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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him.

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun.

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?”

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that.

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices.

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly.

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again.

And again… And again.

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him.

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby.

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing.

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you.

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes.

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe.

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over.

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men.

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore.

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her.

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table.

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles?

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good.

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?"

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?"

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared.

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary.

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours.

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again.

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?”

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?”

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts.

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again.

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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Hi can I request spencer reid x reader, but reader has the same IQ as him. So she is a new member of the team and she looks all bubbly but then during a convo she spits some facts and Spencer is impressed. You do not have to do it!! I love youuu💕💕💕

You're quite used to the awkward silence that spans for several moments after you finally fall silent, the weight of your gruesome fact-spewing laying heavily over everyone. But this time there's a glimmer of amusement in their eyes, in the glances they share, and a dumbfounded stare from Doctor Reid.

"There's two of them," A dark-haired woman- Emily? Emmy? You're still shaky on names - gushes, and the man you remember as Derek groans from beside her.

"Doctor Reid has a habit of reciting textbook pages too," Agent Rossi smiles ruefully at you, "I think maybe the rest of us should just quit, and leave the BAU to you two."

"You'll fit right in," Agent Hotchner assures you, a smile uncharacteristically curved over his lips, "Reid, you two should sit together on the jet; maybe you'll tire each other out."

You share a giddy sort of grin with Doctor Reid, who seems to have a faint pink hue dusted over his cheeks. He nods, lips pressed thin and curled into a sheepish smile, "Uh- yeah, we can- we can talk. About- well, anything. Have you... ever seen Doctor Who?"

A vigorous nod is all you get in before Agent Hotchner pulls you back to your work with a stern, but underlyingly fond, "Alright, team, focus." But the promise of a blab session with Doctor Reid inspires you to speed through the case briefing, firing off suggestions and theories left and right to help the rest of the team finalize their thoughts.

The phrase 'Wheels up in thirty' releases you all, and you're elated to see Spencer hanging back while everyone else goes to fetch their go-bags. You linger beside him and he turns, a hopeful smile on his face.

"So, um- did you really want to-? To sit with me? We don't have to talk about Doctor Who, if you don't want to. Or- or anything, we don't have to talk about anything if you'd rather just... not."

"I'd love to talk about Doctor Who," You assure him, "And- anything, really. People don't like talking to me."

"People don't like talking to me either," He lets out a breathy laugh, glancing down at his shoes, "But... I think I'll like talking to you."

"Likewise," You grin, gesturing to the door, "Let's hurry and board early. We have a lot to discuss, Doctor Reid."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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oscalesoffeeling · 2 years

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ya know what. sometimes i feel guilty for needing my f/os to feel at all safe and secure and happy and loved and good enough and content etc etc in my life :(

#like i'm Not a big tough guy.#i'm just not. i'm a sickly little guy. like literally i'm super fucking sick all the time...#and i like rely on them so much mentally. ya know. i can't sleep without them bc i'm so scared of sleep and sleeping and the dark and #being alone. i hate being alone so much. it makes having alters of at least one (don't ask unless we're Actually friends)#of my f/os. bc he's usually fucking around towards the front taking care of me all day. but that has its trials and tribulations too. guy #in my head is always there (/pos and /neg. we have multitudes.)#and idk. i feel. invalidated in my masculinity *balloon deflating soundbite* bc of it ngl. that i'm the weak feminine one in every #relationship i'm in. that's some shit i gotta sort through myself. internalized toxic masculinity and transphobia.#bc it indicates nothing of who i actually am and how my relationships actually work. i'm just a feminine guy ya know.#and i see things all the time that are like (not vague bc i couldn't name names if i tried) 'all these femme shippers are detracting from #the masc shippers by being all frail and petite and feminine and reliant on their f/os!!!' as if being frail and petite and feminine and #reliant is the problem and not the sheer amount of attention more femme aligned shippers get over masc shippers in the community.#like men can be frail and petite and reliant and cry cry cry and yell and gush 24/7 about their f/os and still be masc.#the problem is when we discuss self shippers at large we usually picture a much more cishet white female crowd than what actually exists #bc those kinds of people tend to get more attention.#i'm sure there's a lot to unpack there about what makes them popular but i would prefer not to see posts that shit on #people for being frail and emotional and dependent. bc i am those things and i'm a man who is those things g-ddamnit.#i've only seen like maybe three or four posts like that but c'mon....#ellie rambles about stuff #/vent

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girlgenius1111 · 3 months

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all the same

mapi x ingrid x reader all three of you want a baby. a look into the discussions leading up to this decision, negative tests, a positive test, and the first few months. cw: pregnancy..? mentions of body image issues. suggestive.

-----

You were really astounded at the turns life took. 2 years ago, you were new to Barcelona, having left everything you knew behind in the states, working for a social media company. You knew no one, had very few friends outside your coworkers, and barely knew the city at all.

Today, Barcelona was your home, in a way no city had ever felt before. You’d fallen in love here, with two of the most perfect beings on earth. It wasn’t what you expected when you arrived in Spain, but their love was what had been missing in your life. It healed a fissure in your heart that had formed long ago, one that had been around for so much time, you’d forgotten what it was like to live life as a whole person. Live life surrounded by love.

And surrounded by love, you were. Your girls fell in love with you and never looked back. They spent every waking minute of every day loving you, and making sure you loved yourself. María and Ingrid were perfect. There was no other adjective to describe the pair of them. They were everything you needed, everything you’d ever need.

-----

It started when one of Mapi’s friends had a baby. It was a little boy, an adorable little boy, and you saw the switch flick in both of your girls’ eyes when they saw him for the first time. They’d met babies before, held babies before. They spent time around toddlers, but something was different about this. They held the boy with reverence, a quiet awe etched across their faces. They gushed about him to his parents, expressing how truly happy they were for the couple.

Happiness wasn’t the only emotion they were feeling, though. Something evolutionary in them changed that day, and they were filled with a very distinct longing. For more, for this. This special kind of love that would transform their lives, change everything.

You wanted it too, suddenly. You’d spent most of your adult life pretty neutral about having children. It was different, when you weren’t in a relationship. Now that you had Mapi and Ingrid, though, your fears of parenthood seemed to lessen. They’d be with you, so how scary could it be, really?

The drive home from meeting the baby was silent. You and Ingrid in the front seat, Mapi in the back. Everytime your gaze flickered to either of the other women, you found them deep in thought. You knew what their hesitation was, why they weren’t instantly bringing it up.

How could they bring it up? When it was very clearly, very simply not an option for them to carry? They were professional athletes, in the prime of their careers. They loved football. There was such a short time of their lives where they could play, and both of them had decided a long time ago to not sacrifice any months of their career to have a baby.

And so, it wasn’t right, in either of their minds, to bring up how desperately they wanted a baby when the only option to carry said baby would be you. They couldn't put that on you, couldn’t ask that of you.

You knew them well enough to know that this was exactly what they were thinking on that long drive home. The thing was, you wanted it to. Maybe you weren’t sure about kids before, but you definitely were now.

You’d been focused on something other than the baby, earlier. He was adorable, yes. But the way his parents looked at him? Like what they were feeling transcended words, transcended all human rationality. Like that little boy was the only thing in the world that mattered, or would ever matter? You wanted that. And you wanted that with Mapi and Ingrid more than anything. And if you could give the two of them what they wanted so desperately, and without requiring either of them to sacrifice time away from football? You wanted that too.

-----

It was almost funny, how similar they were sometimes. The three of you arrived home, and your girls each flitted off to their favorite corners of the house, leaving you rather amused in between the both of them. They were so wrapped up in their thoughts that they didn’t seem to notice the other was feeling the exact same way they were.

Mapi was on the balcony. You peeked over her shoulder from behind the glass door, and found her watching baby tiktok after baby tiktok. Honestly.

When you went after Ingrid, you were met with a slightly more concerning sight. She was wedged in between the nightstand and the wall in your room, a spot she only went when she was feeling anxious. You and Mapi were still working on getting her to come to one of you when she wasn’t feeling right, and she still sometimes found herself enjoying the tight space.

You didn’t know why she was anxious, though, or why she had tears running in her eyes as her chin rested on her knees, staring blankly ahead of her. Ingrid was an emotional person, something you loved about her, but she was normally more put together than this, unless something was really wrong.

“Ingrid? What is it?” You asked softly, sitting carefully in front of her and brushing a tear off her face with your thumb.

“Nothing.” She replied, not very convincingly as her voice shook.

“Ingrid.” You repeated, giving her a look that you normally received from her.

She sighed heavily, tilting her head back to lean against the wall. “Mapi wants a baby.”

You nodded slowly, wondering if maybe you’d read Ingrid’s behavior all wrong.

“And I can’t give that to her.” She finished, looking at you with such pain in her eyes, you wanted to reach out physically take the hurt away from her. “You want it too, I can tell. I can’t give either of you what you want. It’s awful and selfish, I’m awful and selfish, but I don’t want to stop playing football. I can’t.”

You weren’t quite sure why Ingrid had just assumed you’d both expect her to carry your child, but this assumption seemed to be tearing her apart.

“ I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You are not awful, and you are not selfish. It makes complete sense that you don’t want to lose any playing time. It’s not selfish to know what you need, and to stick to it. And, Ingrid, baby. You cannot possibly think this is all on you. There are three of us in this relationship. Two other options. ”

The Norwegian shook her head. “No, Mapi doesn’t want to be pregnant, she’s said it before.”

“Well you’re lucky you are dating a third person with a uterus.” You said, joking lightly.

“You don’t want to be pregnant either.” Ingrid said with conviction.

You blinked at her. “Why do you think that?”

“You said it. Years ago. When we met Mapi’s pregnant friends for dinner and she was pregnant, and barely sleeping, and nauseous all the time, and miserable. We left the restaurant, and you said that you could never be pregnant.”

Ingrid recounted the story like she’d had it burned into her memory for the past 2 years. You remembered that night, very vaguely. The relationship had been incredibly new, you’d had too much to drink, and you were rambling. You hadn’t meant it, barely remembered it.

“I didn’t mean that.” You began, but Ingrid cut you off, shaking her head firmly.

“No, please don’t do that. Please don’t say you’ll do it because you want us to be happy, when this would make you unhappy. I know how your brain works, elskling, I’m not letting you do that.”

You supposed this was fair, as you had some self sacrificing tendencies when it came to your girlfriends. The entire first 2 months that you dated, you pretended to like your coffee without cream because that's how both of them drank it, and you didn’t want them to have to go out of their way and buy cream for you. They were not happy with you when they realized you’d been lying.

“Ingrid, I promise you, I didn’t mean what I said that night. I’ve been thinking about it too. And I want- hold on. Let me get Mapi.” You interrupted yourself. Ingrid withdrew her hand from where it held yours, expecting you to get up and get your other girlfriend. Instead, you turned your head.

“MARÍA, VEN AQUÍ,” you shouted, ignoring the half amused, half annoyed look on Ingrid’s face. You simply grinned back at her, standing up and extending your hand down to her. She took it, allowing you to help her to her feet, and you both took a seat on the bed, amusedly listening to Mapi’s loud footsteps coming down the hall.

“Amor, speaking spanish? Did you hit your head?” She joked, walking in and smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes. “I speak spanish.”

“Sure, amor. What’s…up, Ingrid have you been crying?” Mapi said softly, catching the tear tracks on the Norwegian’s cheeks, walking forward and taking Ingrid’s face in her hands.

Ingrid was weirdly emotional today, and seeing that baby had only made it worse, had only made the issue she’d been thinking about for weeks feel worse. She bit her lip, trying to fight off tears yet again at how concerned Mapi sounded.

“I can’t give you what you want.” She mumbled. It was unlike Ingrid to be this soft spoken, sound this insecure, and Mapi looked at you worriedly, even more confused when you rolled your eyes. Ingrid was upset over something that wasn’t a problem, yet she didn’t believe you.

“You give me everything I want, cariño, you both do.” Mapi assured her.

“No, I can’t give you a baby. I can’t be pregnant, I don’t want to. I can’t stop playing for that, I’m so sorry Mapi,” Ingrid cried, leaning forward into the Spaniard’s arms. Mapi looked upset, heartbroken, there was no other way to explain the look on her face. “An she’s trying to convince me she wants to carry a child, and I know she doesn’t,”

At this, Mapi’s head snapped to you, the familiar stern look she got when she thought you were putting your needs behind theirs taking over.

“Both of you, look at me.” You instructed. Ingrid pulled away from where her head had been resting against Mapi’s chest, red eyes gazing at you. “I want this. I’m not just trying to make you happy. I want this for me, and I want this for us, I really do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Please, believe me. I want to do this for you guys, I want to do this for myself.” You spoke slowly, watching as a very cautious hope took over both of your girlfriends.

“Amor, just because we don’t want to do it right now with our careers doesn’t mean that you have to.” Mapi reminded you.

“I know that.”

“We can’t ask you to do something that we aren’t willing to do.” Ingrid echoed.

“I know. You aren’t asking. I am offering. We all want the same thing here, no? You both want a baby?”

You took in the 2 very hesitant head nods.

“I want it too. This makes the most sense, logically. And more than that, I want to do it. I want to be pregnant, I want to carry our baby. I promise you both. On Bagheera’s life.”

Ingrid looked like she was going to break down into tears again, and Mapi frowned. “You better not be lying, especially now.”

“I’m not lying.” You said seriously. “Although cats do have 9 lives…”

Mapi pinched your arm. “That is not funny.”

“Ingrid,” you whined, swatting Mapi’s hand away.

“Never mind, both of you. I already live with 2 children.” Ingrid said, but the huge smile on her face gave her away.

“We are doing this?” Mapi asked, looking between the two of you.

“Yes.” Ingrid murmured.

‘Yeah,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Mapi moved forward in a flash, wrapping you up in her arms and spinning you both around before tossing you on the bed and climbing right on top of you.

“María,” you laughed, hearing Ingrid scolding the Spaniard lightly.

“Gonna put a baby in you, sí?” Mapi rasped, her lips attaching themselves to your neck.

“I don’t think that’s possible, amor, no matter how much you want it.” You chuckled. Suddenly Ingrid’s face was next to yours, too, joining Mapi to kiss at your neck.

“It’s worth a try,” she said.

“Insatiable, both of you.” You sighed, lacing your fingers through each of their hair, relaxing into their movements.

You were doing this. And you didn’t have any doubts. For someone that always had doubt and fears, this was unheard of. Of all the decisions you’d make in your life, though, this was one you needed to be sure about. And you were.

------

You hadn’t thought much about the actual process of getting pregnant. IVF and sperm donors and doctors appointments and injections and stress. So much stress. It was insane, how difficult it was, how many hoops you had to jump through. You knew it was part of the process to have negative tests. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though, when it happened. At first, it was alright, because you weren’t really expecting it to work right away. As the months passed, though, and you failed to get a positive test, you grew more discouraged. As you sat, waiting for the allotted time to pass on your current test, you thought back to the last negative test that had been… a lot, to say the least. You’d been doing IVF for almost a year, and you couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. Was it you? Were you doing something wrong?

------

The timer rang through the bathroom, and you took a shuddering breath, hand shaking as you reached for the test. Ingrid and Mapi were on the other side of the door, as you’d insisted. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep letting them down, and you couldn’t stand seeing their faces fall when you inevitably weren’t pregnant, again. They’d hated this idea, wanting to be with you regardless of the outcome, but you’d insisted.

So, outside the door they sat, hearing the timer ring, and holding their breaths as they waited for you to read out the results. You didn’t speak for a full minute, and your girlfriends grew impatient.

“Amor? What does it say?” Mapi called through the door. Her and Ingrid strained to hear a response from you.

“I’m sorry guys.” You eventually got out, your voice thick with tears. Mapi and Ingrid deflated. They were disappointed, yes, but they’d been watching the toll this had been taking on you, and they knew what another negative would do to you.

“Open up, cariño,” Ingrid insisted, knocking softly on the door.

“I just need a minute,” you called back, trying to sound more put together than you were.

Neither of them wanted to give you a minute, but they respected your wishes, moving away from the door and over to the bed. Inside the bathroom, you stood up, throwing the test away as you couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. You splashed some cool water over your face, noting that it didn’t do much to hide that you’d been crying, before you opened the door. They had both been staring at the door impatiently when it opened, the sadness radiating off of you as you stepped out of the bathroom feeling like a punch to the gut.

Ingrid got to you first, wrapping her arms around your shaking form, holding you tightly to her. You sobbed quietly into her shoulder, feeling Mapi come up behind you and wrap herself around your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you repeated brokenly.

“Please stop apologizing, my darling, this is not your fault. It is completely out of your control.” Ingrid insisted, and you could only shake your head, burying yourself further into her sweater. Seeing you cry always made your girlfriend’s cry, even Mapi, and it wasn’t long before you were all sniffling pathetically. Still, you remained hidden in Ingrid’s shirt, even when she pulled you over onto the bed, allowing you to fully rest in her arms. Mapi sat next to the both of you, working her fingers through your hair, laying her head on Ingrid’s unoccupied shoulder.

Every time they thought you were getting close to calming down, every time you stopped crying, just a little bit, you almost instantly fell back into sobs that wracked your whole body. You cried until your head hurt, until your throat was raw, and you felt dehydrated. You cried until you were empty, completely devoid of energy and feeling.

When you finally stopped, you murmured another apology to your girls, feeling horrible for making them comfort you when they’d been just as disappointed. Both of them shook off your apologies, exchanging a look. They’d been discussing what to do if this test was negative, and they both agreed that you couldn’t really go on like this. It was taking everything out of you.

“Mi amor, maybe we should take a break.” Mapi said softly.

You flew off of Ingrid in a panic, frantic eyes meeting Mapi’s. “From us?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper, as if you couldn’t even put your full voice behind that idea.

“NO!” They said simultaneously. In a flash, you were yanked off of Ingrid and pulled into Mapi, her arms holding you almost painfully tightly. “No. No break from us, never a break from us, bebita, I promise. I meant a break from the IVF.”

You tensed, and Ingrid rushed to explain further. “Just for a bit, love. This has been so hard on you, and we hate seeing you so upset. We take a couple months off, and then we can reevaluate. You need to put yourself first, my love. You are our priority.”

You didn’t want to give up, couldn’t give up. You knew that if you stopped now, you’d never be able to start again, never be able to put yourself through the process again.

“One more try. Please. One more, and then we can take a break,” you proposed.

Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. It didn’t feel like a good idea to them, but it was your body, and your decision. If you said you could handle more, they had to trust you on that.

“Okay. One more try.” Ingrid said finally.

“One more.” Mapi agreed.

You smiled weakly at them, sitting up off of Mapi and scrubbing at your face. Ingrid seemed satisfied, but María was looking at you with a pensive expression on her face.

“One more, but only if you promise us that you know it isn’t your fault if it doesn’t work. We love you. If you can’t do this, we’ll still love you. Promise me you know that.”

You looked back at her. “I think I know. I just worry sometimes. I promise to try to remember.”

Mapi nodded. “Okay. Mi nina perfecta. I am so proud of you.”

Ingrid and Mapi took in the way you lit up at her words. From then on, they didn’t let a day pass without telling you how proud they were of you.

------

Here you sat, again, on the floor of the bathroom, the test turned over in front of you. The seconds counted down until you could look, and you felt oddly at peace. Whatever was meant to happen would happen. If it didn’t work again, you’d figure something else out. And Ingrid and Mapi would still love you.

They were, once again, outside the bathroom door, pacing this time. They both felt slightly nauseous when the timer went off, turning towards the door, freezing. It was quiet again, on the other side of the door, and they both feared the worst.

“Amor?” Mapi called.

A second later, the door flew open, and you launched yourself out of the bathroom, holding the test out for them to see.

“Positive, it’s positive,” you cried, entirely overwhelmed in the best way possible.

They each wrapped you in a hug, gentle hugs this time, tears flowing down all of your cheeks. It was positive. It had worked. You were going to have a baby. As you celebrated with them, you tried to remind yourself that the hard part wasn’t entirely over. There was so much joy to come, though, and you focused on that. One the absolutely alit with joy expressions on both of your girls’ faces. It had all been worth it, just for this.

------

No one on the team had really known you were trying to get pregnant, aside from a few people. They had left all of this up to you, assuring you that they didn’t care who knew when, as long as you were comfortable. That was pretty much it. It had been a difficult few months, and you knew your girlfriends needed the support of their best friends, so Alexia knew, and Frido knew you were trying. As such, you also decided that Ingrid and Mapi could tell them about the pregnancy first.

Telling Alexia went according to plan, for the most part. The three of you had her and Olga over for dinner, presenting her with a box after everyone had eaten. Alexia looked quizzically between the three of you, before she opened it up to find a very small Putellas jersey inside. The entire time you’d been trying to get pregnant, Alexia had teased Mapi that she’d get the baby in a Putellas jersey if it was the last thing she did, Mapi insisting the baby would only wear her and Ingrid’s jerseys. Alexia knew, instantly, what this meant, and to everyone’s shock, the blonde woman immediately covered her face, and broke down into tears.

“Oh my god, I am so happy for you,” she sobbed, hands still hiding her face.

You and Ingrid were frozen, never really having seen Alexia cry. Not like this. Olga simply rolled her eyes, placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend’s back and rubbing softly. Mapi was close to tears too, shockingly.

“What is happening?” You whispered to Ingrid, as both Spaniards tried to pull themselves together.

“I’m not really sure. Maybe I put too much pepper on the chicken,” Ingrid whispered back, and you covered your mouth to hide your laugh.

Very suddenly, Alexia slid her chair back, clambering over to Mapi and yanking her up from her own chair. She pulled her into a bone crushing hug, which Mapi met eagerly. They hugged for a while. Long enough for everyone to grow even more confused. When they broke apart, Alexia pulled Ingrid into a hug, and Olga got up too. Alexia wiped at her tears hurriedly, sending you an apologetic smile as she hugged you, too, so gently you could have laughed.

“I’m sorry, I just know how hard it’s been, and how badly all three of you wanted this, and it’s been so long, and I’m just really happy for you,” Alexia rambled. Behind her, Mapi blushed heavily, and you and Ingrid exchanged knowing glances.

Mapi had been the picture of strength the past few months. While you had cried, and Ingrid had cried, Mapi had remained optimistic and perfect. Both of you had been wondering how she was managing it. It seemed that the answer was Alexia. She had been spending more time with her, and if there was anyone Mapi trusted with her feelings, it was her best friend.

With that mystery solved, and the secret finally out, the five of you spent a long time in the living room, discussing all things baby related. Alexia really was so excited for you guys. She held onto the baby Putellas kit pretty much the rest of the night, and you were beginning to get the feeling she was having other thoughts as well. If the longing glances she was sending Olga’s way were any indication, they weren’t too far off from being parents either.

That thought filled you with so much joy. Alexia and Mapi together were hilarious, and their children together could only be more entertaining. This was one of the fun parts of growing up; getting to watch the people around you grow and change in the best ways.

------

Telling Frido went less according to plan. In fact, no one even told her.

The three of you were supposed to have her over for dinner over the weekend, and tell her the same way you’d told Alexia. You saw her before that, though, at the midweek match. It was at home, and you were in attendance, sitting in the stands per usual. Frido had picked up a small injury, and was sitting the game out to make sure she was good to go for the more difficult games coming up in the next few weeks.

It was going fine, completely normally, for the first 15 minutes of the match. You and Frido exchanged easy small talk, most of your attention on the pitch.

Then, there was a break in play, as one of the opposing players received treatment on the pitch. Frido took the opportunity to look at you, her eyes piercing as she looked down at you, almost smugly.

“What?” You asked defensively.

Frido just shook her head, turning back to the pitch. “You’re pregnant.”

“I- I’m… what?” You stuttered, absolutely baffled.

“You are pregnant.” She said again. It wasn’t a question either time, and you just blinked at her, wondering if Ingrid had let it slip or something.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re glowing. And you were supposed to take a test last week, and Ingrid didn’t call me in tears at all last week, so I know you didn’t test negative. And when you walked off the pitch, away from them, Ingrid and Mapi looked like they were worried you were going to be kidnapped or struck by lightning or something. Also, Mapi bought a parenting book, and when Jana asked her about it, she said she was ‘just preparing’. We both know Mapi doesn’t prepare for things that aren’t happening for sure.”

She really had you there. You couldn’t lie, and she was looking at you expectantly.

“Dammit Frido,” you sighed.

She grinned at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in tight. “Congratulations.”

She said it quietly, but the word was filled with emotion, and you knew that she, too, knew how hard this had been. You were struck, then, with a sense of gratitude, that your girls had such incredible friends. They deserved nothing less.

After the match, after Barça won, you and Frido headed down to the pitch. Ingrid looked confused when the Swede pulled her into a tight hug, her expression growing shocked when Frido congratulated her quietly.

“Love, we were going to tell her together,” the Norwegian scolded you, catching the attention of Mapi, who sent you a [less convincing] stern glare.

You threw your hands up in the air. “I didn’t say anything, she figured it out,” you defended. All three of you turned to Frido, who was, once again, smirking rather smugly at you all.

“You are bad at keeping secrets, all of you. I’d work on that, or the whole team will know before you’re out of the first trimester.” She said.

“Know what?” Claudia asked, popping up from behind Frido with a mischievous glint in her eyes, like she knew she’d heard something she wasn’t supposed to.

It was going to be a long first trimester, if this singular match was any indication.

------

This wasn’t to say that everything went smoothly once you were pregnant.

Things were alright up until the 4th month. You had a bump by then. You hadn’t thought that it would bother you, gaining weight, not when it was happening for a specific purpose. You’d always had a certain level of discomfort in regards to your body, not that you’d ever admit it. Dating professional athletes had its perks and its drawbacks; your girlfriend’s bodies happened to be both. Normally, you were able to push through your insecurities easily, helped by the way Ingrid and Mapi worshiped you.

Now, though, everything was different. Your whole body was changing, and you felt so different. What was worse was that you were only in month 4. There were still 5 months to go. You were really struggling. Maybe it was the hormones, too, you weren’t really sure, but letting them see you naked wasn’t an option, suddenly. You shrugged out from under their hands, you didn’t let Mapi pull your shirt up to talk to your bump before bed, and you hadn’t had sex in weeks. The bathroom door remained locked when you changed or showered, when it never had been before.

They noticed pretty early on that something was going on. At first, they thought they were hovering too much. That didn’t seem to be it, though, because you wanted to be around them, clearly, you just couldn’t stand it when they touched you too much. They brought it up to you briefly, and Mapi believed your explanation that it was a sensory thing, for a while, but Ingrid saw through that. She just wasn’t sure how to bring it up without making you feel worse. It was evident you were feeling a fair amount of shame, and you didn’t want them to know this was going on. You felt so stupid; there was no reason for you to be so upset about something that was completely normal. Your body was built for this, and yet, you felt so uncomfortable, so unnatural.

Ingrid was waiting for the right opportunity, which came a few days after you’d lied and given an excuse as to your odd behavior. The three of you were on the couch, watching a movie. Well and Ingrid were watching a movie. Mapi was squished against you, her hands roaming dangerously about your body, her lips nipping lightly over your skin every so often.

You were enjoying it, honestly, until one of her hands drifted down to your thigh, squeezing lightly. Your thighs were a body part you currently were not very happy with, and you flinched away from the contact, pushing Mapi’s hand off of you, and sliding closer to Ingrid. Mapi tried not to be hurt, keeping her hands to herself and simply resting her head against your arm. Ingrid looked down at you with concern, but your attention was fixated on the TV, so she shrugged it off.

Until a minute later, when she heard a small sniffle. She looked over at Mapi, who was looking at you. Ingrid tilted your chin up towards her, seeing a few tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” she cooed. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m sorry, María,” you cried, reaching for her hand. You’d noticed how hurt she’d looked when you pulled away from her, and that hadn’t been your intention.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t want to, that’s okay, that’s always okay,” she assured you, kissing the side of your head repeatedly. That seemed to help, and you nodded, weakly smiling at her. She returned your smile, leaning in very slowly and pressing her lips to yours. You met her eagerly, kissing her back with hunger before she pulled away, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

Ingrid was not smiling. “Hey, elskling?”

“Yeah?” You replied, shifting to look up at her. The small smile on your face melted away as you took in the concerned expression on Ingrid’s.

“You know you can tell us anything, right?” She asked softly, her thumb tracing across your cheekbone.

“Of course I do.” You told her, somewhat uncomfortably. Ingrid could sense your discomfort, but she pushed anyway. You needed to talk about whatever was bothering you.

“Then talk to us, love. Something isn’t right.”

You knew she was talking about more than just your rejection of Mapi’s advances this evening. You sighed deeply, and the Spaniard sat up once she realized you were about to talk, leaning on her elbow to look at you next to her.

“I look… different.” You said shortly.

“Yes. You’re growing a baby inside of you, love. You’re supposed to look different.” Ingrid said, attempting to reassure you, not knowing this only made you feel worse. You knew you were supposed to look different; that didn’t stop you from disliking it.

“I know.”

“But…?” Mapi prompted you.

“I don’t like it.” You whispered. “I hate it. I hate how every part of my body is getting bigger. I can’t even look at myself, not when you two are so beautiful.”

“Oh, mi amor,” Mapi sighed, curling herself closer around your body.

“I’m not pretty anymore, and you guys are going to hate how I look, and leave me, and-” You knew you were spiraling, catastrophizing, but you couldn’t stop yourself, not even when Ingrid insistently placed her hands on your cheeks, turning your face towards her.

“You are beautiful. So beautiful. You were beautiful before you got pregnant, and you are beautiful now. You will always be pretty. Gaining weight will never change that, my darling, never. And definitely not when you’re carrying our child.” She said decisively.

Mapi spoke then, her voice right in your ear as she clung to you. “I could never hate how you look, I love you too much for that. When I tell you that you are perfect, I mean it. You and Ingrid are the best parts of me, and I would never leave you, no matter what.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let the words wash over you, let yourself relish in the feeling of being so completely and entirely loved. You opened them, though, when you felt Ingrid move. She was kneeling on the floor in front of you, and her hands rested on the hem of your shirt, waiting for your permission. When you nodded, she lifted it up, letting it bunch around your sternum, before began to lightly kiss your skin, starting at your thighs, alternating legs, moving up slowly until she was kissing your bump, up to your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, and finally, her lips pressed themselves against yours. You couldn’t get over the way either woman was looking at you, with so much love and adoration. Like they were in complete awe of you.

You exhaled against Ingrid’s mouth sharply, more tears falling down your cheeks. This time, though, they weren’t sad tears. You were crying because of how well Ingrid and Mapi loved you, how they always knew just what to say, and just what to do. It was this, most of all, that you were most excited to see transform into parenthood. It was different, and new, but at its core, it was still your Ingrid, and your Mapi. The three of you, together, with a new little addition.

It was confidence in their love that had you surging forward suddenly, wrapping your arm around Ingrid’s neck, and drawing Mapi in closer by the front of her shirt. There was no room for insecurity when they held you this close, when they worked at your body like it was divine, like it was sent from heaven, just for them. All you had to do was let them in, and they’d make everything better, always. They’d do it for the baby, too, you were sure. For now, though, you needed to enjoy your dwindling time with just the three of you. And you planned to do so.

------

no part 2 to this probably, i'm pretty happy with where it is :)

#woso x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader

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breannasfluff · 7 months

Text

Fanfiction Comments: Why Bother?

Genuine question: If ya’ll like a story, why not comment?

This question, born out of previous discussions and Discord chats, is one writers have been dealing with for a long time. Feedback/reblogs on art tends to be more common than on fics. Yet writers continue to beg for comments on stories. So what's stopping people?

Don't know what to say/an emoji/script feels too impersonal

Forgot to comment

Read everything and how do you pick out one part?

Rather give feedback personally

Feels like an expectation/I owe them

Send me a string of emojis? I love it. Send a single heart? I love it. Keyboard smash? I love it. Copy/paste a "thank you for writing"? I still love it. "I don't know what to comment or how to put my feelings into words." Then put that! That's a compliment! Can't think of anything to say, then "I don't know what to write but asgfdhgf I liked it." is fine!

Seriously, I don't care WHAT you put, because it shows me you cared enough to take a few second to show that love. I recognize and look for my regular commenters, even the ones who leave just a heart or "extra kudos".

Forgot to comment? Leave the fic open on your phone or get in the habit of dropping SOMETHING right as you finish. If you had time to make it through the last 100 words, you can probably tap an emoji. It's likely more of a habit to build up than anything.

Read it in one go and it's all a blur? "I read this all in one go and it's a blur, but I loved it!" We don't need specifics; just tell us you loved it on the chapter you stopped on. That in itself is a compliment because Hey! You loved it so much you had to keep reading!

Personal feedback? Well, I'll never say no to friends gushing about stories to me! And it might not be the same for everyone, but if you stop commenting on AO3 and only tell me personally...my assumption is you don't like it enough to say it publicly. I've spent many a time wondering why people stopped giving that support and what I should do better. If it's a friend, try asking them which they prefer! We can go back and reread (and do!) AO3 comments. Much harder on discord/dms/etc.

Owing authors? Look, we put a lot of time and work into writing and providing content for free. Hours of idea planning, actual writing, editing, catering to requests, etc. My partner once said I have a second job, writing, but I don't get paid. If you read and enjoyed something that someone put a lot of work into, it's nice to take a few seconds and tell them that.

You don't owe authors comments. They also don't owe you free writing. Sometimes, you forget there is an author at all when you're reading. But there is. A real person put out a story hoping you'd love it, or connect to it. You'd see yourself in the writing and feel less alone, or cheered up when you have a bad day.

Writing is art, and all we want to do is connect with you. Comments help bridge that gap.

#fanfiction comments #fanfic commenting #fanfic writing #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfiction #writer appreciation #ao3 comments #ao3 community #writing #Ika is opening a writer support cheerleading team. The requirement is: cheerleading for the writers

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cringe-but-proud · 5 months

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Hi! You must’ve JUST posted while I was searching a tag! WELCOME to the crowd of other amateur writers who have no idea what we’re doing!

I have a request for a short fanfic/drabble! Wonka 2023 where fem!reader is a storyteller who worked in the laundry room when Willy arrives. Reader is closer with Noodle and usually tells her bedtime stories before going to sleep, and Willy comes to admire the vast imagination in the stories while falling in love, to Noodle’s joy. I haven’t had the motivation to write in a long time, so I hope you’d be up to trying to get the story out of my head!

Hi! Thanks sm for the request. Hope I could do your idea justice lol

Willy Wonka x Storyteller!Fem!Reader (Wonka 2023)

Warnings: None, I think. Sort of just a cute fluffy one.

Three years ago, you made the worst and most unforgivable mistake of your life: Taking a shower at Ms. Scrubbit's hotel.

To make a fairly short story shorter, you neglected to read the small print, leading to you being in a massive debt to her. So, for the next 5 years of your life, you'd be forced to work in a dirty, old laundry room.

You were absolutely miserable at first. Your days dragged by and your nights were mostly spent curled up in your bed crying. But, once you accepted your situation, you found a way to make the days go by faster: Making up stories in your head while you worked.

You'd always had quite the creative mind; so, weaving tales of magic and wonder was a fun way to spend your time.

Plus, Noodle always liked to hear your stories before she went to sleep.

But, recently you'd earned another fan of your stories.

Willy was the newest person who was unfortunate enough to end up down here. And lately he'd started sitting at the desk in Noodle's room every night, tinkering with new chocolate recipes or practicing his reading and writing skills, while you told Noodle a bedtime story.

But, according to noodle, he was actually in there just to listen to you. Supposedly, the moment you left, he'd turn to noodle and the two would discuss whatever story you'd told that night.

If that was true, you were honored.

One night, Noodle and Willy snuck out of the laundry room to do who knows what. And a couple hours later, Noodle returned without Willy. She told you all about the adventure they had which apparently included milking a giraffe, flamingos, and a run in with the police.

Her recount of the night was entertaining, and you were glad she's had fun. But, you couldn't help but feel a bit worried for Willy. "So, what's gonna happen to Willy?" You asked. "Is he getting arrested?"

Noodle shook her head. "He told me he'd talk his way out of it." She said as she got into bed. She tilted her head at you. "Do you like him?"

"What?" You flushed.

"Like, do you wanna be his girlfriend?"

"I-" You were about to say no, but that wasn't entirely true. You admired him. He had a brilliant mind, and he was unbelievably handsome. "Okay, how about I tell you a story?"

"So, you do wanna be his girlfriend."

"Story is beginning now."

Later in the night, you were in your own room, about to settle in for bed when someone knocked at your door.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, getting up to open the door for whoever it was.

"Hey." Willy greeted. "Sorry if I woke you up." His hair looked wet which was strange, but you were more concerned with why he was at your door.

"Don't worry, I wasn't asleep. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I was just wondering if... Uh, did you tell Noodle a story while I was gone?"

You nodded. "I did."

He seemed a little disheartened, which made you feel bad. "I'm sure noodle can retell you the story tomorrow." You offered, trying to lighten his mood.

"She could. But, the way you... I mean... You have a wonderful, imaginative, beautiful mind. And the way you tell your stories, it's amazing! You could read me a grocery list, and I'd be on the edge of my seat." He gushed.

You couldn't help but blush. "You think all of that?"

"Yes! How could I not?" He gave you an affectionate smile.

You returned him smile. "I mean... I could tell the story to you right now, if you want."

Willy thought about it. "It's alright. I think I can go without a story for one night." He said reassuringly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the offer, though."

He began to step away from your door, saying a quick goodnight before he began walking toward his room.

"Wait, Willy." He stopped and turned to you.

You walked up to him and kissed his cheek. Willy blushed. "What was that for?"

You shrugged. "To make up for the story you missed out on?" You offered.

Willy smiled and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

"What was that for?" You asked this time.

"Just cause I like you." He replied as he leaned in to kiss you again.

#Wonka 2023 x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #x reader #fanfiction

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months

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Hi I’ve seen your obey me and twisted wonderland works and it made me wondering about Levi and Idia since both of them are otakus

Hope your having a nice day

Yandere Leviathan Vs Yandere Idia Shroud

Having both of these introverted and otome loving boys to look after

If you introduce them the right way they’re sure to get along

“Idia this is the supercool gamer Levi and Levi this is the ultimate gamer genius Idia!”

“...Hi…”

“H-hello…”

“...”

“...so I hear you have games that actually pull you in?”

“And I hear you built an entire system?”

Sooner then you’ll realize it these two are going to be getting along just fine

While you might have to give them a little push

They’ll be fast friends

“Now for the first test of the anywhere-anygame-apparatus begins!”

“Ah~if this works this is going to revolutionize our teams stats!”

They’re sure to get themselves, yourself, and the entirety of the house involved

Because their such good friends it’ll be a surprise when the one they’ve been gushing about turns out to be the same person–you

“So…it’s come to this…”

“Alas I knew a man of such taste would yearn for my love interest.”

“Aye, this means we can only do one thing for our friendship to continue.”

“I agree…”

“PvP!” “PvP!”

From then on they’ll be going through a series of quests and duels as they fight over the right to nervously mull over how to get your attention

It gets intense for them

Leading to all sorts of chaos that drags everyone into their shenanigans

But eventually a time will come that in the heat of their ‘battle’ that they realize their biggest mistake

Leaving their flag—you unguarded

Letting their brother and classmates take up your attention

Unanimously they decide wiping out the competition and then fighting each other are the way to go

“Now we need to discuss our strategy against the enemy. As otakus we’re clearly had a disadvantage.”

“I agree…the place is brimming with flashy extroverts just waiting to make moves on them.”

But between the two of them plus Ortho’s innocent assistance they’re a force to be reckoned with

So don’t kick up too much a fuss when they excitedly invite you to play with them

It’s certainly not to distract you while they ‘accidentally’ terrorize the others with a new game or invention

“We can be civil….for now.”

“But the time will one day come when we’ll have to defeat one another.”

“Yes…but until then I’ll need your help on this chest.”

“You know it!”

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crowdedimagines · 3 months

Text

Roadkill - Aaron Hotchner Imagine

Based around the season 4 episode 23 titled Roadkill! I am going through a rewatch right now and just watched this one!! Also I am trying to stick to the storyline of the episode, but obviously things will be a little different in how they play out 🤩 3.6K

"How do you feel about Oregon?" JJ asks immediately after I pick up on the third ring.

"I have a feeling I would like Oregon a lot more when it isn't 3:00a.m." I tease, sitting up in bed, already knowing whatever she's calling for is going to be bad enough to to call us in this early.

"Can you be in to the office to brief in an hour? Wheels are up around 4:30."

"I'll be there!"

We both get off the phone so we can pack our go bags and get the day started, although earlier for both of us then intended. I manage to take a fast shower by the time I get out my phone is ringing again, this time it's unit leader Aaron Hotchner.

"I assume you've been informed that we have a case and we're meeting shortly." Hotch has his stern, yet tired voice on.

"Yep, showered squeaky clean. I just need some coffee and I will be on my way!" I smile, wringing out the moisture that's still in my hair and put the phone on speaker to set it down on the bathroom counter.

"I actually just made too much, I'm on my way in now. I could bring you coffee." He offers.

I pause in my actions, surprised by the offer. Although I would've been a lot more shocked a couple weeks ago. When I started with the team Hotch was going through a divorce, but in recent weeks there's been a shift in our dynamic and I'm not sure I'm dreaming it up. It all started a couple weeks back when I dropped off some baked goods after a rare long weekend away from work for him and Jack since it was his weekend to have him. They invited me to stay and I spent the rest of the afternoon with the boys. By the end of the night I was calling him by his first name instead of 'Hotch' which was a new development. Ever since it's been small gestures and looks that tell me something is different.

I've been a part of the BAU for a couple years, growing in confidence and skill the more cases I get under my belt. I spent four years in the military as a designated marksman before continuing my training with the FBI, which lead me to the Counterterrorism Division, and then to the BAU.

"That sounds great actually." I grin. Bringing me coffee to work is another new thing. Aaron has been chattier, smiling more, but coffee is a new ball park.

"Alright, I will be in around twenty. Drive safe."

I mutter back a "you too" before we both hang up. As I make my way into the office I'm the first to reach the bullpen, I came a little early once I knew Aaron was going to be in. A traveling mug is sitting on my desk and I take a long sip. It's still hot, and it's exactly how I always make it. It's also the traveling mug he almost always can be seen with. I set my bag down by my desk before climbing up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"Good morning." I knock lightly on his open door, "Thank you for this. It's perfect."

He looks up from the folder in front of him and the frown leaves his face.

"I'm glad."

I take a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. It'll be fifteen minutes before the rest of the team joins us. Hotch begins to fill me in on some of the details without going too much into it. We still have to brief as a team.

"I don't think I've ever heard of a vehicle being used as the weapon." I surmise.

"It's highly rare. I've never seen a case likely this first hand." Aaron admits and we discuss a few more aspects of the case.

Eventually the rest of the team trickles in and after some light conversation I go back to my desk. Garcia comes in stomping directly to my desk.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Kevin is looking into a working a secret job and I wont even know where he'll be!" She gushes.

"Slow down, he what?" I spin around in my chair. Garcia fills me in on the details of the job and exactly what he had said to her. The worry on her face is permanent.

"Don't worry yet. He hasn't gotten the job, and if he's offered, you don't even know if he'll take it! Lets just wait to worry once we have something to worry about."

Penelope nods agreeing with my words before moving onto Morgan's desk to do the same and I smile and shake my head. JJ pulls us all into the conference room.

"An unsub that kills with his car." Emily states, "I haven't seen that before."

"Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon." JJ replies, displaying pictures on the screen in front of us.

"Two victims in the last twelve days." Hotch adds, "First was hit on a morning jog and the second was a woman stranded after her car broke down."

"Both female victims, but completely different age groups." I speak up, "The first victim was 23 and the second was 43."

"Maybe they aren't connected." Morgan thinks out loud.

JJ pulls up more pictures and explains that both victims were backed over after they were hit. No chance of accident and the same tread marks at both scenes.

"With where these wounds are, the worst of the blow is high on the bodies." I comment looking through the file, "It has to be a truck or SUV to match these wound patterns."

"See if Garcia can follow that. Try tracking makes and models." Aaron directs.

"There should be significant front end damage to the vehicle." Spencer chimes in.

"Unless our unsub is smart enough and skilled enough to cover his tracks." I begin, "Somehow I don't think it'll be as easy as finding a damaged truck."

It's a five hour flight from DC all the way to Bend but thankfully it gives us all the opportunity to rest up again. By the time we land we can go straight to the police station.

"I think it's safe to say our unsub is male." I read over the case file, thinking out loud with Aaron. This is something new too, we often brainstorm together and work well to get the other thinking outside the box.

"I agree." Hotch nods, "Given what we know about aggressive driving and road rage."

"And the fact that men have an unnatural bond with their cars." Emily laughs. JJ chimes in to agree, which turns into Morgan disagreeing before Rossi is also adding to it.

"I think he has to be overcompensating. Why else have a need for a truck that big." I guess.

"Possibly." Spencer comments, "If the unsub is physically defective the car not only gives the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield."

"A way for him to avoid physical contact?" Hotch asks.

"He wants power and control of his victims." Prentiss shutters, "Female victims. It almost reads like an assault profile."

"I wanna know why he isn't getting personal with it then. If this is how he assaults women, what if there's something that prevents him from going a more traditional route. It's possible he's disabled." I suggest.

Hotch tells Garcia to look into it to see if anything recent could be a trigger and to look at the people surrounding the victims. Morgan and Rossi head to the highway to get a feel for it and see what they can get from it from the second victim's scene. Hotch and I head to where the jogger was hit.

"Not a lot of people jog here. It's a physically demanding hike." The sheriff informs gesturing to the trail.

"Well, she was a triathlete." I remind.

"The assailant drove behind her and ran her down right here." The sheriff walks us in to where the red stained gravel remains.

"She was jogging alone? Any woman would know if a car was following her up the trail. Her intuition would've been driving her crazy. She would get off the trail or call for help."

"What if he was already here waiting." Hotch agrees, taking in the scene, "What if she was the reason he was here and it wasn't random. He was waiting for her specifically."

"That would mean we underestimated him. It wasn't a random attack, it was planned and vindictive.

The team meets back at the station to go over what we've discovered. The second victim's husband comes in and recalls seeing a large black truck parked by their house giving us something. This confirms that he's targeting and stalking specific individuals.

"Ready be done for the night?" Aaron asks, he peeks his head into the conference room that only I occupy at this point. The rest of the team has already gone to the hotel to call it a night, but Aaron was still talking with the husband and I was just pouring over people in the area that raised some of Garcia's flags based on what we know so far.

"I suppose." I close the file I had been reading and rub at my eyes.

"It'll still be there tomorrow." He reminds.

"I know, the sooner the better though." That's something I don't need to remind him on. We both know it all too well. With an unsub this aggressive we know he isn't stopping anytime soon.

The drive to the hotel is short and comfortably quiet. Neither Aaron or myself have the energy to discuss anything as we're going on a fifteen hour day.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Aaron carried my bag in from the car to the foot of my bed in my room, even with multiple reassurances that I could carry it just fine. I give him a soft knowing smile before he leaves for his own room.

The next morning it's discovered that the unsub sabotaged the second victims car in order to strand them. He's very focused and well planned.

"We need to figure out why he's picking these women." Hotch states, "What makes them a target and links them together."

"Road rage, maybe they cut him off at some point?" I question, "Also how does he have the time to stalking these women to know their routines, sabotage a car, park and wait."

"Roughly eight percent of the United States is unemployed." Reid rattles off.

"Including someone who could be disabled and lives off of a pension." I remind from my earlier guess."

"Have Garcia look into it." Hotch states before walking away and I smile.

"Pretty girl is on top of it this case." Morgan teases with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I roll my eyes.

"Maybe it's something to do with her getting the case early and going over it with Hotch before our team briefing." Reid says with his nose already in a new file. I can feel my face turn a shade of red.

"Pretty girl is getting extra credit!" Prentiss joins in happy to tease, even adopting Morgan's typical nickname for me and Penelope.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about. I simply got in early and we were both at the office." I take a sip of my coffee, looking for any distraction, reaching out to grab a file for myself to ready through. I'm really glad that I didn't bring Hotch's travel mug in from the hotel, I still have it and I almost used it today. That definitely wouldn't go unnoticed with the people surrounding me.

Thankfully the team lets us move on and were able to brainstorm some more. Unfortunately it doesn't take long for JJ to interrupt to tell us there's been a third victim.

"Impact nearly cut him in two." The sheriff explains.

"Male victim?" I question as we arrive on the scene. The unsub hit him in a parking garage, pinning him between the truck and elevator doors. "He's getting more aggressive."

Cigarettes butts are discovered where the truck was parked in waiting. All of them stripped of the filter showing signs that he's military.

"Guys I think I know what ties the victims together." Reid interrupts, "All of the victims drove two door red coupes."

Garcia was able to look into car accidents that left someone injured enough to the point that he can't kill traditionally. He holds the person responsible for his accident for killing his loved one and his own disability. There's nearly twenty five people to still filter out off of the specifications we gave her.

"Wait you guys I think I found it." I sit up from the most recent file that had red flags, "Ian and Sheila Coakley crashed while driving home from Napa Valley on route 7 around midnight. It appeared their car was run off the road. His wife died at the scene."

"And Ian?" Rossi asks.

"He survived although he suffered a spinal cord injury."

Morgan and Prentiss go to his doctor to verify some information while we try to track down Ian. His house foreclosed after the accident.

"Track the parts for his specific truck. He's been doing his own repairs so they have to be sent somewhere." Rossi suggests to Garcia.

"Rossi gets a gold star!" Garcia sings, "He's having the parts drop shipped, I'm sending you guys the address."

"Hey, what do I get for knowing he would be disabled?" I jest, I called that from the plane.

"Nothing but my love, sugar." Garcia says before hanging up.

"I don't have a gold star, but well done Y/Ln." Aaron nods.

Arriving at the home Ian had been renting we find it empty but lots of surveillance photos of the victims and one other person who hasn't been harmed.

"Send this to Garcia now, we need to know who this is." Rossi hands me the picture. I send it to her and she's able to run his plate from the image.

It doesn't take her long to find him and contact his home, where she finds out that he's out biking with a group doing a thirty mile loop.

"Y/n, you're with me. We'll take the north side, Morgan and Rossi you start south and we'll meet in the middle." I quickly get in the passenger side of the SUV and Aaron takes off.

The biking club that target is in covers a lot of milage as Aaron speeds through the dirt road trying so hard to meet the group before the unsub does. Eventually we're closing in, but unfortunately the black truck is ahead of us and gaining on the bikers faster than we're gaining on him.

"Hold on." Aaron takes a risk by cutting Ian off before he can clip the mass of bicyclists. He does this by driving the front left corner of our car into the back right of his truck.

The airbags go off and were spun around from the impact.

"Y/n." Aaron calls. He says it a second time with more panic when I don't answer.

"I'm okay." I groan. The unsub is attempting to back his truck out of the ditch we're both stuck in to finish his mission. He took a much less impactful hit from our collision. I unclip my seatbelt and swing open my door, shattered glass falling from my lap as I stand up.

"Y/n, wait." Aaron instructs, he pulls hard on his seatbelt. It seems like he's stuck from the accident, but the worry on his face is only for me. I give him a look to say I've got this, while he continues to pull at his jammed seatbelt.

"Ian Coakley." I call out, and the man looks over to me briefly. It registers on his face that I am holding my gun and it's aimed for him, he has tears in his eyes.

"This is for Sheila." he floors it heading straight for the group that's waiting after witnessing the accident.

I plant my feet and aim for the back window of the truck, hoping to hit Ian's shoulder. Enough to stop him in his tracks before can harm anyone else without killing him. I've done enough killing myself over the years, and even with all he's done he's a man suffering with the grief of accidentally killing his wife.

The bullet leaves my gun with a loud crack, shattering the back window of the truck. He swerves but not enough to take him off the road. I let out a breath and fire again, this time sending a bullet into the back of his chair and sending his car off the road again to be stopped by a tree. I let out a huff of exhaustion from the impact leaning against the SUV.

Morgan and Rossi pull up and stop to get out and help Aaron and I after seeing our totaled SUV.

"Go" I wave them to keep driving to the unsub to see if he's ok and they do. Aaron manages to get out of the car finally, I hear Morgan call out to radio in an ambulance.

"He's still alive." Rossi shouts to us referring to Ian, they have him laying down now while applying pressure to his wound. The top of his shoulder which shouldn't be fatal, I sigh in relief.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks finally rounding the back of the car to join me where I stand, he steadies himself. I nod, finally putting my gun away, feeling how stiff my body is.

Aaron fully ignores my nod, taking my head in his hands and pulling my eyelid open to check for signs of a brain bleed. He wipes at my forehead, pulling back his hand with blood on it. Maybe we were hit harder than I thought. Damn airbags.

"I think you have a concussion-" He states, "and you might need stitches."

The worry on his face is deep. I can feel the guilt radiating off of him, he was the one driving. He's the one that chose to hit the unsub's truck.

"I'm okay!" I reassure him, placing my hands on top of his that still rest on my head. This is crossing a new line. He's never touched my face, and I've never touched his hands like this.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was reckless."

"I'm glad you did." I disagree, "If we had waited any longer he would've been able to get his last victim. There's an entire biking club alive right now because of you."

This reminder seems to help slightly, he looks over my shoulder where the crowd remains. I pull him in for a hug, both of us shaking slightly from the adrenaline. After a while we pull apart, the rest of the team arrives as well as a couple ambulances. One takes Ian away immediately, escorted with two police officers as well.

"It took two shots? You're losing your touch." Morgan teases, thowing an arm around my shoulder that makes me wince a little. My phenomenal aim has always been a touchy subject with him, not liking being second.

"I'm concussed and he was driving fast." I defend, fully knowing how whiny I sound.

"Statically of our entire team Y/n would be the only one likely to have made that shot with the variable speed that Ian Croakley was traveling at." Spencer chimes in.

"I knew you were my favorite for a reason." I grin pulling Spence in for a hug effectively shaking off Morgan's arm.

"Yeah, whatever." Morgan shrugs, ruffling the hair in top of Spencer's head.

"Ma'am, you really need to get looked at." The emt reminds, interrupting our conversation. I leave the group and look over to see Aaron sitting on the back of one of the ambulances. We both finish getting evaluated, thankfully nothing too serious that we have to delay our flight home.

"You were right about the concussion." I grin walking up to Aaron as the sheriff walks off.

"And it would seem the stitches too." He reaches out again, thumb hovering over the threading sticking out of my forehead.

"Yeah, should make fore a pretty badass scar." I tease.

"I'm sure it will." He smiles, a real smile. The Aaron smile that I have seen so rarely, but more frequent lately. The plane ride back home is quiet, everyone drained, Aaron and I just flat out sore. By the time we get back to the BAU, Aaron sends everyone home saying the paperwork can wait for the following day. Everyone clears out and he goes back up to his office.

"Not following your own advice?"I question, walking into his office. I make my way round to his side of the desk and lean back on it. The edge of my thigh just barely meeting the outside of his arm from where he sits.

"Just wrapping up a few things before." He sets down his papers, his eyes raking all the way up me from toe to head, we both pretend I don't notice.

"You know, since I have a concussion they said I need to be under observation. No sleeping, crazy delusions, slipping into comas that sort of thing. You know anyone who wants to stay awake with me?"

"I can think of someone" He smirks, "I can put on a pot of coffee."

I pull out the to go mug he had brought my coffee in a few days ago out of my tote and hold it out to him.

"Take me home Aaron."

AHHHHHHHH i hope yall like this! i haven't written in forever to it was honestly just fun to do! :)

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n

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mikachacha · 8 months

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𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: You and Bada are secretly dating but also competing against each other in Street Woman Fighter. You're in Jam Republic while she's leading team Bebe. So when she saw you perform for Hwasa choreography draft mission, she could've sworn that she lost her shit at how enticing you looked.

Warnings: very suggestive content (possibility of being a smut) and language

(A/N: I've been watching the choregraphies for Chili and damn they're all hot 🤤)

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

Being in a secret relationship is hard, but being in a competition against your girlfriend is harder. You're the sixth member of Jam Republic while Bada is the leader of Bebe. Your teams often clashed but you didn't let that come between you two. You still loved each other the same and are each other's hype woman.

To keep the professionalism up, whenever there's an upcoming mission, you guys don't discuss any competition related to each other and don't send any pics or videos of both your teams' routines even though the both of you loved showing off to each other, especially when it comes to dancing so when the Hwasa choreography draft mission came, both of you were completely blown away by each other's performance.

"Damn.. My girlfriend is so hot what the actual fuckkkk?!?" you couldn't help yourself but gush over Bada as well as team Bebe which made your own teammates laugh.

"It's like you're only seeing it for the first time." Ling nudged you while laughing and you turned to her with a pout on your face.

"It is the first time that I saw that! Well except for when we were asked to perform a little bit of our concepts to the other teams. But still! They changed some parts." You said and Kirsten only chuckled, ruffling your hair.

"I think Bada will be on your ass later after she watches you perform. We did keep the juiciest parts for this." Kirsten grinned and you couldn't help but smile mischievously at what she said. Bada is definitely in for a surprise.

When it was your group's turn to perform, you looked at Bada and smirked which she found a bit strange. It made her feel nervous and excited at the same time so she eagerly watched you perform with your group. To say that she lost her ability to think rationally is a huge understatement. Seeing you on stage, dancing so enticingly, especially when you did the floor work.. It made Bada's jaw drop. She's sure that you'll be the cause of her demise at how hot you looked.

"I want to go up there and just snatch her then go home.." Bada whined while her team members laughed. Their leader is so far gone, probably imagining all the dirty things she's gonna do to you when you get home.

"I seriously feel bad for Y/N-unnie.. The way Bada-unnie is looking at her right now doesn't look like she's gonna be resting when they get home." Sowoen jokingly said and the others agreed with her. The way Bada is looking at you reminds them of a wolf waiting to pounce on its prey.

When you finished, you saw Bada looking at you, her eyes held hunger and a promise that she wouldn't be letting you rest immediately when you get home. You visibly gulped at her expression. Oh you're in trouble. When filming finally wrapped up, you immediately went to Jam Republic's room to change clothes.

"Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" you could've sworn you passed away for a few seconds when you opened the door to go outside and saw that Bada was standing there, waiting for you. Your teammates couldn't help but chuckle at what was about to happen. They knew all too well.

"Have fun, you two! And be safe going home." Audrey shouts from inside the room as you were stepping out. You turned to look at them, glaring at each one playfully before finally going home with Bada. Bada was completely silent all the way home and it made you nervous but decided to not point it out because you know your fate is sealed the moment you stepped on that stage dancing to Hwasa's new song.

When you finally entered your shared apartment, Bada immediately kissed you. It was hot and passionate, her hands trailing against your sides while your arms were loosely wrapped around her shoulders. She kissed you like there was no tomorrow before moving to kiss you jaw and neck, leaving marks here and there which made you whine in protest but didn't really put in any effort to stop Bada.

"Oh pretty girl.. You looked so sexy earlier.. Do you know how hard it was for me to not go up there and just snatch you mid performance?" Bada whispered and those words sent shivers up your spine.

Bada led you to the bedroom and the both of you were naked in no time. Her mouth trailed kisses all over your body, making sure to abuse those sensitive spots of yours to make you moan and writhe beneath her. She loves hearing the sounds you make, especially when her fingers are working in and out of you.

"Fuck.. Bada, please.." you moaned out loud as she continued to tease you. Her fingers are just barely brushing against your spot and you're getting frustrated because you wanted her to stop teasing and get on with it. Bada chuckles hearing your plea. She could hear the frustration and desperation in your voice which she found so adorable.

"Anything for you, princess." she smirks and you were seeing stars after she said that. She was relentlessly working her fingers inside you, making sure to hit your spot every single time while her mouth worked against your sensitive nub. You're hoarse from moaning and sometimes screaming out her name as she made you come again and again before you're spent.

Bada took care of you, cleaned you up and cuddled with you after everything was done. She was placing kisses on your face while brushing your hair with her fingers to help you fall asleep. You smiled at the gesture and closed your eyes, falling asleep being held by Bada.

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #what have i done #what have i created #help my sanity

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 10 days

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Sleeping in the mansion somewhere else, beside your room, can be a lottery.

You could wake up to...

🐯 Atsushi, in his tiger form, curled around you.

📒 Kunikida, mumbling about being irresponsible sleeper, while tucking you in.

🩺 Yosano taking care of your nails, giving you a hand massage.

🌨️ Junchirou using his ability, making you think, that you are sleeping in a cloud.

👩🏻 Naomi, preparing you a cup of your favorite beverage.

🍵 Kirako gushing over cat videos.

🛏️ Katai, putting his futon around you.

🐄 Kenji carrying you to your room.

🐰 Kyouka, offering you crêpes.

🕵🏻 Ranpo using you as a table for his snacks and a cuddle-pillow at the same time.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa playing with your hands.

🦀🪢 Dazai plopping down on you, wanting cuddles.

💉 Mori, trying to take your measurements for your new piece of clothes.

🍷 Chuuya hugging you, while complaining to Dazai at the same time.

🌂 Kouyou quietly reading to herself.

🇫🇷 Verlaine letting you use his lap as a pillow.

🎧 Rimbaud using his ability to make sure you stay in a safe and quiet place.

🚩 Flags having a competition, of who can put the most blankets on top of you.

🧥 Akutagawa guarding you. And trying to put your hand on top of his head and get pets.

🔫 Higuchi trying to put accessories on you.

🚬 Hirotsu quietly talking about last big news.

🔪 Gin planning your next together time with Ryunosuke and her.

🩹🧲 Tachihara trying to sneakily hug you.

🍰 Elise drawing you a picture.

💎 Karma quietly thanking you for being the reason why Fyodor spared him.

⭐⭕ Kyuusaku building a pillow fort around you.

🍋 Kajii complaining to the fake scientific videos.

🍛 Oda petting your hair.

💰 Fitzgerald making another list of what to give you as a present.

🦝 Poe writing his next novel, with Karl snuggling with you.

🐋 Melville reading a newspaper.

🐙 Lovecraft making a hammock for you out of his tentacles.

🍇 Steinbeck watching a movie.

☕ In Annie's room, with Lucy discussing Atsushi with Annie.

🪶 Alcott leaving you a cup of coffee.

👒 Mitchell using her ability to make slight wind to keep air cool.

♊ Twain writing his book, discussing it with Huck and Tom.

✝️ Hawthorne going through library books and unintentionally making a book fort around you.

😷 Pushkin eating something, leaving an extra serving for you.

🫖 Goncharov making a whole meal for you.

🐀 Fyodor playing with your hair. Will always happen, if you sleep somewhere else, beside your room.

🦇 Bram trying to quietly ask you, how to use Internet.

🤡 Nikolai snuggling to you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

🃏 Sigma playing cards with himself.

⚔️ Fukuchi enjoying some alcohol.

👧👩👵 Teruko, giving commands to other Hunting Dogs, then putting a blanket over you, as an apology for waking you up.

💧 Jounou using you as a pillow.

🌸 Tetchou trying to feed you, while you are still sleepy. Will cuddle with you as an apology.

⛩️ Taneda playing checkers against himself.

💻 Ango doing some work and downloading something for you to watch/play.

🥷 Tsujimura writing a review about last spy movie she saw.

🕶️ Ayatsuji and his cats snuggling to you.

👻 Mushitarou mumbling about Ranpo and not letting him using you s a snack table.

⌚ André Gide silently guarding the room you are in.

🐉🍎🍏 Shibusawa making a catalog of his ability collection from the basement.

🐈‍⬛ Natsume snuggling with you in a cat form.

🤖 Adam monitoring your breathing and heart rate.

👧🏻 Aya reading mystery novels and trying to guess who is guilty.

🚸 Kousuke, Yuu, Katsumi, Shinji and Sakura playing.

🐅 BEAST! Atsushi, in a tiger form, chuffing and rubbing his head against you.

🥋BEAST! Akutagawa glaring at everyone, who dares to came near you.

🕴️BEAST! Gin doing paperwork.

📖 BEAST! Oda writing his novel.

📝 BEAST! Dazai is trying to plop on you and cuddle before OG! Dazai can.

⛓️ BEAST! Chuuya carrying to your room.

🧑‍⚕️BEAST! Mori trying to keep others far from the room, trying to let you sleep in peace.

👩‍⚕️BEAST! Elise playing with Oda kids.

🌨️👿 BEAST! Kuyoka guarding the room, while staying in the corner.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #platonic

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umbrify · 2 years

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Finally finished taking notes on all the Empires POV’s that I take notes for. My hands are dead and I am tired. Here’s some of my personal highlights from today’s shenanigans, in no particular timeline order:

Scott Smajor having the coolest “hermits join the server” moment, with the purple sky and the fog. Very cool of you

Joel vibrating at the seams because he’s so excited his friends are here and he’s trying to be normal about it

Two different hermits absolutely gushing over Gobland and how cool it is

Scar: I love the colors in here, they go together so nice! / fWhip: I’m glad you think so, because I’m colorblind! So!

Whatever was going on w Sausage and Keralis. Why are they like that (affectionate)

Sausage being So Incredibly Normal about Pearl being there

Pearl wore her season one skin holy shit

Scott explaining Pearl away by saying she’s a cosplayer. A… god cosplayer. Yep.

The fact that they clearly did NOT discuss wether they knew each other or not. schrodinger's canon <3

Sausage: hey False what happened to the clothes you got off that dead guy that one time? / False, from Hermitcraft: ….what?

The hermits acting like they know Empires!Gem and her just being like “this is fine. Act natural.”

Doc meeting Pix and Pix is like “my world is gonna get real complicated for a bit!”

Also Doc made the Hermitcraft recap joke. Incredible

Sausage casually dropping his entire tragic backstory on Keralis and Jevin and then just. Moving on completely

Also the fact that Sausage greets them both by name and then acts surprised when they know his name a minute later, despite them calling him by it for a minute or two now. Great job everyone

Xisuma, guy who is bones, being paired with Joey, guy who hates bone people

RANCHER DUO REUNION! LETSGO!!!!

Jimmy ALSO got to see his evil soulmate, his soul enemy, if you will, Grian, who won’t let him have peace in any timeline

But Jimmy has SUCH a big smile on his face the whole time, you could tell he was so thrilled they were there

Impulse: Scott! My friend! My buddy! We’ve seen each other before, how are you! / Scott: I’ve never met this man in my life

Joe Hills saying he broke his arm but he’s actually just holding a stick while having litematicia installed and he doesn’t know how it works

The fact that Scar was the first one to consider that maybe the hermits should try to figure out how to get home?? Everyone was just like “ooh free vacation :)” and did NOT question it

Grian and Impulse blasting the Hermitcraft Recap music down the mic while they chase Pix around live on stream, and then Grian including that in his video so that Pix HAS to recap himself. Absolutely incredible work boys

And an extra special shoutout to the fact that fWhip and Grian have been working this out for four months now! Absolutely incredible, I’m so excited to see more. Oh my god

#empires smp #hermitcraft #esmp x hc #hc x esmp #which one are we using I don’t know. have both.#umbrify talks

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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

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literally can't stop thing about highschoolsweetheart!au where darling is 24/7 clinging onto a slightly annoyed/frustrated könig's arm, autistically chatting his ear off about random things like cute cat videos that she saw, dinosaurs or art, gushing about how much she loves him, how utterly handsome he's looking and that they're absolutely meant to be!! 🥺 always nuzzling him and pressing sweet kisses to his face.

until... maybe he snaps and shuts her up :// not in a nice way. maybe i'm projecting here, but i've been silenced before and it did nasty things to me. (bit of advice for unknowing peeps, don't make autistic people stop rambling, if you can help it. let them down gently if you must 💌)

back to our sheep... she suddenly shuts in. doesn't chat as much as before, slowly sticking to only utilitarian stuff. avoids his gaze oftenly, gradually starting to keep her distance, stops initiating affectionate things. she still absolutely adores him, but she's hurt, heart constricting in her chest. thinks she's doing him a service by listening to his 'request' at shutting the hell up, thinking she's making him happier. she's still itching to babble, making an active effort at stoping herself from going back to her rambling habits.

how would könig feel? react?

imagine what would it be like, if after some time of this distance, at a social gathering or something, he sees a man approaching her. another MAN!! how is this possible?? and he's... he's asking her about things? looking interested in her talk, eyeing her up and down??

would you do me the honour of tormenting this poor man for me? :33

Her ramblings were cute at first, then they started to go in one ear and out the other. König has a budding tinnitus from work and only wants to rest, but she skitters to him like a lovesick cat, climbs into his lap, and starts to talk his ear off about attachment styles and some pop psychology.

The enthusiasm in her eyes is what bothers him the most – he’s hit with envy, bright hot and red, because he has no time for intellectual interests these days. There's nothing but gun oil and gym to keep him busy. He was supposed to become either a philosopher or a fighter, but since they said philosophers can’t get pussy, he chose the other option (and still got little to no pussy), sad wanker as he was back then.

He either doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about or, he would want to discuss with her about the subjects she’s into, so much in fact that it would soon become an autistic competition of its own. But the deeply ingrained memory of being called a scrawny nerd is keeping his mouth shut even now, when he’s approaching his mid-thirties.

So he tells her she should read an actual book about the subject and stop filling her head with nonsense layman theories.

It hurts; it fucking burns, the mute, helpless stare she shoots at him. She scoots away, sorely upset, and won’t come back to him before the evening fall.

There's no cute noises and kisses peppered all over his face, no dangling from his neck and prattling away about the differences between C. S. Lewis and Tolkien; no videos where a cat tries to fish the last pringles with its paw or memes that remind her of him. There's just a broken girl and a knife in his heart, but he’s too ashamed and proud to apologize.

And so she comes back to him when he won't go to her, the deep yearning always overthrowing her pride. It feeds his self loath by gallons: she's better than him, always has been.

She hugs his middle when they lie down to sleep, forehead pressed against his upper back. She’s too small to reach the back of his neck, but she won’t wriggle upwards like an adorable little worm to place a kiss there like she used to. Just falls asleep with a sigh, holding him tight.

His sleep arrives only after hours have passed, and the knife inside his heart has finally done its duty and euthanized the whole organ.

They never talk about it: but she prattles far less nonsense to him now. He nearly breaks the silence one day and asks her about the Myers Pigs test or whatever it was called, see if she would crack open from her shell and laugh. He could coax her to tell him what her newest interest is nowadays, what makes her eyes bright and shiny when he’s away. But he’s too fucking ashamed, too goddamm proud to tell her that she’s annoyingly cute when she talks so much and that he fucking loves her for that. That she’s the silliest girl he’s ever met and if he had a hat, he would take it off every time she wanted to share another monologue.

If he had the balls, he would ask if she had all this madness inside her when they were kids but never had the courage to spill it out… If he's the only person she has allowed to see this side of her without fear.

...

He returns to the party after having a smoke – a bad habit everytime he knows he's about to down a few beers – only to see she’s engaged in a heated conversation with some other guy.

Or, the guy is asking questions, while his girl is about to burst out of her dress from the eagerness to tell him everything about some new hyperfixation of hers. Something she hasn’t really shared with him; not anymore...

The knife is still in his heart, it seems, because it twists. Violently.

He looks for a weapon to defend himself: an empty beer bottle, a knife on the table, an untended umbrella by the door; his fists, ungloved. It’s just a routine check, a simple habit that was hammered in his system years ago, and of course this is not the time or the place for violence. He just… fantasizes about stabbing that guy in the liver with some blunt cutlery, pounding his ribs to pieces until his knuckles bleed with jealousy. He even fantasizes her screams when she sees what kind of a man he really is: a weak wanker who turned into a pitiful beast of a man.

These flashes take only a second or two, then he squares his shoulders and goes to get his girl back.

“How about we dance,” he offers his hand to her, palm up like the other guy was made of air – or not even that.

Her eyes light up with surprise, pure, undiluted hope, her interest in her chat companion now completely gone.

“You... You want to dance?”

His lips compress into a thin line, his nostrils flaring from the need to either claim her right on this floor or turn and beat the competing dick beside him into a pulp.

Then her hand finds his, her soft little smile pulls him back, her eyes now shining to him and only him.

It’s a slow one, the song, and he only notices it when she lifts her hands and cups the back of his neck. Tingles shoot down his spine and send a curious little twitch down his dick – even his testes pull up a notch. They’ve fucked a thousand times, and still, she has this effect on him... All she needs to do is smile and touch his neck, and his body answers; he’s hers.

“Does this mean you like me…?” She asks with a playful smile when his hands come to naturally claim her waist.

“...What?”

“You saw me with that guy and came to whisk me away.”

He tries to avoid her stare, fakes to steal a glimpse at the other pairs dancing, but it’s challenging when she looks at him like… like that.

“He was drooling all over you back there,” he mutters.

“...Oh? So you came to save me?”

“You have difficulty saying no.”

She's relaxed, while he's stiff, the adrenaline leaving him slowly and with a rising boner. It doesn't help that she's drawing little circles on his skin, right there where it tickles and sends more pulls down his cock.

He tries to breathe deep and slow, but it doesn’t really work much. There are times when he gets a hard-on from her playing with his hair or brushing a set of fingertips across his nipple, and then there are times when he really wishes she wouldn’t do shit like this. Not when they’re at a party and he almost had a temper tantrum in front of everyone.

“König… You never dance,” she says with a weighted stare. He answers it with a heavy glare of his own, eyes that should tell her enough about his true feelings for her.

There’s a thin line between love and hate, but never has he felt this undeniable truth as acutely as he has with her...

“If you don’t stop with the tickling I’m going to have to take you upstairs for a fuck.”

Her tiny little fingers stop immediately, but her eyes shine brighter than ever before. From shock, love, or awe, who knows. Then she picks up that annoying habit again, a bit too keenly to convey any kind of actual fear.

“You’re begging for it, aren’t you...?” He comments with genuine contempt.

“...Yes?” She answers with a breath of a smile, pure love in her stare.

He grunts as if tired, then scoops her up, right there on the dance floor and takes her upstairs when everyone can see.

“You like me. Admit it,” she babbles when he carries her inside some guest bedroom and kicks the door shut, with her snug and smiling in his arms.

“Yes, yes. You can tell me all about everything when I’m done with you.”

“All about everything?” She giggles as he throws her on the bed and starts to take off his shirt. Her eyes shoot to his pecs, then to his fingers when he unzips his pants. There's no lie, no deceit in that stare, just adoration and want.

“First you have to be quiet. Think you can manage that?”

She opens her pink little mouth, then shuts it, starts to nod like a broken doll.

When he eventually slides in, the poor doll whimpers, just like he thought.

"Hush," he gruffs, but doesn't cover her mouth.

He can have a little taste, a sip, a treat... Because the knife in his heart stops rattling only when he makes love to her – he does that often, even if he calls it 'fucking' in his mind.

#könig x highschool sweetheart #könig angst

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