

Concern etched in every muscle of your countenance, your hand warm, soothing. Not really caring for the sweat staining his back. Heart sinking upon watching him so distraught and frightened.

His hand traced your features, afraid that you'd slip out too. His breath hitched

"No te vayas..." (Don't go.)

You didn't have to understand that bit of spanish to understand his plea. In return, you cupped his face softly, and he nuzzled his face on your hands, relishing in the contact.

"I'm not going anywhere, Miguel."

You mumbled while combing carefully the unruly and soaked strands off his face, as they took shape in the way he always styled it.

His hands took a proper feel of you, too afraid that it was all part of the assailant nightmare. But you were there, flesh and bones, calling him to surrender into your comfort as you hugged him and cradled his head against your chest.

You're not alone anymore

"Mi amor." you mumbled and he clung to you. Leaning all his weight on your frame, even though he was hefty, you remained strong, for him. You anchored him.

"Do you want me to prepare you a cup of coffee?"

He shook his head, unable to utter properly a word. Throat too constricted and hurting to speak.

"Want to lay down?"

He didn't know what to do or reply. These episodes were usually spent alone, leaving none but himself to deal with his own fucked up psyche's aftermath.

He either stayed up until his alarm went off, or in the worst case scenario he'd knock himself out with sleeping pills or mezcal. Ruining his sober count days progress.

He heaved a deep exhale, as you enveloped him with your body, cradling him closer to you. He complied and rested his head on your chest, listening to the lullaby of your heart. Steady, grounding and very much alive.

You kept running your fingers through the drenched silky strands, easing the tension off his shoulders, and hopefully his mind too.

Peter had come for Mayday a couple of hours later, in the meantime you had to keep her busy and distracted from crying.

You had learned how to prepare a bottle, change a diaper and be more accessible to her, even play with Mayday. It was exhausting. But fun, Miguel had fun.

But now, you weren't that sure if it all had been a facade. His tossing and sleepy mumbles had awakened you, he seemed so distraught and fraught even in his sleep that made you wonder what kind of burden was eating his consciousness away.

There was remorse and pain, that seemed older than his own living years. That only made your heart sunk deeper, aching for him.

"You know you can speak to me, right?"

His eyes closed, giving himself a break from his surroundings.

"I know." He rasped.

"Whenever you're ready, that is."

He hoarded you in his arms and sighed.

He wanted to spill it all out to you, but it hurt too much. Still did, despite ten years passing in between, the wound was too fresh and his mind didn't cooperate with his attempts to make himself right.

But one thing was sure, he was no longer alone. He wasn't much a believer for coincidences, but you had came in a right moment in his life as dark times approached, his guardian angel.

You never judged him, he never felt pointed at whenever you were there. He felt at peace, and what other proof he needed when you gave him space to process everything? You didn't pressure him, but Miguel knew sooner or later he'd have to come completely bare to you.

But this time the thought didn't terrify him. Hopefulness nested within his chest. Slowly he drifted off too sleep, allowing for once, for someone else to watch over him in his sleep.

You draped the sheets over him, despite him being doused in sweat, the weather's cold mood didn't wane. Then kissed his forehead.

He wasn't alone. And you were set into proving him said words. Hopefully one day he'd be ready to explain your biggest concern and doubt.

Who was Gabriella?

------

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princessanonymous · 3 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

17. 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽

From that moment on, (Y/n) clung to the new arrivant. While Dorian was relieved to know his partner had gotten over his initial dislike for the girl, he wondered what had been the catalyst for this change. The other day, the child had another nightmare. In the middle of the day, she had entered their room and made a beeline for Killian's coffin. The dark haired vampire had comforted her, while Dorian had smiled at the sight fondly. He preferred not to dwell too much on the cause of this positive outcome ; it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they said. Everything was good; everyone was in their place. It was almost perfect.

The girl would turn twelve in two weeks and the next blood moon would be a week after that. He knew Killian probably still planned to leave, but Dorian knew the other vampire well. His dear companion was so predictable. His compassion would make him stay. For their girl. He wouldn’t leave her. The blond just had to find a way to make him stay until the girl's turning.

He gazed out one of the study's windows and observed the silhouette riding on a horse outside in the night. He smiled, resting his chin on his hand as he followed Killian's path with his eyes. The dark haired vampire had always been one for the outdoors, even as a human. He had fascinated Dorian, and still did to this day. He could still vividly remember their first meeting, a memory that would never leave him.

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

Humans, Dorian found, were quite interesting beings; they had this way of living — always in motion — that baffled him. Despite the specter of impermanence hanging over them, humans embraced life with a tenacity that Dorian found intriguing. They indulged in pleasures, sought out joys, and painted their existence with vibrant hues of experiences. It was a paradox that resonated with him on a profound level — the knowledge of an eventual end, yet an unwavering commitment to savoring every fleeting moment. It made him wonder if he had acted the same way once.

There was a time, one or two forevers ago, when he too had been part of this vibrant dance of life. He had been human, a mere mortal swept up in the currents of time. He didn't remember much of his time as a human; his turning had erased most of his memories. Disappeared in an ember, a burned tableau turned to ashes dissolving in the wind of eternal change, leaving behind a void where his mortal past once thrived. He had started anew as a blank canvas; his own sire abandoning him carelessly only days following his turning.

"Tell me more about yourself, Monsieur de Beauvoir," a voice pierced through his contemplations, and he turned to regard the lady who had initiated the inquiry. Despite his charming smile, her name had already slipped through the crevices of his recollection.

"I am sure there are more interesting discussions than listening to the stories of a man such as myself, milady," he responded in a melodious voice.

The human giggled, as if that had been the funniest joke she had heard. "You are too humble, Duke de Beauvoir," she gushed. "What brought a Frenchman such as yourself to England ?" The lady asked, stepping closer.

"I merely wished for a change of scenery," he replied vaguely, his tone carrying an air of mystery that only fueled the lady's curiosity.

The lady's words, laced with a hint of flirtation and delivered in a sultry voice, hung in the air like a delicate perfume, enveloping the space between them. "A great reason to make new acquaintances," she insinuated, her gaze locked with Dorian's, her proximity closing the gap between them.

In response, Dorian allowed a playful glint to flicker in his eyes, acknowledging the unspoken invitation. He was always willing to be entertained. He considered the possibility of continuing their exchange in a quieter corner of the palace, away from the prying eyes and curious gazes of the other attendants.

"A great way indeed," added a new person who inserted himself into the conversation, "Charlotte, why don't you introduce me to this fine gentleman ?"

Dorian, accustomed to the art of captivating an audience, turned around with practiced grace, ready to unleash his signature charming smile. The voice that had interrupted their conversation had piqued his interest, and he welcomed the attention with a subtle anticipation. Among vampires, pride was a prevailing trait, and Dorian, in particular, relished the spotlight. The knowledge that others hung on his every word, that he could control the narrative and reveal only what he wished, provided him with an exhilarating rush.

As he prepared to unveil his charismatic persona, Dorian's poised demeanor faltered ever so slightly at the sight before him. Long wavy auburn hair lazily gracing his shoulders; sharp yet beautiful features and striking hazel eyes. Truly, a sight to behold. True beauty was something hard to come across, yet here it presented itself to him, in such unforeseen circumstances. The mortal put an arm protectively around the lady’s shoulders and Dorian narrowed his eyes slightly, unsure of their bond.

"Brother," Charlotte greeted with warmth, introducing the mysterious man at her side. "This is Duke Dorian de Beauvoir."

Dorian inclined his head with a polite acknowledgment, his charming smile remaining intact. "Bonsoir, it is a pleasure to meet you," he trailed off, trying to catch the name of the stranger.

"Killian," he supplied. "Killian Ambrose-Hart."

"Ambrose," he mused inwardly. An ancient name, steeped in history, meaning Immortal. Everlasting. The serendipity of the encounter was not lost on Dorian. His lips curled up. This must have been fated. Dorian's eyes, still retaining their playful gleam, lingered on Killian for a moment longer.

"Why don't you join us," the blond suggested, gesturing at an empty seat at their table.

"Brother, sir de Beauvoir is from France," Charlotte informed him. "He was about to tell me more about himself."

"Nothing quite interesting, I'm afraid," he responded a bit dismissively, turning his attention back on the brother who had sat down reluctantly. "London is grand and lively, nothing like what I am used to from France. I would need someone to show me around to get accustomed to the new scenery."

When the other didn't seem to get the hint, the conversation continued, the sister trying to get Dorian's attention while he had been ensnared by the unsuspecting brother. The siblings eventually departed and the blond was left bitter.

Now that Dorian knew he existed, no other man would suffice. The heart wanted what it wanted, and his ? Well, his wanted this elusive human.

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

"Are you almost done ?" (Y/n)'s modulated voice brought him back to reality.

His eyes landed on her, adorning a magnificent rose red dress that complimented her complexion. She posed on a black chair, elegant and youthful. He looked back at his tableau.

His first and last human portrait of her. Her skin still glowed with colorful warm hues, her eyes lacked any hint of red and her teeth were dull compared to that of vampires. He rarely captured life, but he was willing to make an exception for his child. Soon she would be different. For the better, but nonetheless different.

He wondered how she would react to her turning. He would ensure it would be as painless as he possibly could. This would certainly be a night to remember, and perhaps even the first she would remember. Dorian wondered if like him, she would be among the few who lost their memory of their human life following their turning. He hoped she would. Starting anew with her would be the greatest gift that could be given to him. He could educate and mold her properly; no pesky memories of her parents and her peasant life. She would only know him and Killian.

He turned back towards her. "Not yet, doll," he answered and chuckled as she sighed. "Be patient— and smile."

"Do you often paint ?" She asked, perhaps trying to make the time pass faster.

"For as long as I can remember," he answered. A talent he must had retained from his human life, he supposed. "All paintings on display on this floor were made by me."

"Really ?" She turned around, pointing at one portrait of him and Killian in the room. "Even this one ?"

"Indeed," he confirmed with a smile, then added: "Stop moving, doll."

"Isn't it easier to bring in a painter to paint you and him together ?" (Y/n) asked, settling back into place.

"We tried," he acknowledged, "but we found mine always turned out better."

Painters had this ability of picking up small details most didn't see. Teeth too white, fangs too sharp, skin taking a deathly color. They saw too much. They showed too much. They accentuated it all too much, peeling away the carefully crafted façade created by them. Presenting what wasn’t meant to be shown ; what they didn’t want to be shown.

"They really are pretty," she complimented.

"Thank you," he smiled. "We are almost done."

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #unhealthy relationships #toxic relationship #stockholm syndrome

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simpforfandom231 · 1 month

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Snuggles and whispers

i have to say, Lindsay lohan is starting to be my favorite redhead but don't worry, Reneé and Rachel are still very much my favorites too ;-)

pairing: Lindsay Lohan x femreader

this is a short one but i am seeing if you guys would like some Lohan fanfics. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n sat hunched over her laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face as she furiously typed away. The rhythmic click-clack of the keys filled the quiet living room. It was one of those nights where work seemed endless, but Y/n was determined to finish her tasks before calling it a night.

Lindsay emerged from the kitchen, a faint scent of freshly brewed coffee trailing behind her. She padded over to where Y/n was seated, her eyes softening as she observed her girlfriend engrossed in her work.

"Hey there," Lindsay murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against Y/n's shoulder. "Still burning the midnight oil?"

Y/n smiled, the fatigue evident in her eyes. "Yeah, just wrapping things up. Almost done though."

Lindsay settled down on the couch beside Y/n, nestling herself in between her girlfriend's legs. She draped an arm around Y/n's waist, nuzzling against her neck affectionately. Y/n couldn't help but lean into the warmth of Lindsay's embrace, finding solace in her presence.

As Y/n continued to work, Lindsay's eyelids grew heavy, the soft hum of Y/n's voice and the warmth of her body lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her head resting against Y/n's chest, Lindsay's breaths became steady and deep.

Y/n stole a glance at her sleeping girlfriend, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She admired the delicate freckles sprinkled across Lindsay's face, tracing each one with her eyes as if committing them to memory. To Y/n, Lindsay's freckles were like constellations, mapping out a story of their own.

"You know," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I love your freckles. Each one tells a story."

Lindsay stirred slightly, a small grin playing on her lips as she pretended to be asleep.

Y/n chuckled softly, running her fingers through Lindsay's fiery locks. "And your hair... it's like spun gold, so soft and vibrant. I could get lost in it forever."

Lindsay let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to Y/n's warmth.

"But what I love most," Y/n continued, her voice barely audible, "is when the sunlight hits your skin just right. You glow, Lindsay. You truly do."

A gentle breeze fluttered through the open window, casting playful shadows across the room. Y/n watched as the moonlight danced across Lindsay's features, illuminating her beauty in the most mesmerizing way.

"And your shoulders," Y/n whispered, trailing her fingertips along Lindsay's bare arms. "They're my favorite canvas, adorned with the most exquisite freckles. Each one a masterpiece in its own right."

Lindsay's lips twitched into a smile, her facade of sleepiness beginning to fade.

Y/n leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss against Lindsay's temple. "I love you, Lindsay Lohan. With all my heart."

Lindsay's eyes fluttered open, a soft glow of adoration shining in their depths. "I love you too, Y/n. More than you'll ever know."

As Y/n continued to type away on her laptop, she felt Lindsay's warm breath on her shoulder, causing her to feign shock once again. "Lindsay, you're awake!"

Lindsay chuckled softly, her voice tinged with amusement. "I told you, I'm a master of deception, baby."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at Lindsay's playful demeanor. "You're incorrigible, Linds."

Lindsay grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guilty as charged."

Their playful exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Maurice and Willow, who bounded over to the couch, their tails wagging eagerly.

Lindsay's face lit up with delight as she scooped up the two dachshunds, showering them with affectionate kisses. "Look at these little angels, Y/n. How can you say no to these faces?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "We've been through this, Lindsay. They can't disturb me while I'm working."

Lindsay's bottom lip jutted out in a playful pout. "But they just want to cuddle with their mommies."

Unable to resist Lindsay's puppy-dog eyes (which were remarkably similar to Maurice and Willow's), Y/n relented, giving in to their furry companions' demands.

As the dogs snuggled close, Y/n reached out to ruffle Lindsay's fiery red hair, her touch gentle and loving. "You and your puppy-dog eyes get me every time, Linds."

Lindsay grinned, her eyes sparkling with affection. "What can I say? It's a gift."

Their cozy moment was interrupted by a loud yawn from Maurice, who promptly nestled himself against Lindsay's side, his eyes drooping sleepily.

As Lindsay playfully closed Y/n's laptop, she flashed a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Come on, baby," she said softly, leaning in close to brush her lips against Y/n's cheek. "You've been working non-stop. We really need to get in bed and get some sleep."

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at Lindsay's playful insistence, her heart swelling with affection for the redhead beside her. "Alright, alright," she relented, unable to resist the allure of Lindsay's soft smile. "But only because you asked so nicely."

With a triumphant grin, Lindsay wrapped her arms around Y/n's neck, pulling her close as Y/n scooped her up into her arms. Maurice and Willow, always eager to be by their mommies' sides, followed closely behind, their tiny paws tapping against the floor with each step.

As they entered the bedroom, Y/n gently laid Lindsay down on the bed, the soft mattress sinking beneath their weight. Maurice and Willow wasted no time in joining them, bounding onto the bed with excited yips and wagging tails.

Y/n chuckled softly as she watched the dogs make themselves comfortable, their furry bodies snuggling close to their owners. "Looks like they're ready for bedtime too."

Lindsay grinned up at Y/n, her eyes shining with affection. "They're just following our lead," she said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Y/n's ear. "We set the best examples, after all."

Before Y/n could respond, Lindsay suddenly pulled her close, her lips meeting Y/n's in a forceful yet tender kiss. Y/n pulled back, her eyes wide with surprise. "What was that for?" she asked, a giggle escaping her lips.

Lindsay simply smiled sweetly, her gaze soft and adoring. "Just because," she murmured, her voice filled with love. "Because I can't help but kiss the most amazing person in the world."

As Lindsay nestled herself into the blankets, she let out a contented sigh, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. Y/n couldn't help but smile at the sight of her girlfriend, her heart swelling with affection.

"Comfy, redhead?" Y/n teased, gently nudging Lindsay with her elbow.

Lindsay let out a sleepy giggle, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mmm, so comfy," she murmured, snuggling closer to Y/n's warmth.

Y/n's heart melted at Lindsay's adorable response. Leaning in, she placed a soft kiss on Lindsay's forehead. "You're too cute, you know that?"

Lindsay's response was a gentle, sleepy kiss on Y/n's cheek, her lips warm against her skin. "Just for you, baby," she whispered, her words barely audible.

Lindsay's eyes fluttered closed, her breathing growing steady as sleep began to claim her. But just before she drifted off completely, she stirred slightly, her voice soft and sleepy. "Y/n?"

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Lindsay's voice. "Yes, love?"

Lindsay's words were barely a whisper, barely coherent in her sleepy state. "Can you... whisper again?"

Confused but intrigued, Y/n leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Lindsay's ear. "Why do you want me to whisper, Linds?"

Lindsay's response was a sleepy murmur, her words filled with affection. "Because... I love it when you tell me... what you love about me."

Y/n's heart swelled at Lindsay's request, the love she felt for her girlfriend overflowing. Gently, she began to whisper, her words a soft caress against Lindsay's skin.

"I love your fiery red hair," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like waves of silk, cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall."

Lindsay let out a contented sigh, her breathing growing slow and steady. Encouraged by her response, Y/n continued, her words a gentle lullaby.

"And your eyes," she whispered, her voice filled with admiration. "They're like the ocean on a stormy day, deep and mysterious, yet filled with endless depths of love."

As Y/n spoke, Lindsay's breathing grew even, her body relaxing against Y/n's. And in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Y/n couldn't help but feel grateful for the incredible woman lying beside her, her heart overflowing with love and tenderness.

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topmalereaderblog · 8 months

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Captain John Price // Fluff ABC 🌸

A - Affection (How do they show their love):

He shows his affection by displaying it. He isn't scared of what others think, and with the line of work you both have, anything can happen, so he would love to have you in his arms and vice versa.

B - Beauty (What made them fall for you):

He loves the fact that you're committed to your work, but what sealed the deal for him would be your loyalty to those you trust and how much people respect you. Hell, when you take charge of a situation, he can feel your authority just like everyone else and would admire how responsible you are.

“Okay, everyone, this is what we're gonna do….”

“Captain, are you okay?” Soap asked as you decided to take control.

“Um- Yeah, Yeah, I'm fine; why?” he responded.

“You look distracted,” soap smirked.

John felt himself turn red at that moment and just wanted to die; lucky everyone else was too busy listening to you to realize what was happening.

C - Caring (How do they show they care):

He listens and pays attention to everything you say to him. Everything about you is important, so he would make an effort to try and remember what it is that you said to try and impress you. He would also show he cares about you by ensuring you're safe, comfortable, and well-situated.

“Shit, it's fucking freezing,” you said as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Here, take my coat,” he said, getting ready to remove it.

“It's fine-”

“I insist; please take it. I’m not taking no for an answer,” he said, looking at you with his coat in his hands.

“Fine, but only if we take turns,” you told him.“Okay,” he smiled at himself, feeling warmer than usual, even out in the cold.

D - Domestic (How do they like to spend time):

When he and you take a break from work, he wants to spend every moment with you. It's the only time when you both don't have to worry much about being responsible and get to let loose. He also loves having actual date nights with you and getting to know the more domestic side of you.

The smell of bacon and eggs was very prominent around the apartment as John woke up from a good sleep, hearing music as he opened the door to the small hallway.

“Oh, say you'll always be my baby; we can make it shine” John smiles to himself as you move your hips and sing.

“We can take forever, just a minute at a time, ah.”

“More than a woman” John decides to join your small party holding a spatula.

E - Entertainment (What do they do for fun):

Gardening; he grew up in Herefordshire, where they are big on agriculture, and it is no surprise that he likes gardens too. He has your tiny balcony filled with plants, which you also help maintain. He loves the fact that you're willing to help and that you care just as much as he does for wildlife. He also likes to draw something about himself that gives me that idea.

“John, that's pretty good,” you complimented him as he drew the landscape from your balcony.

“You think?” he asked, his eyes still focused on the canvas in front of him.

“Yes, babe, we should have it framed and hung in the living room,” you told him and gave him a quick peck on his cheek, leaving him to ensure you were not bothering.

John just smiles to himself, the tip of his ears red and his chest puffing with pride.

F - Family (Do they want a family):

He definitely wants a family with you, but first, he would love to ensure you both have the necessary resources to care for children. Once those kids are ready to move out of the womb, expect to see him cry. “I just got news of the surrogate,” you yelled as you ran to him. “What is it? Is she fine?” he asked with panic in his voice. “We're gonna be dads!” you yelled as you tackled him to the ground, “Really-” he asked with disbelief as he settled the new information. “I'm gonna be a dad!” he asked, shouting while you both were hugging, still on the ground with tears in his eyes.

G - Gentle (How do they destress):

He loves it when you give him a good message as a destresser. It gets the job done and also helps him relax after a long day of work. He also loves taking baths with you, most preferably with his back against your chest he likes feeling your arms wrapped around him. “Thank you, lover boy, it feels good,” John said as you rubbed his back. “It's okay, John, just relax, okay,” you replied. “Mmm” was all he said as he slowly fell asleep.

H - Home (What's their dream home):

His dream home is living in the countryside with you, with a beautiful home with a wrapped-around porch and lots of land to farm in. I would assume there would also be a small section saved for a playground for any future kids. He would also have a nice porch swing built for the both of you to enjoy. The home itself would be very taken care of after all; that's where the both of you will grow old. “You know, one day I want to own a farm where I grew up,'' John said as you were both lying in bed. “That sounds very nice and peaceful compared to the city,” you said as you turned to look at him. “I'm gonna marry you and give you kids someday and also give you the home you want, you know that, right,” you said as you kissed his lips. “Well see, lover boy, Well see,” he said, smiling and kissing you back.

I - Interactions (How do they communicate):

You both are very open with communication. You don't keep secrets, and when something is wrong, you tell each other straight away. You both also do this thing where if there's a heated argument, you both will walk away and talk to each other when things cool down on both sides. You also have a truth jar where when you both are too scared to say something, you write it down, and the other pulls it out and reads it. Usually containing dirty secrets. “I put something in the jar,” John asked as you approached him. “Okay, well, let's read it,”' you said as he nodded with a red face. He saw as you began to read the small note. “Well then, why don't we get prepared? '' You smirked. “Okay,” he said, now speed-walking to your shared bedroom.

J - Jealousy (Do they get jealous):

Yes, you both get jealous, but it's not your actions that make each other jealous, it's the fact that people walk up to you attempting to flirt that gets you both riled up, and this is where the communication stuff comes in. You both talk it up and try to understand each other as much as possible. However, other than that, you both hardly get jealous and laugh at the situation later. “You know she's not that cute, right,” you told a pouting John. “You think-” “Oh, trust me, I know, so besides, with all that makeup, she should be in a circus,” you said as he chuckled. “Well played, just saved yourself a breakup,” he said as you both began to laugh at the situation.

K - Kisses (How do they like to kiss):

He loves kisses in general, whether it be on his cheek or lips; he doesn't really care so long as he gets a kiss at least once per day. If you are both on a mission, you always make sure you have a kiss goodbye just in case things go sideways and also just for reassurance since he wants to make sure you are actually there. “Okay, ready?” John looked at you with worry in his eyes. “Yup- don't die, please,” you said to John as you finished putting on your uniforms. “I'll try not to,” he smirked as he started walking out. John felt a hand on his hips as he was pushed to the wall, suddenly feeling lips on his own. “Just in case,” you walked out, leaving a flustered Captain.

L - Love (Who says “I love you” first):

He was the first to say, “I love you ''. It was after a mission, and you got badly injured on his watch. He felt extremely guilty and stayed with you as you were knocked out in a hospital bed. He honestly didn't know what came over him, but he just said it as if something had taken over his body. Maybe it was guilt or sadness or emotions that have bottled up with time that is now being released. He didn't care much at that moment; all he knew was that he loved you, and that's all that mattered. “I… I- I love you,” John said as he held your hand while you were asleep. “I know you can hear me, so please - please don't leave me not yet, okay?” he said in a questioning tone. “I love you, M/N, just keep fighting; please wake up soon,” he said as he got up to leave since it was pretty late.

M - Marriage (Do they want to get married):

There's no questioning it. John is a very simple yet traditional man with high morals, which means he only dates to marry and waits until marriage for the devil's tango. Still, since he joined his job at a relatively young age, he has zero experience, and no one has interested him much, well, at least until you showed up. “Look, I'm going to be honest with you” he took a deep breath. “I never dated anyone, and I usually always told myself to date if I know I want to get married, but my job hasn't given me much time to look, if you get what I mean.” “But when I told you I loved you, it was true, and I hope you understand,” he ended, waiting for a response. “Well, I guess I'm gonna have to be your first and your last,” you said with a smile as you hugged him. “I love you, John, and I'm willing to wait for as long as you need, okay….” “Okay”

N - Nicknames (What pet/nicknames do you have for each other):

His nickname to you is ‘lover boy.’ He got that nickname for you when you both were talking about your future together, and with his hopelessly romantic self, it just felt right at the moment. His nickname is something simple, nothing too extravagant it's just babe, but as a way to tease him, you also call him Captain very often as well. I mean, in reality, it was basically the first thing you called him when you met. “Good afternoon, Captain,” you said as you walked past him into the bathroom. “I'm gonna be Captain from now on?” John looked at you with a smirk. “Depends if you can listen to orders, Captain~,” you said teasingly. “Well then, lover boy, what's my first assignment?” “Wash the dishes I cooked you clean,” you said with a chuckle as you went to the closet. “You know what I meant” he yelled as he chuckled and walked to the kitchen.

O - Opposites (What's something you don't have in common):

You guys have a lot in common, but something that stands out is your love for comic books. He finds your hobby cute, especially when you tell him about it and just start rambling on and on about it. But it's not something he usually reads though he did like one comic, which is most like Batman.

P - Proposal (How do they propose):

You both proposed simultaneously. Since you're both pretty romantic, you both decided to propose during your anniversary of being together, which happened to land on a day when you had a mission. After returning back to the base, you both wasted no time in dropping to your knee. The task force was very supportive, but they also found it funny that you both had the same idea. As you and the task force walked back to the force, you sped up to John, who was talking to Simon. “John, I have something to ask,” you said nervously. “I do, too, but do you want to go first? I can-” “How about we just both say it at the same time, then explain, yeah….” you said with a small smile. John was definitely contemplating and fighting his thoughts. “Okay,” he said with a deep breath. “WILL YOU MARRY ME”

Q - Quaint (What is their favorite non-modern thing):

His favorite non-modern thing to do with you is gardening and taking walks, depending on your location. Though there was this one time when you both decided to slow dance together in your living room. “I love you,” John said as you both swayed to the soft music. “I love you too, babe,” you said as you stared into his eyes and kissed him softly. “Until we're old and gray,” you said as you leaned back from the kiss. “Until we're old and gray,” he repeated, going in for another kiss.

R - Respect (How do they show/earn/get respect):

He respected you long before you got together. As I mentioned, you were very professional and responsible with your job, and it was very inspiring with how much effort you put into it. However, when you got together, that respect definitely went up a lot higher.

S - Sleeping (How do they usually sleep):

You both are hopeless romantics, and no one can say otherwise. You both like physical contact, and with your jobs, it just reinforces it even more. Though he does snore a bit, but not often either. You both take turns to see who will be, the big spoon and the little spoon. You woke up to the feeling of John pressing his back against your chest, mostly to a bad dream. “I'm here, babe; it's okay.” “Mm~” You kissed his forehead and went back to sleep with the man you loved in your arms.

T - Teamwork (How well do you work with each other):

You guys ride or die; literally, you're always there for each other and making sure the other is safe, and when you both go into a relationship, it's no different. You're always looking out for one another and ensuring the other is okay. “You both are so gross,” Soap said as you and John kissed. “You just wish you had someone like that,” said Gaz as he walked away. “Take that back, you little shit,” he yelled, chasing after Gaz.

U - Unique (What something they do that makes them stand out):

His ability to live in harsh conditions. That is something you always found unique about him. He's gotten so used to being out on the field that every move he makes is always so strategized and very well calculated, and the fact that he never gives up. He also loves to build stuff for the house; when you both eventually marry and settle, he will build a nursery for your future child.

“I have something to show you,” John said as you were watering the plants.

“Okay,” you said,d following him.

“Remember when I said you couldn't enter the room because I was working on a surprise?” “And let me guess, you're done?” you said, smiling. “Yup- Okay, close your eyes and no peeking.” “Okay,” you said. “Open them,” John asked as you opened your eyes slowly and looked around the nursery. “What do you think?” “John, it's beautiful, l,” you said as you felt your eyes become watery. “I love you,” you said, kissing him.

V - Vanity (Something they are proud of):

His beard and body. Let's be honest; he worked hard for his body and beard. I would say he is very proud of those things. But what gets his chest puffing with pride is when you announce him as your husband after you get married. “It's so nice to see you again,” said an old friend of yours. “Hey, it's been so long,” you said. “This is my husband, John.” “Hello,” he said with a proud smile.

W - Wedding (What's their dream wedding):

I would assume you're both getting ready to settle down. Your wedding isn't anything that is spectacular, something small with a few friends and family. There was definitely a cry on both parts, and you were both very happy that after all you've gone through together, you're finally getting your happy ending. “I told you I'll marry you someday,” you said as you slowly danced together.“Well, looks like you did, lover boy,” He said, kissing you. (10 years later) “I love you, lover boy,” John said as you slowly danced in the living room of your home. “Papa! Daddy!” Your five-year-old came down, running to you. “Hi, buddy, what's up?” John said, holding him as you wrapped your arms around him. “Look It, me, Papa, and you,” he said, holding a drawing. “Wow, let's hang it in the fridge, yah,” you said as your boy shook his head enthusiastically. (20 years later) “Looks like I completed my longest mission,” you said to John as you were both swinging and the porch swing. “Yeah? What is it?” John asked. “Well, I got married to you, I gave you the house you wanted, and we had kids together, and now we're old and gray,” you said to him as you kissed his knuckles. “Well, I guess you did, lover boy,” he said as he rested his head on your shoulders.

X - Xaern (What do they enjoy):

He likes being helpful as much as possible if you need help. He is there in a heartbeat to support you however he can. He also enjoys watching movies while cuddling or, if you're up to it, slow dancing with him. Who knew that one dance would become a regular occurrence.

Y - Yearning (How often do they want to spend time):

He loves you so much and can be away from you for long periods, but once you're reunited, you're practically inseparable and are always found at each other's side. Not only that, but you both believe that couples should spend as much time together as possible with alone time periodically.

Z - Zoo (Do they want any pets):

As I mentioned, you both would live on a farm eventually, so farm animals are guaranteed, and those are considered your pets. Though you would also have a dog or two running around the place, either dalmatians or german shepherds. Maybe both, but those are the ones I can see the most.

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opalemo · 8 months

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endless summer. ✿

summer may end, but memories last forever. spending the warm days with them, as things i dream of doing with the guy i like…

kazuha / albedo / childe / cyno & gn reader. fluff!

kazuha

“i know i tell you this a lot, but your voice is so pretty, you know?”

“i guess i kind of know, since you tell me all the time.”

“it’s just a fact.”

kazuha looks away to suppress his smile, but it sneaks onto his face anyways. you think it’s cute - the way he still refuses to take a compliment that is so obviously true.

actually, everything about him is pretty. everything about him just feels so perfect. too good to be true. he’s kind and gentle and soft spoken. he’s good with animals and other people. he has the voice of an angel and can play so many instruments. he cares, and goes out of his way to show it. and he just loves so genuinely. so selflessly.

but he is real. he is true. he is right here in front of you, still strumming his guitar from his precarious perch. the city is oddly silent from all the way up here. you can see everything - everyone’s little lives, and you imagine all their unfathomable dreams and desires. you think of how crazy it is that you of all people get to be with him on the last day of summer, and that he has been right by your side for the past 60 days.

and kazuha doesn’t say it out loud (he doesn’t think he ever could), but he promises inside his heart that he will be with you for all the next days of your lives.

albedo

the morning sun falls upon the planes of his face. you’re trying your best to sit still, letting only your eyes wander across his features, flitting between the focused crease between his brows and the pursing of his lips. the breeze is so gentle the air is nearly still, but not quite. the scent of grass and dew lingers in the air, mixed with the smell of acrylics and canvas from where albedo sits.

“almost done”, he murmurs, eyes shifting from the painting to meet yours. he smiles gently, sweet and loving, as you try not to break out into a grin too wide - it might ruin his paintings. who knows.

his smile grows at your commitment to his work, picking up the brush again. he continues on for a few minutes this way, tilting his head to one side to seemingly observe your face better, moments of amusement and adoration flitting in his gaze. you continue to sit and admire him. a work of art that makes art.

albedo stands when he’s finished and turns the painting around. you look so… beautiful. so unlike you. clearly, he can read your thoughts (or you’re just too obvious), and his face scrunches up in worry.

“you are this beautiful, love. even more than i could ever depict. don’t ever doubt it.”

childe

you usually hate sand, but it’s kind of okay if it means you get to share this moment with childe.

it’s out of a movie - the sun is setting over the ocean, a sheet of gold meeting the surging foam of the sea, seagulls calling and the sticky sensation of salt on your skin a reminder of the day’s memories.

his hair is tousled, even more than usual, the breeze raking through it with a carefree nature. there’s a contentedness in his eyes you don’t usually see - not when he’s caught up with work and other responsibilities. but today, as the blue in his eyes reflects the ocean and the last lingering hints of today’s sky, you see light. you see joy.

and he sees you. all he sees is you - the excitement as you whip out your camera to capture the sunset. the squeals as you flail around in the waves, your inner child revelling in the warmth of the sun. the constant “can i take a photo of you? just get in the photo!!” every time the scenery changes. the softness (and simultaneous electricity) in your touch as you lean your head against his shoulder.

with you, he feels young again. like nothing matters - none of it matters except you.

cyno

you look at the time. it’s 1:30am, but stopping now doesn’t feel right, even though truth be told, you’re kind of fighting for your life to keep your eyes open.

cyno’s too immersed in his next move to see you contemplating the time. he’s been too immersed for the past 3 hours to keep track of anything, to be honest. he’s funny like this - competitive and yet still harbours a soft spot for you. you know that if you feign upset at getting absolutely destroyed in game by him, he’ll let you win without hesitation.

he finally finishes his turn, something like a giggle and an evil laugh bubbling from his chest. “your turn!”

all you can return is an adoring chuckle. he’s endearing, to say the least. “so you think you can beat me, huh?”

“i beat you every time. be so serious right now.”

“well there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

cyno doesn’t know why your competitiveness makes him feel like he has a crush on you all over again, but he doesn’t mind it - you make the adrenaline course through his veins.

and honestly, he knows it’s late, and he knows you get tired. he’s just hoping you’ll fall asleep here with him. he’ll never tell you though. he’ll never expose his best move yet.

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peachywritess · 1 year

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happiness looks good on you ー knj

☁️ genre: long-term lovers, estabilished relationship, fluff, kind of domestic!au, namjoon being a supportive husband.

☁️ pairings: husband!kim namjoon x artist!female!reader

☁️ warnings: there aren't any, just joonie being husband material, use of pet names such as jagiya, baby, love.

☁️ word count: 1,7k

☁️ author's note: just a small little thing i had in mind, not my best but i really liked writing this, i hope you like it bubs!!<3

Feedbacks are welcomed !

The brush plopped into the water jar, and a few drops of coloured liquid spilt on the wooden surface. Some ended up on your phone which lit up, the lock screen displaying your favourite picture: you and Namjoon holding a white teddy bear he had won at an amusement park. You remembered that day clearly: it was your first anniversary.

You had captured the moment with a polaroid camera Namjoon had bought as a gift, and you still hadn’t figured out how it worked so the shot came out far too bright. However, looking at that picture years later still brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia: you were both so young, inexperienced, and still seeking to understand each other. Seven years had passed since that day, and so many things had happened: your trip to Bali, rescuing two calico cats and naming them Zelda and Esme, your tour of Europe, and then your marriage.

Your house was full of memories and pictures from your numerous adventures like the one in the Italian Alps where you were too scared to cross a suspended bridge, and Namjoon had to carry you for more than a mile. Or the one in the french Blue Coast when he had mistaken tanning oil for sunscreen so you both had pretty bad sunburns for the entire week.

“I told you to buy sunscreen, Joonie - sunscreen!”

“It is! See, huile de bronzage.” He had panicked showing you the little brown bottle.

“It literally means tanning oil, Namjoon Kim!”

A smile shone on your lips ー reminiscing all of the wonderful memories you had made together. You missed his buzz cut, and how his short hair used to tingle your palms: when you were younger, Namjoon let you dye it in different colours. One time, you had opted for pretty pink flowers, and the dye had stayed on for months.

You loved that he couldn't give a damn about other people's judgement - in fact - he would always brag to his hyungs how talented his girlfriend was. Surely, he would let you know.

"Jagiya, you are so talented. Please dye my hair forever!"

You had majored in arts whereas Namjoon had chosen to open up a travel agency. Initially, it was not easy for either of you: you had only each other's support and getting through the month was always difficult.

Namjoon stayed out late to advertise his shop, but despite this he would always stay up all night watching you finalise one of your paintings, making sure to bring you a glass of water about every half hour because "it's important to stay hydrated when you are working hard."

He would try his best to stay awake by telling you about his day, showering you with compliments and then attempting to analyse what you were painting. You would quietly listen to him, some mhmh's and mhh's in response and occasionally interrupt his chatter to tell him to get some rest. Yet each time he reiterated the same phrase: 'I'll stay awake as long as you do, love'.

And so within minutes he would fall asleep on the couch and you would bring a blanket and a pillow for him to be comfortable.

But now, his hair had grown out and you had practically lost the sparks you usually felt when you painted. Finishing a canvas was now something you had to do - and really didn't enjoy at all.

“You have one month, Y/N. Then I will shred the contract to pieces, understood?”

You listened in silence as your boss complained over the phone, her voice a few octaves higher.

“I mean, what happened to you? Do you think I pay lazy and unmotivated people? Our company seeks talent and commitment, and I’m afraid you no longer have any of these requirements.”

You sharply inhaled pinching the bridge of your nose, back resting against the chair as Namjoon stood right behind you, he too in silence. His hands were placed on your shoulders, which he stroked softly.

“I understand, Mrs Han. I am working on a piece at the moment, and I swear that it will be done in less than a month-”

You took all of your courage to speak - that woman truly scared you. Ms Han was the director of the agency you worked for, whose aim was to sell artwork at a premium price. She was a fifty-year-old woman with a passion for belittling her employees and underpaying them.

“No more promises, I don’t care. I just want that piece at the end of this month.” She interrupted you, and you sighed.

Just know that this is your last chance.”

And just like that she hung up, leaving you lost in a limbo of disbelief and terror: you could not afford to lose this job.

Yes, it probably wasn't the best job on the planet, but you hadn't yet realised your dream of opening your own atelier, and this company - although not particularly ethical - was a sure ticket to gaining a small amount of notoriety in the industry.

“Wow, what a bitch.” Namjoon proclaimed breaking the silence and bringing a small smile to your lips.

“Damn right she is.”

You groaned, squinting your eyes shut, before running your hands down your face - in a gesture of sheer exasperation. “I could end her whole career if I wanted to.”

“Then do that, baby. You have nothing to lose, she does.”

You let your head fall back, resting it on the chair, finally meeting your boyfriend's gaze. He was smiling, and his dimples looked so adorable you wanted to squeeze his cheeks.

“Um, probably my job, Joonie?”

“Yeah, that’s a good point.”

Namjoon leaned forward until you were close enough to look directly into his eyes, then left a soft kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes, savouring that brief moment of tranquillity. His attention then shifted to the canvas in front of you - a few lines of red paint already starting to dry up - and observed it thoroughly without saying a word.

"Do you remember when you accepted the job offer?" He questioned.

"Mhmh, what about it?"

"And do you also remember what you told me?"

You bit your lower lip, scratching your chin with your index finger.

You had said a million, no, a billion things to Namjoon before you signed that contract.

"Um, wish me luck?" You said in a slightly questioning tone, and your husband facepalmed.

With a swift movement, he turned the chair you were sitting on allowing you to look him directly in the eyes. That gesture made you blush and you stared at him with doe eyes.

"No, jagi, not the correct answer." He tilted his head, soft jet-black locks brushing his forehead. "You promised me you wouldn't let them change you."

You were struggling, and that broke his heart.

Namjoon knew you were desperately trying to paint something, anything that would please your boss. He had examined the shift in your brushstrokes from time to time, and they didn’t seem to belong to you. They were abrupt and quick, whereas you always directed them with gentle movements.

He was not seeing you on that canvas, instead, he was seeing a version you had been forced to become.

"Is it worth it, love? Do you want to become a machine for them to make more money?"

You sighed. He was right ー Namjoon was so right.

You had completely forgotten how it felt to make art, you had forgotten how it felt to be free. You had submitted to their rules because they had made empty promises from the start and you had believed them.

Namjoon crouched down, resting his hands on your knees. In that position, the light coming from the window illuminated his face as you gazed at him with pure admiration. He was glowing.

His brown eyes seemed to light up, turning a honey-like amber colour.

"Joonie..." You murmured as your hands gently grabbed his. "I can't lose this job, I just cannot."

"Y/N, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, you know that right?"

His thumbs softly rubbed the back of your hands, something he always did to comfort you. As he stroked he gently drew imaginary shapes like circles, flowers or hearts.

You hummed in response locking eyes with him.

"That's why I want the best for you. I want you to be happy because I can't bear the thought of you ever suffering. And what I truly wish for, is for you to find your love for art again, and-"

"Baby..."

"I don't want you to feel obligated because I swear to you Y/N, I will always support you no matter what," he then grabbed both your hands in his, and brought them to his lips. "but I wish you just left this job."

You smiled when Namjoon placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. Despite all these years, he had never changed: he was still the same old romantic and you couldn't complain.

"I know, Joonie, but what if I can't find anything? What if... I don't make enough money to open the atelier?"

Namjoon lightly squeezed your hands, his eyes never leaving yours as one hand cupped your cheek, delicately caressing it.

"Jagiya, you are the most talented woman I've ever known, and you can do whatever you wish to do. You inspire me every day."

"I wouldn't even know where to start." You relaxed in his touch, letting out a breath.

The warmth of his hand unexpectedly left your cheek, and that's when you saw him searching for something in the pocket of his jeans.

"Perhaps, you could start with these."

You blinked quickly observing the object your husband was holding before your eyes. You raised your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why he was showing you a pair of rusty keys.

Then, a wave of realisation hit you.

Namjoon immediately noticed your eyes turning glazy and your mouth opening slightly in an expression of pure wonder. You grabbed the keys with trembling hands and clutched them to your chest, heart racing.

"The place is a bit run down, but I am sure that in a few months, we will manage to make it perfect."

Without wasting a second you threw your arms around his neck, and tears of happiness fell from your eyes. You couldn't believe it: your dream had just come true.

"I love you so much, Joon, I- I can't believe it. I love you!"

Namjoon stroked your hair, unable to resist tearing up with you, holding you close to him. At that moment, all he wished was for time to stand still and remain like that forever.

"I love you too, princess."

Happiness looked so good on you.

Please consider reblogging my works if you like them! <3

#namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x female reader #kim namjoon x female reader #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon one shot #bts x reader #bts x female reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagine

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

mornings like these (don't last forever)

Pairing: pre!RE2! Leon Kennedy x gn!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: domestic fluff; established relationship; implied and mentioned smut; kissing; slightly sub!Leon; canon compliant; pre-canon; 2nd POV; no y/n; purely self-indulgent; leon being written by hozier Summary: It's mornings like these, bathing in the warm golden glow of the rising sun, his hands wrapped tightly around you, that you cherish the most. or; you and Leon spend the last morning together.

A/N: Partly inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting's Twenty-Four Touches; prompt 8: An arm sneaking around a waist, holding them close. Divider by @benkeibear [source]

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Beneath you, he’s a masterpiece. A work of art. Canvas to be explored. And you, the artist, the only one with the privilege to appreciate the beauty before you. It’s moments like these that make your heart bleed with longing, the knowledge that this can't last forever. But for now, you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace, savoring every touch and caress, every kiss and nip.

The feeling never fades, no matter how hard you try to bury it. It lingers in the recesses of your mind like a relentless drumbeat. Every step you take, every choice you make, brings you back to the same gnawing question – is this what you truly want from life?

It's been haunting you for as long as you can remember, from the days when you had to choose which school to attend. The urge to explore, to roam the world like a restless spirit, has been with you since childhood. You long to escape, to be no one and nothing, but a wandering soul, free to roam wherever your heart desires.

The crossroads stretch endlessly, a maze of choices and uncertainties. Days blur together in a monotonous routine, each one a carbon copy of the last. The worst part is leaving him behind, the one person who makes you feel alive in a world that can feel suffocating. You long to tell him everything, to unburden your soul and share your deepest fears. But the words stick in your throat, choked back by the fear of rejection.

His heart beats slow and steady against your ear. You trace the soft tissue of his breastplate with your fingertips, committing every detail of him to memory. For now, this is where you belong – in his arms, in this moment of fleeting bliss. His naked skin nuzzled into your side; you feel like you could easily live like that forever.

With him by your side.

Young and reckless.

As the first rays of dawn break through the window, casting a warm golden glow across the room, you stir from your slumber. Sitting up, you let the covers slip past your bare chest; shivering momentarily as the morning air dances across your naked flesh. Leon stirs beside you, his eyes still closed as he reaches out, his hand resting on your thigh. Fingers digging into the skin there, thumb tracing lazy shapes over your hip bone.

Leon’s hand continues its ascent, moving up your body like a serpent, coiling tightly around its prey. He tugs backwards, his chest a soft cushion against your back.

"Good morning," he rasps, his voice still heavy with sleep. You turn in his embrace, hands sneaking into the mess on top of his head as he reciprocates the embrace, both hands sneaking around your hips to secure you closer.

A wave of contentment washes over you as you feel the softness of his hair beneath your fingers. You can't help but let out a contented sigh as his lips explore your neck, his teeth playfully grazing the sensitive skin. Every touch feels like a spark of electricity, igniting your senses and filling you with a sense of bliss.

"How did you sleep?" he murmurs against your skin. Wet lips trailing a path along the curve of your suprasternal notch, leaving a glistening trail of warmth that tickles your senses. Fingertips as gentle as a feather dance over your spine.

You chuckle softly, the sound rumbling in your chest. "Like a baby, with you by my side."

The rough texture of his jawline presses into the softness of your palm as you cup his face, tilting it towards you. Leon's eyes are half-lidded, still drowsy from sleep, yet there's a glint of affection in them; love even. Beneath the pad of your thumb, his lips curve into a sleepy smile, plump and inviting like a ripe peach. Memories of last night flood your mind, and you can't help but let your thumb trace the outline of his mouth, savoring the feel of his skin against your fingertips.

The sound of your name escaping from his lips was like a reverent hymn. His fingers digging into your thighs, leaving marks that you could feel for hours afterwards. The way he held you tightly, pressing his body against yours, and whispered hot breath onto your neck. The kisses he planted on your lips; passionate, almost violent, fuelled by a primal desire that consumed you both. The scent of sweat and sex filling the air, a heady aroma that made your heart race. Your body on fire, completely consumed by the passion and lust that Leon had ignited within you.

Leon’s teeth bite into your fingernail. A playful gesture that makes your lips turn upwards. His hand sneaks around the back of your neck to bring you closer. You can feel his warmth radiating against you, and you can’t resist burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin; the warm musk of his skin.

Beneath you, he’s a masterpiece. A work of art. Canvas to be explored. The gentle curve of his spine, the sharp lines of his collarbone, the delicate slope of his shoulder blades, all begging to be traced by your fingertips. The morning light illuminates his skin, casting a soft, tender glow over his form. And you, the artist, the only one with the privilege to appreciate the beauty before you.

It’s moments like these that make your heart bleed with longing, the knowledge that this can't last forever. But for now, you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace, savoring every touch and caress, every kiss and nip.

Leon’s lips move to capture yours, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand. Eyes wide and questioning, the bright blue of his eyes was like the dazzling sunlight on a clear day.

“Not until you brush your teeth,” you mumble, the words a playful jab. Gently pushing your naked form forward, your lips press a soft kiss onto his forehead, leaving behind a trail of warmth.

His hand, strong and calloused, catches yours in a tender grasp. The light dances in his eyes as he watches you move, admiring every curve and line of your body. It's as if he's seeing you for the first time, and he can't get enough.

Fingers intertwining, you flash a loving smile before slipping away towards the bathroom. The cool floorboards a shock against your warm skin. His touch lingers on your skin; a trail of stardust, each particle a memory of the sparks that flew between you.

His arms sneak around you, tight as a bear hug, while his chin rests on your shoulder, hot breath tickling your cheek. Leon’s embrace a warm blanket on a cold winter night, safe and comforting. Something you could definitely get used to.

“Do I get a kiss now,” he murmurs against the side of your face, his voice a soft caress.

“Did you brush your teeth,” you tease, turning to face him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, scratching lightly and eliciting a contented moan from deep within his chest.

“Two minutes; thirty seconds for each quarter,” he responds. Eyes moving to meet yours, a gentle squeeze of your side as his gaze flickers to your lips like a puppy waiting for its treat after completing a new command.

“Good boy,” you respond with a smile, the hand tangled in his now brushed hair pushing his face towards yours. A playful glint dances in his eyes as he leans into your invitation. Lips brushing against his, you can feel him smile as his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. The taste of mint floods your mouth, a refreshing burst of flavor that mixes with the warmth of his lips.

Your body responds almost instinctively, drawn to Leon's presence like a magnet. Feeling the cool surface of the kitchen island, you let him back you into the edge. Leon's lips continue their tender exploration of your mouth, his tongue a velvet brush that sets every nerve in your body alight with a fierce intensity. The soft caress of his hands on your exposed thighs rewarding him with a content moan; blissful and idyllic.

Losing yourself in his presence, the back of your legs up in the air as he sits you onto the counter. The gentle strokes of his tongue ignite a fire within you. Head filled with dizziness, you let yourself get lost in the moment; succumbing to Leon’s assault. The warmth of his hands seeps into your flesh, rendering you powerless to resist his every touch. The kiss like a languid river. Lazy, leisurely and deliberate. No rush. Only content as both of you bathe in each other’s embrace.

The moment is only ripped away with a chime of your phone. Momentarily vibrations pull Leon’s lips away like strings. His smile mischievous, playful as he reaches over to grab the strawberries you’ve been cutting. Putting one in his mouth, he lets you reach for the phone to read the incoming text.

“When’re you leaving,” he looks behind his shoulder onto the few suitcases sitting in the hallway.

Finishing responding to the text, you look back at the man before you. Curious eyes stare back at you, fingers dancing along the soft skin of your knee while he continues to nibble on your breakfast.

“In fifteen minutes, it seems,” you respond. Sneaking one hand onto his jaw, you turn his face towards you; this time to be stopped by him for change – his hand steadily grasping your ribcage, a squeeze indicating you to stop.

“Fifteen minutes,” he looks between you, at the exposed flesh of your legs, “and you’re still in pjs,” shaking his head disapprovingly as he finishes the fruit bowl and adds, “No distractions. You need to change.”

“Hey,” you scold him playfully, “don’t use my lines. I said that last night.”

Leon smiles in exchange, pulling away from in between your legs, “I’ll be in Raccoon City next week. Then we’ll have all the time in the world,” he kisses you for the last time before leaving the kitchen to help you pack the last necessities.

If only both of you had known that it would be the last time you saw each other.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil 2: remake #moni writes #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil 2 fluff #resident evil 2 imagine #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil fanfic

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zooophagous · 2 months

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sorry i feel like i've definitely asked this before but i can't find it for the life of me and it's still something i still worry about.. what's an acceptable level of picky to be with your tattoo artist?

from one artist to another i know what kind of look i'm going for and have high standards for something that will be on my skin forever. i'd like to get a sleeve someday and i trust the tattoo artist with things like composition on a human canvas and their input on colours/linework but like. for example what if i ask for a thylacine and they draw the anatomy is too doglike, would it be a huge dick move to redline it? should it be okay if i approach from the start with a 'i'd really like for the artwork to be a collaboration between the two of us"? i just wanna commit a faux pas gfdhfgds

I don't think it would be a dick move at all, but the unfortunate truth is that a lot of tattoo artists have big annoying egos.

A lot of people get into "outsider" gigs like tattooing because they want to do only what they want to do and don't handle someone else being the boss very well. It's also why tattoo shops are often hotbeds of drama- because the artists want total freedom and flexibility but the shop owner wants to turn a profit lol.

It really depends on the individual tattoo artist how they'd react to changes. I personally welcome input from my clients and I budget extra time for drawing in my appointments.

If you're concerned, I'd begin by finding someone who did well with realistic animals and start the conversation off with the fact that you want the thylacine to not be too dog like and make note of the differences in your initial outreach. It helps to send a lot of visual references too! When I get tattoos I usually do a rough sketch of the direction I'd like and let my artist make a riff off of it.

I will say though- someone who reacts badly to being asked to change a design is almost universally an asshole. They can complain all they want on their down time. They shouldn't complain to you.

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imhenritz · 7 months

Text

Lover

Prompt: Reader serenades her husband Sanji with Taylor Swift's Lover.

Reader’s Name: Mc (Stands for Main Character but made it look like a name)

Note: This moment STILL takes place in the future from my “Giving Him the Love He Deserves” series. It can be a standalone, but it ties in with the story I’ve written before.

Under the twinkling canvas of the night sky, the Thousand Sunny sailed steadily, cutting through the velvety darkness of the Grand Line. The air was filled with a sense of calm, interrupted only by the soft murmur of the crew, each engaged in their own activities. Amidst this tranquility, Mc, the ship's talented singer, stood at the center, her voice weaving a melody that seemed to harmonize with the very essence of the ocean.

With a gentle yet powerful voice, Mc began the bridge of Taylor Swift's "Lover," her eyes fixed on her husband, Sanji. The crew watched in awe as she serenaded him, her words caressing the air like a tender embrace.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?" she sang, her hand reaching out for Sanji's. Their fingers intertwined, a silent yet profound connection, as she continued, "With every guitar string scar on my hand, I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover."

As she sang, Mc twirled gracefully, her lithe form moving effortlessly around her much taller husband. Sanji's eyes, usually filled with confidence, were now softened with a mixture of emotions, his heart swelling with the depth of her words.

"My heart's been borrowed, and yours has been blue," she continued, her voice carrying the weight of their shared history, the trials they had faced together. "All's well that ends well to end up with you. Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover," she declared, her hand placed dramatically over his, a silent vow sealed in their intertwined fingers.

Sanji, despite his usual composed demeanor, felt a lump forming in his throat. He was captivated by her sincerity, her words striking a chord deep within him. As she sang, "And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me," he couldn't help but wink at her, his playful nature surfacing even in this intimate moment.

"And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover. Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever?" Mc's voice filled the air, carrying the weight of a promise, a commitment that went beyond mere words. The crew watched, their expressions ranging from amusement to deep appreciation, witnessing the love between the two.

As the song reached its crescendo, Mc approached Sanji, her hand resting on his cheek, her eyes locked onto his with unwavering determination. "Take me out, and take me home," she sang, her voice trailing off into the night, leaving behind an echo of profound love.

Sanji, overwhelmed by her heartfelt serenade, wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice choked with emotion. "I love you, my darling wife,” he whispered, his words a testament to the depth of his feelings.

The crew, touched by the intimate moment they had witnessed, exchanged warm smiles. Love, in all its forms, was a force that bound them together, a reminder of the family they had become on this ship. In that moment, under the starlit sky, Mc and Sanji stood wrapped in each other's arms, their love story an eternal melody, echoing through the vast expanse of the sea.

══════════════════ Thank you for reading! I love giving Sanji an adorable smitten wife. He deserves that.

Check out the Masterlist too!

Stay tuned for more Future Fluffs aboard the Thousand Sunny, starring Mc and Sanji’s adorable married life, and the Straw Hats joining in on the fun!

Don’t miss out on the fluffs:

Breakfast in Sunny

Caught in Act Inspiration to the version of the song here. Timestamp 3:05. How I imagine Mc's voice soft and emotional.

#OPLA SANJI #SANJI X READER #SANJI X READER FLUFF #ONE PIECE SANJI #SANJI #SANJI FLUFF #SANJI X YOU #BLACK LEG SANJI #LUFFY #DRABBLE #ONE PIECE LIVE ACTION #ONE PIECE #ONE PIECE FANFICTION #ONE PIECE FLUFF #ONE PIECE NETFLIX #OP LIVE ACTION #STRAW HAT PIRATES #GIVING HIM THE LOVE HE DESERVES (SANJI X READER)

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flwrbo · 5 months

Text

red dress (jean k. x reader)

(summary : you’re his muse) fluff blurb ! 576 words

written w @gojonator !!! my wife & bestie

"Hold still," Jean says, his tongue poking out between his lips as he looks between you and his canvas.

"I'm trying," You reply, adjusting your posture. "But my butt is starting to hurt from sitting on this stool for so long."

Jean looks up from his painting with a smirk. "Well, when I'm done, I can kiss it better."

"Jean!" You squeal. "If I wasn't modeling for you right now, I'd throw something at your head."

He chuckles. "Okay, okay. I'm not trying to take forever, but I wanna get everything perfect. You're the best muse." He says dipping his brush into some red paint. "Just a little longer, baby and that's it."

"I feel like I'm in the Titanic," You joke, rolling your back out a little.

"Hopefully my career doesn't tank like that did," Jean snorts, repositioning his hand on the brush.

"Jean! Don't say that, you'll jinx it." His girlfriend chastises him, returning to your position. "And it won't. You heard what those stuffy business guys were saying at your exhibit. They want you."

"Well, they're gonna want you after they see this painting." He scoffs out a laugh, painting where the neckline of your dress swoops into a V.

"I'll sweeten up a deal for you, Jean Kirstein."

"I don't know if that's romantic or offensive."

You shrug on the seat you sit on. "Depends on how much you end up banking,"

"Shut up, you're distracting me," He laughs, shaking his hair out of his eyes before returning to his work.

Some time passes in silence, allowing you to take this time to admire how good your boyfriend looks. Opting out of a shirt, he wears a painter's smock with black jeans on under it. His eyes are intense as he takes in your figure, committing it to detail on the canvas.

"Say, am I getting a percentage from this commission?"

"I can think of a few ways to pay you back," He snorts, looking up at you.

"If it doesn't involve a check, then I don't wanna hear it," His girlfriend jokes.

Jean ignores your comment and asks you to turn slightly, trying to make sure every angle is depicted accurately.

"What are you gonna call this piece anyway? Is it gonna be like the Mona Lisa? Just my name? Imagine someone saying my name is their favorite piece of artwork." You daydream.

"Don't slouch," Jean says, studying your features before going back to painting. "And I already think that about you every day."

You sit up straight like you were asked, and your actions are accompanied by a slight blush at her boyfriend's compliment.

"And... Done!" The brunette man sighs out, finalizing the last brush stroke. "Come look."

You waste no time getting out of your seat and rush to Jean's side. "Oh my god, it's beautiful, Jean." You admire the piece. It looked exactly like you, and every strand of hair and lace detail in the dress was perfectly on display.

"Not as beautiful as the real thing." He stares up at you.

“You sap,” You mumble, leaning in for a kiss. He exhales, slotting his lips against yours as he rolls his shoulders. “Jean,” You pull away, resting your hands against his jaw. “You are so talented. Truly.” He stares deeply into your eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “‘M so proud of you. I love you.”

He kisses you. “I love you,” Again. “I love you.”

#<3.jean #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan x reader #jean kirstein fluff #attack on titan fluff #<3.rielle

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

Text

Eddie felt sick to his stomach with nerves.

Today was the day he was going to tell Steve how he felt about him. It was fall now, only six months since Steve had fallen into his orbit, it felt longer. It was easier to think about March being the month Eddie's sunshine boy had become his friend than the month he faced unspeakable horrors.

Eddie wasn't even nervous about telling Steve because he thought he'd get punched in the face, no, Steve had come out to him in the summer, tales of feeling different and a little birdie to help him along the way.

Eddie hadn't had a lot of luck in the past with his heart. No boys in their small town that would dare step a toe out of the closet and men in Indianapolis that just wanted him for a night. There was one boy once, a sweet bartender but after months of what Eddie thought had been flirting the other boy just wanted to be friends.

It was hard to see himself as someone a person could want, a person could care about. The scars didn't help, no matter what his friends said it was hard to look in the mirror and see someone beautiful, not like Stevie, who was perfect before but somehow made the scars look like a masterpiece on a tan canvas.

Eddie has been staring at Steve's from door for ten minutes now, too afraid to knock on the door. He has to tell him though, even if it doesn't work out, he hopes he and Steve will at least be the same after this, he doesn't want to lose him.

Steve makes the choice for him though, opening the door with a questioning look on his face.

"Eddie? Is everything ok? You're not seeing clocks right now are you?"

Eddie shook his head, coming out of his daze, "No, no I'm fine Stevie, um, I came to tell you something."

"Oh, ok, well come on in," Steve smiled brightly, Eddie tried to capture the smile in his memory forever just in case it was the last time he'd see it directed at him.

The two boys sat down on the couch facing each other.

"What did you want to tell me, Eds?"

Eddie prides himself on being a storyteller and good with words, this was not one of those moments.

"I like you, like I really really like you. You're the best part of my everyday Stevie and I just can't help but like you. You don't have to feel the same way, I get it, just don't let this change things between us ok?"

"What if I want things to change?"

Eddie felt his heart break at that, "I understand, I'm just, I'm gonna go."

Eddie stood but Steve quickly reached out his arm to him, "No wait, Eddie! That came out wrong I mean I like you too, that's why I want things to change, so I can do things like this." Steve moved forward and gently kissed Eddie's lips.

"Oh, well I guess I want things to change too."

Steve's face broke into a bright grin again and Eddie knew he wouldn't have to commit it to memory since he'd be seeing it every day for the rest of his life.

#telling people you like them is scarryyyyyy #yes im a mix of steve and eddie in this scenario #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ficlet #fluff #sprinkle of self worth angst for eds

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Text

ode to the loyal knight

Pairing: Silver x gn!reader

Synopsis: you simply adored his very existence, everything single part of him

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for silver, bot proofread

Word count: 606

Notes: ngl i found silver kinda boring at first but i'm glad to say fairy gala remix and other snippets of lore have endeared him to me. happy birthday silver!

Masterlist

Your lover's eyes are a mesmerizing masterpiece, pools of blue and purple hues that you could stare into forever. Within their depths, an ethereal quality dances, as if the colours themselves were blessed by the tender caress of the dawn's first light. When his eyes lock with yours, time stands still, and you find yourself lost in their enchanting splendour. In those captivating eyes, you witness the reflection of his soul, a kind spirit that calls out to you, urging you to delve deeper into his being.

Your lover's tendency to drift into slumber, no matter the circumstance, may exasperate those around him, but to you, it's an endearing aspect of his character, adding a unique charm that you simply can't resist. You can’t help but smile when he falls asleep during classes or training, unable to resist the allure of sleep despite his best efforts.

Your lover tries to stay awake for you determinedly. You see the exhaustion etched upon his face, yet he persists, striving to be fully present with you. But alas, despite his best efforts, his eyelids grow heavy, and his body begins to sway with fatigue. His eyes flutter closed, and his body relaxes and ventures into the realm of dreams. Though sleep claims him, you know that when he awakens, he will be refreshed and ready to spend time with you once more. And in those moments of wakefulness, you will treasure his affection and attention, knowing full well the love he holds for you.

Your lover's laid-back nature draws you in, captivating you with its charm. His naivety sometimes leads to misunderstandings, but it only makes you love him more. You find beauty in his ability to see the best in everyone and everything, even when the world appears grim. He brings light into your life, and when you're together, a fluffy, optimistic atmosphere envelope you both. It may irritate some, but to you, it's a magical space where love and positivity thrive.

Your lover is a knight, a valiant soul committed to honour and duty. His dedication is a testament to the love and gratitude he holds for those who raised him. Through the haze of his somnolence, he strives to repay their kindness, his heart set on protecting those he cherishes. When it comes to those dear to him, caution awakens within him, transforming his demeanour into one of vigilance and protection. His usually serene eyes sharpen, his steps become measured and deliberate. In those moments, you witness the depths of his love and loyalty, his devotion unwavering.

You love how he remains composed and level-headed, carefully weighing each situation before making decisions. In moments of crisis, you trust him to guide you with his steady hand and wise judgment. He is not talkative, but you find solace in the quiet moments spent together. His willingness to listen, to absorb your thoughts and opinions without judgment, creates a safe haven where your voice is valued.

The sleepy gaze he casts upon you, the unwavering dedication he pours into every aspect of his life, and even his endearing absent-mindedness, they all intertwine, creating a tapestry of love that is both gentle and fierce. Every moment spent with him is like a vibrant brushstroke across the sky, an ethereal dance of colours in the canvas of your love. Just like the northern lights so alike his eyes, as the aurora borealis stretches across the horizon, your bond illuminates the depths of your souls, the magic of your love lights up the darkest corners, bringing warmth and comfort to even the coldest nights.

Your lover, is none other than Silver.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #silver #silver x reader

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tarotwitchy · 2 years

Text

{pick-a-card readings}

Pile 1 → Pile 2

Pile 3 → Pile 4

🔞 Minors DNI with this post! 🔞

I am back with another PAC, sweethearts! And this time, we'll be doing an 18+ NSFW Channeled Message from your Future Spouse.

Also, I just want to thank every single person who followed, liked/reblogged, and interacted with this blog. I am so thankful for all of you. This shout-out goes out especially to those who purchased my paid readings. Your continued support and trust in my readings have really alleviated my lack of funds, and you guys have no idea how much difference it made in my life. Thank you so, so much to all of you! 💛

♥️ If you are interested in getting a personalized tarot reading, check out my Paid Reading Services!

Pile 1

Death • 9 of Cups • 4 of Cups • 5 of Wands • Ace of Cups • 7 of Pentacles

— "I want to kiss your luscious lips so badly, it's the only thing you'll think of for days."

— "I know you're very independent and content with yourself. But give me a chance, and let me in."

— "We'll be making love and fucking for hours, I'll be sure to make you soak the sheets with our mixed fluids."

— "I want to drink your cum from the source. So... please make sure you cum a lot for me."

— "If you'd let me, I'll put in the work and eat you out/suck you until you're shaking and breathless. You'll be seeing stars by the time I'm through with you. And by then, we're only just starting."

— "I'm sorry to admit... but making you mad and riled up turns me on so damn much. I love seeing you angry because it summons this animalistic side to you, and sex becomes mind-blowing with you."

— "I can't believe I found someone with the same kinks and fantasies that I have. I love exploring them with you. I'm ecstatic seeing your eyes roll behind your head when we do things that most people could only dream of doing."

— "Your body is a canvas of our lust. I love painting you with my cum, and I feel loved when you do the same to me."

— "Seeing you sprawled on the bed, naked, satiated, and panting with breathlessness makes me want to ravage you all over again until both of us pass out."

•—•—•—•

This person truly loves seeing you fucked out, as they say. The type of sex you'll be having with your Future Spouse is truly life-changing. You'll feel touched inside and out, no area of your body and soul left unturned. And so, if you're not ready for this kind of loving, you most likely not meet your Future Spouse just yet. There needs to be a certain level of mental, emotional, and most of all, physical preparation to deal with the sexual energies they'll demonstrate unto you.

Notable kinks they might have: Water sports (lots and lots of squirting and even golden showers), Cum play (they love seeing both of yours and theirs mixed together), Leaving marks where people can see the proof of your lovemaking (Hickeys, restraint marks, etc.), Marathon sex (or going for an extra round even though you're both exhausted), Lots and lots of Oral sex (even in between moments of penetration, they might go down again and again).

Pile 2

Judgment • Page of Pentacles • The Hierophant • 6 of Wands • 9 of Swords • Temperance

— "You don't have to worry about a thing. I'll take care of you."

— "I'm not going to leave you, ever. You can relax your anxieties when you're with me."

— "I want to stay inside you for as long as you'd allow me to." (Male-presenting partner)

— "I want you to be merged with me, and feel the heat of you forever. I'm so hungry for your touch."

— "Please don't hide your body from me. You're very beautiful."

— "I'll go slow until you tell me otherwise. Tell me how fast and hard you want me to go."

— "I know I sound traditional... but I want to marry you first. I want this union to signify our lifelong commitment."

— "I won't waste a drop of cum, we'll surely get pregnant from this."

— "I want your scent to be ingrained in my mind, our lovemaking is the only thing in my mind wherever I am."

— "When I come home, I want to get a taste of you immediately. I've been so thirsty for you all day long."

•—•—•—•

Your Future Spouse is definitely a traditionalist. If you're someone who is quite freaky in bed, this pile may not be for you because this person is really keen on vanilla sex, lots of smooches, cuddling while having sex, and very emotionally intimate stuff. They're the type to shower your face with kisses mid-thrust, will probably want you to cross your ankles around their hips for maximum closeness. This is the type of spouse who loves to have cute pillow talk after lovemaking, while mapping your back with light finger caresses.

Notable kinks they might have: I don't see much "kinks" here, but they may have a thing with maintaining eye contact all throughout sex, probably also wants to muffle your moans with their mouth, and perhaps, wanting to "get to know your body" even if neither of you are really horny. It's like... they want to know which parts of your body turn you on, and so they'll probably going to be like, "hey, I want to explore your body. Let's take our clothes off, and let's check each other out." And yes, it will turn sexual very fast.

Pile 3

Knight of Swords • 2 of Pentacles • 6 of Wands • King of Pentacles • 10 of Swords • Ace of Pentacles

— "You're safe with me. We can explore each other as much and as lewd as you'd like."

— "We can take turns eating and sucking each other off. There's no rush right now, baby."

— "I'll sit back, and I want you to have your way with me. Ride me to your heart's desire, my love."

— "You're tired? Lay down, and surrender your pleasure to me. Just hold on and don't take your eyes off of me. You got that?"

— "I absolutely love fondling your pussy/dick. Feeling your wetness/hardness reminds me that it's all mine."

— "We are not done until we pass out, and your pussy/cock can't cum no more. Get it?"

— "You look so beautiful in that lingerie, baby girl. I can't wait to get you out of it." (For women-presenting people)

— "Tell me I'm the best lover you've ever been with. I'll make sure you'll never think of another after I had my way with you."

— "Cum in my mouth, baby. That's it, give it all to me. I want all of it. You're so fucking delicious, I can't get enough."

— "Seeing you shaking while cumming makes me cum harder and faster. I want to take all of you."

•—•—•—•

Your Future Spouse is definitely a switch! I know not a lot of people wants to be with a switch but your FS really knows how to match your mood. If you want to be dominated, they can be a "pleasure dom." They know exactly how to take care of you. Your pleasure is theirs, no problem. But if you're in a mood to be the one who calls the shots, they're more than happy to acquiesce to your desire to have your way with them. They're also open-minded to novel ideas of spicing up the bedroom activities, so keep that in mind to have variation from time to time.

Notable kinks they might have: Mutual Oral Sex, FemDom, Pleasure Dom (on their part), Prolonged Orgasms, Blindfolding (they want you to trust them giving you pleasure, and being under their mercy), Rigging and being rigged, Unusual sex positions, and lots of cum drinking.

Pile 4

The Fool • Queen of Wands • 5 of Cups • King of Pentacles • 4 of Cups • 7 of Wands

— "I know you want to sexually explore with me but please be patient with me. I've been hurt before, but I'm slowly opening up to you."

— "You're the only person I trust to be sexual with. I love you very much, I just want you to know that."

— "I love making out with you, the feeling of your hot tongue doing a sensual dance with mine makes me want to go all the way with you."

— "We won't do anything we're not ready for. I promise to be patient and gentle with you, as I hope you'd be with me as well."

— "I want to ride you slowly, feeling your hot and flushed body glide with mine as we share each other's pleasure."

— "Hold me tight, baby. I don't want to be parted from you right now. You feel so tight around me/you feel so big inside me."

— "I love burying my face on your neck. It's my safe space. Your smell is intoxicating, and I want to have you forever."

— "I love staying inside of you (male-presenting); I love when you stay inside of me after we both came at the same time (female-presenting)."

— "I'll kiss all of the spots you deem are ugly, for they're all beautiful to me because they're a part of you."

•—•—•—•

For some of you, either one of you or both of you are virgins. Perhaps, your Future Spouse is inexperienced because they haven't slept with a lot of people prior to meeting you. But that doesn't mean they don't know what to do; they just need practice, time, and more guidance. On the other hand, {TW!} they might have experienced sexual traumas in the past. And this is why they're afraid to completely open up immediately. Please be patient with them because they will be loyal to you nonetheless. So, give them time to get comfortable with the idea of sharing their body with you.

Notable kinks they might have: I don't really see any "kinks," but I know they put Safety and Comfort at the top of the list. They're also big on Aftercare, and would love to spoil you and be spoiled in return. Once they feel more confident exploring with you, I can see the use of Sex Toys that both of you can use on one another (such as vibrators, feathers, dildos, fuzzy handcuffs that can be easily removed, etc.)

{masterlist}

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windsweptinred · 11 months

Text

Metamorphosis Part 6

(J'ai fini!!! The last chapter is completed! 🎉But as its turned into such a lengthy beast it has been split into a two parts. So, you have part 6 here and keep an eye out for part 7 hot on its tail tomorrow!)

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Night swept to a halt as he stepped through the doorway, taking in the scene before him. The dim light from the hearth gave the room a soft, homely feel. Casting everything within with a welcoming golden tint, stealing away all the sharp edges. A grand table had been set for eight, though no one had taken a seat. Instead, the occupants of the room stood about the fireside. To the right of it, the imposing figure of his eldest brother Destiny stood, his intense focus fixed upon his little brother. Night felt an instant urge to bow his head in contrition, for some misdemeanour he was sure he had committed unknowingly. Swinging from his brother's long sleeves, Delirium cavorted giddily. She threw her head back as she noticed his arrival, gracing him with an upside down beam that he returned with a faint, grateful smile. To the left, Desire and Despair stood in their usual conspiratorial huddle, their faces giving nothing away as they took in Night's appearance.

Night cast his eyes about the room searchingly, willing one more to emerge from the shadows. He had hoped … He closed his eyes and reached, into himself, into the vast, dark emptiness that fed destruction. Felt himself coiled around the bountiful potential of creation that was Time. Forever twining together in the essence of….There. He held out a hand in invitation, and felt it pushed back towards himself, with an answer, equal parts love and reluctance. Not yet, not yet.

Death brushed past him, entering with no indecision, all wide smiles and warm greetings. Turning to him expectantly to follow. He took them all in, his siblings, his family.

As Dream, they were like paints on a great canvas to him. All of them distinct with their own purpose, yet blending together to form the greater picture. Now, he was the canvas. A part of all of them, and they, a part of him. He was the ink that formed each word of Destiny. The darkness behind the eyes at Death. The unlife waiting in each act of Destruction. The black nothingness into which Delirium espaced. And oh, the unending vastness of Desire, the unknowable depths of Despair.

He looked to Dream, who stood behind him, peering over his shoulder curiously, still somewhat hesitant to leave the security of the hallway. Dream. He saw it now so clearly. Did all not look to the Night with awe and wonder? Dred and madness. Was he not the incomprehensible thing they prized and marvelled at. And what were dreams, what were nightmares but a petite, lovingly crafted copy of that? He would always follow in his footsteps, a few steps behind.

Night prayed one day his Time would find him… And that they will be kind and good and patient. But not for a good while… He was but a New Moon. And had many phases ahead of him.

He felt a hand at the small of his back push him lightly, sending him stumbling forward. Recovering his step with speed, he swept into the room in what he hoped was a dignified entrance. Turning with a ready rebuke on his lips, only to have his annoyance melt away at the sight of Time, his hand holding Dream's, leading the young man into the room, whispering clandestinely. "OK, here's the plan. You hold my hand, I'll hold yours. And if it all goes tits up…We run at them screaming. Show them were not the least bit scared out of our wits. We've got this!"

The overwhelming urge to take both into his arms, propriety be damned, was dampened only by that space being filled by an explosive mass of colour. Delirium bound up to him, throwing her arms about his neck and hoisting herself up. Leaving Night to frantically grasp her hips in steady hold as she wrapped both legs tightly around his waist. She beamed ecstatically at him, her neon fish, swimming about his billowing locks with intrigue.

Taking his head in her hands, she kissed him with a dramatic smack upon the brow

Before laughing riotously. "Hullo brother mother!"

Night shifted his weight to set her more securely upon his hips. "Delirium." He acknowledged. Giving a slight smile as she latched onto his hair, gazing intently at the stars that glistened about it. "And I am still just your brother Del. That has not changed."

Delirium swung back in his grip, giggling hysterically as if he had said something incredibly funny or foolish. Perhaps both.

It was then her gaze landed on Time. With a squeal, she leapt free of Night's embrace, skipping up to lean into Time's face on tiptoes.

"Hello new Father!"

Time laughed good naturedly, seemingly unperturbed but her complete disregard for his personal space. "You can just call me Time, Delirium. Or Hob if you wish."

Delirium bounced on her toes, "OK Father Hob," she replied, before grasping at his shirt and tugging urgently. "I would like a crown of anemones."

To his credit, any perplexion Time may have felt at that statement did not show on his face. He merely gave her an affable smile, leaning in closer to her, as if the confusion over her request was purely down to his mishearing." Sorry, beg pardon?"

Delirium cocked her head to the side, mismatched eyes fixed on his intently. For a brief moment, stark lucidity flooded her gaze and she clutched at his wrist possessively. Before it was gone, and she twirled on her feet.

"Fathers are meant to spoil their little girls. The caterpillars tell me so. Old Father did not..But you do not shoo me away like he did. And I am the littlest of the girls. So I would like a crown of anemones." She flapped her arms towards her fish, still cavorting around Night's head." For my fishes."

Time's eyes softened and he placed a hand atop of her head, his hair flaring the exact shade of brilliant scarlet as hers. "I'll see what I can do." He promised sincerely and she clapped her hands together eagerly.

Finally, with a mischievous grin, she peaked abruptly around Time. And, with a sound of delighted triumph pointed at Dream, as if she had happened upon him in a game of hide and seek. Grabbing his hand, she hauled him forward with excitement, looking towards the others with glee.

"Look, look! … A new baby brother! All soft like happy clouds."

Dream looked back longingly to the safety of his hiding spot behind Night and Time, before looking shyly to the crowd of eyes before him. Mustering a small wobbly smile, he bowed his head in greeting.

"Hello my siblings."

Desire gave a tut, before sauntering forward with an entertained smirk. Night felt himself instinctively tense as they prowled towards Dream, only to watch as they idly tickled the young man on the nose, as one might a kitten. "Well, aren't you just a little bowl of peaches and cream?"

Despair paid no heed to their new brother, instead scowling at Delirium. "That's not how it works Delirium, you know that it! Dream stands third of seven always."

Delirium gave a sulky pout in reply, swinging around to Night and Time once more with a dramatic stomp of foot. "Then can I have a new, littler boy sibling?" She asked with a beseeching expression. "So I can still be new father's apple eyes. I am tired of being the youngest!"

A rosey nebula flared across Night's face as he blinked owlishly at her request. Beside him, he heard Time give a choked cough. Hair and skin morphing rapidly as he anxiously sought a response. The fire in the hearth gave a spluttered crackle, seemingly in sympathy with their plight.

"Delirium, enough." Destiny commanded, and the room fell into obedient silence. Walking towards Dream, he placed a hand atop of his white curls, declaring in a solem, yet soft tone, "Dream of the Endless, you are most welcome."

He gestured with his free hand towards the table, ladened with food and drink. "Come my siblings, let us be seated, " he directed. Making his way to his usual chair at the head of the table, pulling it out ceremoniously and looking at Time expectantly.

Time lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, shaking his head decisively. "Ah, no mate." Making his way instead to the foot of the table. Pulling out the chair and flopping down into it with determination. "You took the helm of this family long ago and have steered them true. I'm good here." He patted the table in front of him as if to reinforce his words.

Delirium skipped gaily to sit at his right. Legs swinging merrily. Mismatched gaze staring adoringly at her obvious new favourite.

Destiny turned to Night, a slight flicker of doubt creasing his brow. He motioned to the chair once more, inviting him to sit.

Night shook his head assuredly. "My husband speaks truly, that chair is yours, my brother." He walked to Destiny, placing a hand lightly upon his brother's wrist, careful to avoid the cold manacle that hung there mercilessly. Frowning at it with distaste, he looked into Destiny's all seeing, blind eyes. "I have no wish to be set above you. Nor be denied your unwavering guardianship of me, big brother. Please, sit."

With one last hesitant pause, Destiny did as he was bid. Night followed suit, slinking elegantly into the seat to his brother's left. As he settled his hands upon the table, he felt his Destiny lay one of his own subtlety atop of it, squeeze gently, then remove it. Neither acknowledged the other, but out of sight of their siblings' gaze, Night moved his foot. Settling it against the side of his brother's in a reserved yet intimate act of affection.

Death sat to Destiny's right, smiling proudly at her brothers. Placing one hand upon Destiny's forearm, and reaching one out to Night, she squeezed both fondly, a slight, wet sheen present in her eyes.

Time thumped the spot to his left, looking to Dream expectantly. "Dream lad, come keep me company!" The young man practically fled to his side with obvious relief.

Two empty chairs remained, one between Dream and Death. The other, between Delirium and Night. A thick silence settled over the room as all tried valiantly not to stare between Night and Desire with foreboding expectation.

Despair stayed loyally at her twin's side. One hand fiddling nervously with the hem of her jumper. The other latched supportively to Desire's sleeve. Desire moved not a muscle, eyes fixed upon the floor, silent as the grave, expression blank.

Night closed his eyes apprehensively. A great weariness coursed through him, as he let out a great sigh that drew all eyes his way. He twisted in his seat and looked to the twins with a strained but warm smile painted across his face.

"Despair." He said in a encouraging tone. "If you please, be seated by your brother, Dream." Despair sent her twin one last consoling glance, before moving obediently to sit between Dream and Death.

Looking now to Desire, Night mustered more conviction into his smile and voice. Patting the chair next to him as if tempting a distrustful stray to his side. "Desire. Would you come sit beside me?"

Desire did not move, nor acknowledge he had spoken at all. Night pulled the empty chair out further, encouragingly. "Desire… please!"

Desire's shoulder gave a slight shift, nose and mouth twitching a fraction in irritation. Then relented, moving haltingly towards Night, sliding with obvious reluctance down next to him. In a final show of childish contempt, they shifted the chair away, settling it closer to Delirium.

Further down the table, Night saw Dream gazing skittishly between them, open concern on his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before offering quietly, "I will sit with Night sibling, if you would be more comfortable in my place."

Desire looked, consideringly at Dream

Glancing to his left at their twin, then to his right, where Time sat, a look of clear disapproval maring his otherwise pleasant features. They looked briefly to their lap, before settling determinedly into their chair, adopting a laissez-faire demeanour, running their gaze idly across their perfectly manicured nails. "I am most... Satisfied here, sweet little Dream." They said languidly, before quirking their lip slightly, adding a quiet, yet sincere "Thank you."

Night looked expectantly at Desire, who resolutely refused to meet his gaze and felt overwhelmingly tired. Tired of their antics, tired of their bickering. Tired of their conflict. He had not thought all magically healed between them. But had hoped, with their words and actions in his moment of peril, that they had reached some kind of peaceful accord.

Furrowing his brows in vexation, he let out a drawn, exhausted exhale. "Desire, I admit to being somewhat confused. Your actions led me to believe you did not wish to see my demise." His eyelids drooped. "Or… was I mistaken?"

Desire fixed their eyes squarely at the empty plate in front of them, giving a non committed shrug. Beneath the table however, Night felt their legs jig in an uneasy jitter. Finally, after a loaded pause, they incinded their head towards him slightly, eyes downcast.

"I never wished you dead big brother. Not truly. I meant what I said."

Night looked at them, perplexed. "Then what is it that troubles you so? You have never been lost for words with me before. Even if only to goad and mock me. " He caught Desire's golden eyes lingering on a flowing flare of galaxies at his wrist. Before they set their gaze back upon the table.

"Is it who I am now? What I am?" He questioned awkwardly.

He watched Desire's throat bob, a look of deep unease forming on their face. Across the table, Despair reached for them, petting their fingertips lightly as Desire gnawed at their painted lip. Night reached out also, placing a tentative hand upon their siblings' chair as near to them as he thought would be permitted. Deeply uneasy at their obvious distress.

Desire flicked their eyes to him, once, twice. Before squaring their shoulders and letting out with a great breath. "You can draw my blood now without consequence."

Night reared back, aghast. Across the table he heard Death let out an alarmed gasp. Immediately reaching her hand out to grasp at Desire's wrist in an immediate gesture of reassurance. "Desire, no, no! How could you think that?"

Night starred in abject horror at his little sibling. Finally finding his voice he asked in a despondent tone "You really think…?"

Desire shrugged once more, pulling from their sisters' touch, curling in on themselves. "I have seen you dole out retribution with ease, many times. When you believed it was deserved" .

Night ran a hand frantically through his hair. Unable to outright deny their words. He heard the harsh scrape of a chair legs against the floor and looked to see Time making to rise, concern radiating from him. He lifted his hand to halt him, though much of him wished for his husband's comfort. Let them have this out here and now. It had been a long time coming.

"And you believe yourself deserving?" He enquired flatly.

Desire shrugged again, answering equally flatly. "I'm not sorry."

Night smirked ruefully at that, looking to Desire, though they still refused to meet his gaze. "No matter their cruelty, your actions have brought me here. I would suffer the heartbreak, the degradation over tenfold, for the joy they ensured. You must never regret their occurrence, I forbid it!" Night felt the familiar sting of tears at his eyes and blinked in a futile attempt to ward them off." But perhaps someday, I hope you may feel remorse at the pain they caused me. As I do for all I have hurt with my tempestuous nature. As I do for any pain I may have inflicted, knowingly or not on you, little sibling."

Desire turned fully to him in shock. Their eyes met, and Night remembered the joy and love he had once felt at the sight of those eyes. Youthful eyes that looked upon him, as though he was the most important being in the creation to them. Eyes that thought him their omniverse. Where had it all gone so wrong? He thought of Killala, and of sweet, naive, first loves. Had that truly been enough to destroy their bond?

"Oh Desire, how did we come to this?"

Desire gave no response, could give no response. And Night pondered on the futility of it all. Mind wandering to once great and shining Lucifer. And how pride truly was the ruin of all. He chided himself on his foolishness, on their shared fragile ego. Mother had been right all along, he supposed. He and Desire were too alike.

He huffed at that, leaning against his sibling, staying when he felt no resistance.

"I had all but given up that day. But I suppose you know that. Yet you spurred me to fight, begged me to fight. To desire life. You were there, when I was at my lowest." He looked to Desire, and gave a small, sad smile.. "You always have been, in your own manner, have you not?"

Desire turned to him, somewhat cautious, somewhat hopeful. He reached and took their hand in his. Feeling them tremble in his touch.

"You told me to desire life, to desire to be loved as I loved. And here I am, heart brimming with it. Can you not feel it?" Night put their palm to his breast, holding it steady, rejoicing in the accepting touch. Without, he saw Desire's eyes glow with ravenous fascination, as they leaned to him, basking in the feel of themselves permeating his core. Within, he felt himself, the great seductive darkness that coursed through Desire and Despair. Oh, the twins had much of Night within them, dark and cold yet so alluring, so easy to lose oneself to. His ruinous darlings.

"It is true I have been fortunate. But I offer thanks for that, not to the Fates" He whispered reverently. "But to you, to Despair. Who offered a brother facing the gallows comfort and will to defy."

Desire rested their forehead gently against his. And for a time, both sat and savoured the closeness. Gazing at each other with slight smiles and bright eyes. Before Desire gave a wet laugh," I am not calling you mother!"

Night let out an incredulous chucke, pulling away with a look of mortification. "I should sincerely hope not!"

Desire, seeming to regain awareness of their audience, gave an aggrieved huff. Dabbing demurely at their eyes in an obvious effort to cover their embarrassment. "Dammit you're ruining my eyeliner. You idiot!"

Night heard Death give a soft chuckle, while Delirium let out a manic giggle. A quiet snicker from across the table brought his attention to Despair, hook dangling loosely from her fingers, looking at her twin with visible relief. He smiled slightly to himself at the rare sight of her, unperturbed and serene. "Despair."

She snapped her attention to him, apprehension flooding back to her face, her posture tightening. He graced her with a kind look, saddened to have spoiled her peace. "You have a brother now, who walks a path only you have previously travelled. I know I can rely on you to guide his way with wisdom."

Despair turned from him to Dream, who had sat watching them in quiet contemplation. But perked immediately at the mention of his name and gave Despair a sweet, hopeful look, fiddling self consciously with his sleeves." I would greatly appreciate any guidance you may give me, my sister." He said softly.

Despair gazed consideringly at Dream, before nodding sagely. Turning to Night, she looked at him with an intense, unwavering stare. "I promise big brother."

Dream smiled delightedly, before leaning into his sister's side with affection. Despair started, looking at him with complete mystification. Yet slowly, her posture relaxed and she reached out, lightly running her hook through Dream's white curls. Beside them, Time sat, watching them adoringly, sending Night a look of such utter pride and devotion, Night felt himself fluster, looking away with what he knew was a completely ridiculous smile on his face.

At the head of the table Destiny rose and all eyes turned to him attentively.

"My family." He said with gravity. "We meet here in kinship to share wine and break bread together. To mourn those we have lost, to acknowledge those who are absent and to welcome those we have gained. We welcome Father Time, long missing from this table. We welcome Mother Night, who's chair has ever sat empty. And we welcome brother Dream, who meets us anew. Endless, take pride in each other this night, for this eve we start a new page together."

Eight glasses raised unified, to toast his words.

………………..

Sunet drew across the skies of the Dreaming that evening with magnificent grandeur. As the denizens of Night, unfurled his colours and heralded the arrival of their new monarch's first twilight.

From the balcony of his once private chambers, Night watched as Dream bid farewell to his siblings below, parting from each with a sweet smile and affectionate touch. Time stood stalwart by his side, genial and warm as he wished each goodbye in turn with a fond embrace. Leaving the likes of Destiny and Despair bewildered in his wake. As each departed, they raised their hands in silent adieu to Night. He returned the gesture in kind, whispering a quiet vow to each as they blinked from view.

"I will make existence kinder for you. I swear it!"

As Death, last to leave, blew him a tender kiss in parting, a breeze of dying heat and cool night air brushed against his skin. A wave of nostalgia fell over him at its touch. Memories of all being new and full of wonder. Of playfully capering around his older brother and sister. Of Mother and Father, more engrossed in each other then their small brood. Of being ever under the ever watchful eyes of…

"Dusk, I have been expecting you."

Beside him, from a rich plume of vivid, sunfire reds and deep midnight blues, a woman manifested. Dark and enchanting with an elegant bearing. He nodded regally in greeting.

Dusk bowed her head courteously. "Greetings little Master. The celestial bodies rejoice at your ascension and eagerly wish to pay homage to their new Lord. We await your command on this, your first eve."

Night sighed deeply, leaning against the rails before him in an evident show of fatigue." Tonight bid them fulfil their duties

I am weary and have no strength to play court."

Dusk bowed her head once again in acknowledgement." We shall fulfil your request with pleasure, little Master. Is there any other way I may be of service to you?"

Night looked to Time below, feeling the magnitude of all that had occurred the preceding days, finally pressing down upon him. Oh how he wished to shut himself away with his husband and rest. Before they must face the next sunrise and everything it brought with it. He shook his head and gave a dismissive wave of his fingers. "That is all Dusk, you may leave and to return.."

"With respect, little Master, I am the handmaiden and herald of Night." Dusk interrupted, with a polite yet assertive tone. Night was reminded, despite his aeons, just how young he must look to her. He glanced at Dream. We little boy kings indeed. "Where you go, I must precede." She continued. "Just as my twin sister must obediently follow in your wake."

Night thought of himself, under constant supervision once more, even that of considerate Dusk and compassionate Dawn, and felt something within him twist nauseatingly. No, that would not do.

"Your consistent presence at my mother's side was a comfort to her Dusk." He stated firmly. "But I have no such need to be chaperoned and coddled."

Dusk barely hid her disagreement at his words. Her look, one that an adult might grant an argumentative, impetuous child. Night was sure, that was exactly how she viewed him. Oh, somewhere the Fates were laughing at him.

"Be that as it may little Master," She relented, with a placating indulgence that made Night's irritation flare. " My place is by your side. Perhaps, until you are settled, I may attend you in a form more to your…Personal preferences?" She sniffed, "But I am no fanciful raven."

With that, her feminine form dispersed and in a waft of evening mists, a great owl emerged. Feathers a mass of dark, rich browns, deep, aged golds and warm blacks, which held within them the iridescent glow of the dusk skies. When she spread her vast wings, the beauty of twilight illuminated from them. Her eyes, the burning copper glow of the setting sun. She landed with easy grace upon his shoulder, mighty talons gripping gently either side of his slim shoulder. Her height significantly surpassed his head. She began at once fussing at his hair. Not in an act of comfort, he knew. But to tame it to some exacting standard known only to herself.

Night nodded his consent. He would never admit it, but the familiar weight upon his shoulder instantly eased a tenseness he had bore, ever since he had handed Matthew into Dream's care.

Looking towards the skies, he brushed absentmindedly at her feathers, relishing the warmth they left upon his fingers.

"Dusk, how was mother…" He trailed off, unsure if he truly wished for the knowledge he sought.

A period of silence followed as Dusk looked to her talons in contemplation, before she spoke carefully. "She was with your Lord father at the end. I believe that brought her some comfort." Night appreciated her diplomatic turn of phrase, even if he could easily read around it. He drooped further onto the ornate railing, exhaustion creeping its way slowly through his body, leaving his limbs heavy and numb. "You will miss her." He stated.

Dusk cocked her head, "One must not mourn the dying star. They have had their time to burn brightly." She moved closer to his head, carefully aware of the sharp clutch of her claws. Gently she rested her beak against his cheek, nibbling supportively at his skin. "You are my priority now little Master, do not concern yourself with such thoughts."

Giving him one last nip to his ear, Dusk studied him. "You look most weary little Master. The role you inherited is an immeasurable one. Does the burden weigh heavily upon you?"

Night studied the skies, his new subjects, his new kingdom, and pondered. A great burden? To be Dew Masker, Night Bringer, Sleeps Joy, Fair Lightless, Accursed Unlight.

"I do not find it a burden Dusk, it is merely different. Like looking at the same view from a new perspective. So all is just as it was before, but the image you see is entirely new."

He watched as below them, Time and Dream made their way back towards the castle, disappearing from view.

"Before I saw the wonder of it all. I could look upon a star, a human, a flower.. And see such beauty in it. Not for itself, but in how it aspired, how it feared, how it dreamt. I wove about their hearts and minds, was there in each thought, was every imagining, every fantasy. They reached upwards begging for escape and I was the hand they sought. I was being of legendary fortune or epic tragedy, and that was all I could see in them, in myself."

He closed his eyes, pleasure awash about his face." But now, I feel them, held within my embrace, within my very essence. Every writhing atom of them. Each one a tiny tapestry of myself and Time, woven by great hands. And oh, we ebb and flow within them, always dancing. An eternal dance. And it is beautiful."

Dusk puffed her breast out with pride at his words." Very good little Master, you shall be a fine Night indeed." She said with absolute conviction.

Night felt a swell of elation at her words and ran a thumb over her head in silent thanks, before straightening. "Come, let us say our farewells to Dream."

He walked one last time, through the place that had served as his innermost sanctuary. Stroking his fingers tenderly across the ebony furnishings. From the many wondrous trinkets amassed and placed about it with care, he selected but one item. A small, intricate blanket of raven feathers, which he clutched reverently to his chest.

He reached the doorway, stopping and resting his head against the frame. Bidding goodbye to the walls, the halls. Every book of the vast library. Everything from foundation to turret, before pulling away with reluctance and making his way down the fluctuating galleries of the castle. Unbeknownst to him, a tear dropped delicately from his eye, trailing down his face, swept away with a subtle shift of Dusk's wing.

"Everything has been made ready for your arrival." Dusk assured. "Ofcourse you must make as many changes as you wish to make it your own."

"We do not retire to my parents' realms Dusk. My husband wishes to return to the place of his birth to rest. And I wish to be by his side."

Dusk's plumage bristled in agitation. "We journey to Terra, little Master?"

Night raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Is that a hint of disapproval I hear Dusk?"

"Of course not, little Master." She replied with civility. Adjusting her grip on his shoulder. "I simply find Lady Gaia's manner rough-hewn. She has a plain speaking tongue, a crude humour and is too wild in her ways. She also shows little to no respect for her betters."

Night tittered, stroking her wings in appeasement. "Oh Dusk, you shall adore the new Lord Time."

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