#so much potential you can do so much with him! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

formulawolff · 2 days

Text

ii. "think about my offer" - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.8k

warnings: cursing, eventual smut, drug & alcohol usage, power imbalances, age gap relationships, flirting, banter, yearning, use of fic tropes, yadayadayada the works

prev. | next.

sypnosis: with the second grand prix of the season well on its way, there is a lot at stake. not only with the race, but other matters as well.

darkness creeps into the motorhome, the lights of the team motorhomes and paddocks illuminating the space. all around you, everything was brushed with a soft white glow.

his fingers remain under your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact. in the dim light, you can barely make out the glint swimming in his depths. what was it? desperation? anticipation? you weren’t sure.

toto was a complex man. you were well aware of that.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡

there were days where you would see him glowering around the mercedes paddock, engaged in heated exchanges with engineers. there were moments where you would watch a glimpse of his radiant grin, dimples and all, as mercedes would successfully place or land a podium. of course you had heard the stories about him and his outbursts. his mood seemed to change in a matter of seconds, especially these days.

well, could you really blame him?

mercedes had dominated the world of formula one for so long. with lewis hamilton earning eight world championships, breaking barriers and records along the way, mercedes was the top team. it was a team many drivers dreamed of racing for. when you entered the world of formula one, you could barely get one foot in without hearing the word mercedes or the name lewis hamilton.

that was until redbull had entered the picture in 2022.

now, they were struggling to even maintain second place. hell, there were some races where the team would barely make finish without crashing a car. or suffering from a malfunction.

mercedes was no longer the team. they were on the same level to ferrari and mclaren, fighting tooth and nail for those second and third spots on the podiums.

additionally, you couldn’t help but face the glaring facts. lewis hamilton was leaving mercedes once the 2024 season was complete. their integral driver, the one who had earned them their reputation, their titles, was making an exit.

was there something behind that? something more than the speculations and gossip?

however, you squeeze your eyes shut, sucking in a shaky breath.

“why do you want me on mercedes? these days i feel more like a liability to my team than an asset. i’m sure you just saw the spectacle in the press room.”

“because you’re an inspiration,” the notes in his tone are gentle, “you have inspired so many women to pursue their passions in the world of formula one. not just in terms of racing, but for mechanics, engineers, journalists. you have encouraged so many people to do what they love. you are confident. you know your talents and you utilize them. you have so much fucking potential and it makes me so irrationally angry that james does not see that.”

brows furrowing, your hand grasps toto’s wrist, pulling it away from your face, “does this have something to do with james? it’s common knowledge that you like to hold grudges, toto.”

the principal coughs slightly, “that may have something to do with it.”

“then my answer is no,” venom oozes out of your words, “i’m not some pawn to be used as a ‘fuck you’ to james for leaving mercedes. i’m not taking any part in that. i’m going to need you to leave.”

“that’s fine,” toto nods, responding coolly, “i figured you’d react this way. you are extremely close with james.”

“well no shit,” you mutter, pointing towards the door, “mr. wolff, i am going to ask you kindly once again. please leave.”

“i will,” placing a hand on your shoulder, toto locks eyes with you once more, “think about my deal, little dove. in the meantime, i’ll be waiting.”

“waiting for what?”

“if you’ll accept my deal,” his thumb massages along your collarbone, “you didn’t say yes, but you didn’t say no. i can tell you’re considering it.”

“you’re stubborn,” you retaliate, yet the pressure along your collarbone is relieving, the sore muscles relaxing, “they weren’t wrong about that.”

“i am quite the stubborn man, schatz,” toto can sense your exterior crumbling as his hand glides towards your shoulder blade, massaging gently.

“i know you’re manipulating me with your extremely good looks and nice hands.”

“and yet,” toto’s voice is low and he leans in, mouth hovering by your ear, “you’re falling for it.”

“are you flirting with me, toto wolff?”

“maybe i am,” his breath fans against your ear as his hand delves lower, fingertips brushing along your ribcage, “it seems to be working. look at you, nearly crumpling to your knees at my touch. how long has it been since a man has touched you like this, schatz?”

it takes everything in you not to let out a groan as his hand rests on the small of your back, “y-you need to leave.”

“i will this time,” he murmurs, “but consider my offer, little dove.”

a vibration on the countertop interrupts the principal. snapping out of your trance, you pluck your phone, the illuminated screen notifying you that you had a couple of missed calls, and numerous text messages.

one particularly caught your eye.

it was daniel.

i’m going to be on my way in five. i hope you’re okay. i know you probably don’t want to talk about the press conference very much, but we can just cuddle or something.

“oh fuck.”

toto towers over you, eyes scanning over your phone, “i take it that is my cue to leave.”

“your cue to leave was fifteen minutes ago,” your tone is dry, yet he cracks a smile.

“i hope you know i’m going to keep pestering you until you give me an answer. have a good night, little dove. i’ll see you around, yeah?”

“sure,” you respond. placing two hands on his back, you give him a small push, “you need to go before daniel thinks something weird is going on.”

“is he your boyfriend or something?” toto obliges to your action, the austrian beginning to stroll towards the door of the motorhome.

for him, the exit was merely a few strides. but fuck, was he sticking around. daniel was going to be there in a matter of seconds. who knew what would happen if they happened to cross paths.

similar to toto, daniel was not one to let things go.

“no!” you snap, “leaaaavveee!”

“fine, fine,” toto huffs, “think about my offer, schatz. i will see you around.”

as the principal slides out of the door, you bring a hand to your temple, massaging it.

what the actual fuck just happened?

seconds later, a series of knocks breaks the silence.

“come in!”

daniel peeks his head in, concern painting his features as he notices your state, “why are you still in your suit?”

shrugging you point to your phone, “i was in the middle of an intense phone call when you texted.”

“ah,” he opens the door, a bottle of wine in one hand, a bag in the other, “i brought food, if that’s all right? i figured you would need some after that prick grilled you in the press room.”

“can we talk about something else?” you groan, crossing over to the couch. you flop on it dramatically, earning a laugh from daniel.

“we could talk about how max adores you. i think kelly has some competition.”

“i wouldn’t say that,” you lift your head up, fighting a smile as daniel pulls a series of parcels from the bag, “what did you get?”

“something i knew the american would like,” he teases, ripping open a few wrappers, “a classic cheeseburger with fries. i hope they’re not soggy. i ordered it plain since i know how you are about condiments.”

“no shake with that?” you giggle, sitting up. wrapping your arms around daniel, you bury your head into his shoulder, “it’s a been a fucking day, let me tell you.”

“yeah?” he stuffs a fry in his mouth, “tell me about it.”

“well,” you’re tempted to spill every single detail about what just occurred merely minutes ago. however, as daniel’s gaze meets yours, you hesitate, “i’m concerned about my future with williams.”

“why do you say that?” his eyes narrow, brow furrowing, “you’ve never said anything like that till now. did something happen on the way back from the press conference?”

“no, no, no,” you respond a little too quickly, “i just – i don’t know. you of all people know how quickly things change in this environment and–”

“hey,” daniel lays a hand on your thigh, “i think you need some rest. you’ve had a real fucking busy day. we can talk about your future plans in the morning.”

“but what if i want to talk about them now?”

“you of all people know that i am not one to tell people what to do or how to live their lives,” daniel’s eyes harden, the words stern, “but you need to decompress. take your mind off racing for a minute. your life is not all about racing. you need to take care of yourself too.”

“i know,” you allow him to wrap an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in close, “it’s too much to think about sometimes.”

“tell me about it,” daniel places a peck on your temple as you nestle your head into his collarbone, “how about we eat, and maybe we can talk about it later?”

“sounds like a plan to me,” you nod, “hey, i have a question for you.”

“and that is?”

reaching for a box of fries, you fiddle with it, “are there speculations that we’re dating?”

“how do you think that went?”

james is to your right, tablet in hand. absentmindedly, you fiddle with the visor on your helmet, “all right.”

“just all right?” james queries, “you have pole position for tomorrow and you think that went just all right?”

“well,” you shrug, “we all know that max is going to overtake me, so i can’t be too hopeful.”

“such a pessimist,” james chuckles, placing a tender hand on your shoulder, “you don’t seem like you’re quite here today. i don’t want to press, but is something on your mind? you know you can tell me, right?”

there was quite a lot on your mind, actually.

in the days following the bahrain grand prix, it was almost as if your mind was a torrent of anxiety, fear, and numerous emotions. there were too many to decipher, constantly overwhelming you, distracting you from the matter at hand.

although you felt like you weren’t quite on this planet, you somehow managed to breeze past max in qualifying. it was only by hundredths of seconds, but it was a victory nonetheless. charles leclerc was behind max in the third position on the grid. alex was twelfth, which was not great but not terrible.

the encounter with toto was ever-present, consuming your thoughts whole. part of you wanted to confess the entire situation to james, but you knew that you had to keep it to yourself. this was no time to stir up any drama or rivalry between the two principals.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand drifted, how his voice shifted when he spoke to you. it was a far contrast from the way he spoke in interviews or to his drivers. it was rich yet husky, brimming with lust. there were gentle notes inflected in it as well, almost if he was admiring you. it was reminiscent of how one would speak of their favorite piece of artwork, or their most prized possession.

from his point of view, were you really a prize to be won? were you really that important? or were you the latter?

were you simply a pawn in his game?

the way he looked at you told you a different story.

there was no calculation. no coldness. there was no trace of the hardened, steely gaze he usually presented to his peers, to journalists, and to the general public.

there was simply a softness. as if you were one of his weak spots. you could remember him looking at you hungrily, as if he was taking in every single detail of the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

since the encounter in your motorhome, you had only bumped into the principal twice. once was on your entrance to the paddocks with james, where you exchanged formal greetings. the other was after the last practice session, where he congratulated you for your time, wishing you luck in qualifying.

the most odd aspect of it all was that you could count the number of exchanges you had with the principal on your fingers. most of it was formalities, either with the press lurking around, or when you attended events. there were no personal meetings before. it was all business or related to racing.

so he truly meant it when he had mentioned he had his eye on you for a while.

the only thing you could remember was an afterparty after the monaco grand prix in 2023. although max had won the race, both lewis and george had placed fourth and fifth. those were significant placements, especially on a track like monaco. you had placed eleventh, which was pretty monumental at the time.

around four a.m. at the afterparty, toto approached you. his face was flushed, cheeks tinged nearly crimson from the alcohol. the scent lingered on his breath, his hair was tousled, and a sheen of sweat clung to his skin. yet he was still utterly gorgeous, offering you a brilliant smile.

“i didn’t think the golden girl of formula one would make an appearance!”

“golden girl?”

“well of course,” he nodded fervently, the words slurred ever so slightly, “you shine like the sun. so that means you’re a golden girl!”

“mr. wolff,” your laughter was like bells, ringing so beautifully in the principals’ ears, “i think you’re pretty drunk.”

“let’s get a drink or two together. then you can really see that i’m not the big bad wolf.”

you ended up declining his offer, but he didn’t persist, leaving you to join daniel, lando, and oscar on the dancefloor. your heart was racing, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the pounding bass or alcohol consumption.

it was due to the fact that you had a tiny crush on the principal.

ever since you had sat behind the wheel of a race car, you were attracted to the principal. in your teenage years, you had dreamed of racing for mercedes, under the wing of toto. you swooned whenever you logged onto tumblr and read fanfics. you were nearly breathless every time you saw him pop up on your youtube feed.

fuck, even when you watched drive to survive on netflix, you couldn’t help but catch yourself rewinding back to the interviews with toto.

so when he offered to buy you a drink or two in monaco, you had to bite your tongue to say yes. when he entered your motorhome and had you pinned against the counter, you were a little weak in the knees. when he used little dove or schatz, it did leave your heart skipping a beat.

since that moment in monaco, things had been strictly professional. now, that line was starting to blur thanks to the motorhome incident. every time you noticed the principal, you could sense the tension in the air. it clouded nearly everything, thick and electric, sending a shiver down your spine every time the two of you locked eyes.

there was no doubt that the team principal was breathtaking. yet, he was almost thirty years older than you. additionally, you couldn’t help but think about the way the entire formula one world would react the moment they caught wind of mr. wolff and the american girl. the horrible treatment from the media would only skyrocket.

there was also the other elephant in the room.

after you asked daniel whether or not there were speculations the two of you were dating, he distanced himself. although he had said no, you couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted the world to think the two of you were together.

before, the two of you were almost inseparable. after alex, he was the first driver to welcome you to the world of formula one with open arms, often encouraging you, offering advice, and defending your name tirelessly. he was constantly reposting videos of you all over his social media, captioning them along the lines of, “look at my american girl go!” or “go best friend, that’s my best friend!”

of course, there were little rumors swirling around on social media that the two of you were an item. fans often made edits of the two of you, saying things like, “they’ll never tell us they’re dating but in my head they’re together” or “that aussie boy loves his american girl <3”

now, you found yourself distracted. too distracted. between the whole toto debacle, questioning your loyalty to williams, the benefits of joining mercedes, and daniel leaving you out high and dry, you were a mess.

a hot mess, at the very least.

to make matters worse, tomorrow was the biggest race of your season. if not, the biggest race of your life.

and god only knew what tomorrow was going to bring.

thank you so much for reading! let me know if you would like to be tagged! <3 this is going to be a multi-chapter series so buckle up y'all. it's about to get juicy!

#f1 #formula 1 #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #daniel ricciardo #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #george russell

156 notes · View notes

nixie-writes · 3 days

Note

Hi! I always wondered, how would hazbin hotel characters react to an nurturing reader? Like full parent mode and doting on everyone, Charlie is like 200 years old?? Who cares her hair is a mess and she hasn't had breakfast! Alastor would silently relish in it, I'm not sure about the rest.. - what do you think??

-everyone would react a little differently to a nurturing, parent like figure.

-Charlie finds it endearing but a little on the heavy side. There are days she doesn't want to put in the effort to fix her hair, or really do anything. So when you swoop in to help her get ready for the day, she appreciates it, but finds it a tad overbearing.

-Vaggie is already practically the mom of this establishment, but she doesn't mind extra help. You and her can trade who deals with who each day. Maybe on Monday she deals with Husk and Niffty while she handles Sir Pentious and Angel Dust, and you swap places the next day. She finds it refreshing.

-Niffty loves the extra help in the kitchen and cleaning. If she has more time to focus on that rather than keeping the gentlemen and ladies together, she's all for it. However, when you got onto her for neglecting herself and not eating breakfast she starts bawling until you give her a pancake and tell her to do better, and she nods her head.

-Angel Dust feels like he doesn't need a parental figure, in his opinion they all suck. Then again, his only experience is his father and he was a shit pie. So when you start offering him snacks during the day and tease his hair a little to be more stylish he decides some parental company can be beneficial and helpful, and even caring.

-Husk is an old drunk, he feels like he can manage himself. When he wakes up on the kitchen floor with you spraying him with a water bottle he realizes he may need some help. You set a bedtime schedule, you schedule when he's allowed to drink and you help him find his way to bed at night. He may not remember much, but he appreciates that you're doing your best for him.

-Alastor both likes and hates having a parental figure around. On one hand, you keep down the trouble and help around, meaning he has more time to sit and plan his next move. On the other hand you're dumping a bottle of warm water on him and demanding he shower because he smells like a garbage can and probably crawled out of one. He finds your antics silly, but he knows when he sees someone he can potentially make a deal with.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #husk #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie x reader #vaggie #Vaggie x reader #niffty #niffty x reader

217 notes · View notes

put-me-through-the-wall · 3 days

Text

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

Join my Taglist

Part I

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house.

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands.

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events.

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass.

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No"

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass.

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist.

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit.

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish.

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind."

"I do," he says simply.

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much.

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it.

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again.

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal.

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence.

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed."

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge.

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?"

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's.

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze.

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert.

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath.

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter.

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue.

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?"

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops.

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair.

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer.

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides.

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes.

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him.

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door.

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand.

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it.

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty.

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

@azkza @neurolept @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21 @sprokat @stark-red19

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2

146 notes · View notes

mochinomnoms · 21 hours

Note

Random thing, but between the boys who want to have children in the future who do you think are more open to have adopted children?

The question just came to me when randomly the thought "wait, what if Yuu doesn't want to get pregnant in the future?" came to mind

Ideally, none of them would mind. If it's what you want, then they are more than happy to provide! If we wanted to be a bit more realistic, there are a few where adopting might be an issue.

(I had to go through my brain again to remember who I think wouldn't have kids cause I couldn't find my post, but Leona, Ace, Jamil, and Idia wouldn't want kids so they aren't here. I can't remember if I had more or not on the list)

Kalim and Malleus are the first two where it would be an issue. Quite frankly, the people around them wouldn't allow it. The Asim family gives me the vibe of those who prioritize blood relations as family (if the 30+ kids didn't help with that already). Unless the kid was adopted as an infant and looked very similar to you or Kalim so that plausible deniability was possible, they couldn't risk it. Kalim is often dealing with death threats and assassination attempts just so the next member of the family can be the heir, if extended family were to find out that your kids (and thus next heir) wasn't blood related to Kalim, then there could probably be some legal issues with inheritance. Malleus, similarly, is under a tight leash with the Briar Valley's council that Lilia has been struggling to remove. I haven't seen much of Chp 7 so I'm working with very limited information mind you, but from what I can tell they are very traditional and extremely concerned with maintaining the Draconia (and the draconian part) bloodline strong. I feel that adoption to them would be out of the question with no hesitation. Neither of them I think would feel very strongly against it though: Kalim would see it as an opportunity to grow your happy family and Malleus I think would actually strongly relate, as he himself is an orphan. He'd see it as an opportunity to take after Lilia and give the love and care to a child that more than deserves it. If they really are set with adoption with you, then Malleus would have no trouble setting his foot down, he is the rightful ruler of Briar Valley and if he says that's his kid and heir, then that's his motherfucking kid bitch! Kalim I think would require that he's not only grown a sturdy backbone as an adult, but also a very ironclad will and testament. But it's not impossible, just very very difficult.

The next ones that would have some concerns about it would be Riddle, Sebek, and Ruggie. Riddle's case is a bit similar to Kalim's but not really. It's more so whether is family (specifically his mother) would accept his child being adopted. I think the fear of his kid being alienated from the family would be a lot for him, and I can't really gauge if I this Mrs. Rosehearts would be opposed to it or not, as well as whether Riddle remains in contact with her as an adult and still values her opinion as well. I think it would depend on the circumstances, sadly enough: if you were unable to have biological kids for whatever reason or if you could but would be extremely risk on your health, as a doctor I think she would understand. Sebek though I think would struggle internally a lot, he's not opposed to the idea of adoption at all, but he's so attached to his family name and his fae blood. I think knowing that he has a child that might not be accepted as a true Zigvolt for not being blood related (and potentially a human) would eat him up. He already had to deal with that himself (externally and internally, I'm not sure). But he's also been around Lilia a lot, and I think some positive reinforcement and encouragement from him would help a lot. Ruggie is very simple, adoption is so fucking expensive, man. That's a lot of fucking money, so he's willing to wait as long as needed to save up.

The rest of the cast I think wouldn't have any qualms about it, as there's no history or trauma that I think would affect their decision. I think Trey, Deuce, Azul, Jade, Jack, Rook, and Silver are the most eager to have a family, while Cater, Vil, Epel and Lila are okay not having any if you don't want any either. I think Floyd would greatly depend, as much as I love him, massive mood swings are not great for raising children so he'd need a lot of maturing to do, if he even wants kids (he keeps changing his mind about it, some days he's in love with the idea, other days he's pretty indifferent) but he wouldn't mind having kids with you. Silver would obviously love the idea, he's had a great experience and father, he'd want to pass that experience along to his own kid. So if adopting is an option, then why not! If it's what you want (and they think raising a baby with you is something they'd like to do) then who are they to oppose? They'll love that kid from the moment their eyes meet, as much as they love you!

129 notes · View notes

angelsknifeprty · 3 days

Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a night to remember

summary: while infiltrating the mayor’s party, arthur’s surrounded by the boring buzz of all the high society bigwigs who came to show off their wealth. while snooping around for information on a potential score, the two of you seem to grab each other’s attention.

word count: 2684

a/n: eat the rich.

ways to help palestine | operation olive branch

‧₊˚౨ৎ

arthur wasn’t exactly in his element, surrounded by all the high society lowlifes that had attended this flashy party of the mayor’s. sure, he liked robbing them, but actually mingling with them? not a way he’d prefer to spend his evening. but dutch had insisted, going on about wanting to make “real contacts”. so here he was cooped up in a carriage with dutch, hosea and bill. he had loosened up a little on the ride there, the complimentary bottle of champagne definitely helped with that. after they arrive and converse with that… eccentric signor bronte, dutch sends him off to go and mingle with the party-goers and to talk to the mayor if he can. he was certain they’d find some information here, the steady flow of alcohol with plenty to go around hopefully loosening the lips of these rich socialites.

meanwhile, you are sitting at your now abandoned table, fan in hand, your family who you had come with now lost in the crowd to engage in undoubtedly dull conversation. truly, you didn’t enjoy gatherings like this or the people your family chose to associate with. they were all scum, to put it lightly, in constant competition among themselves to see who could flaunt the most wealth. they bored you, so you chose to keep mostly to yourself during these events. you sighed, the stuffiness of your corset now painfully noticeable as there wasn’t much to keep you occupied as you scanned the crowd of people all chatting away.

that was until you spotted him, floating around between different groups of people. it was often the same people you saw at parties like this, only the rich being invited of course and none of these people were ones to share their wealth. but he was an unfamiliar face, dressed up to the nines though there was a ruggedness about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. thankful to finally have something interesting, and rather pleasant you had to admit, to look at, you let your gaze linger on him as he rubbed shoulders with some of the people littered around the garden.

he seemed different to everyone else, a charm to him as you watched him pour champagne into the glasses of some fancy-looking women. he even stopped a guy from choking on a nut, which was truly a sight to behold. thankfully for him, not many people noticed, but you did have to cover the lower half of your face with your fan as you stifled your giggles to not draw attention to yourself.

as arthur continued to socialise, he spotted the mayor in a small huddle of people by the fountain. finally, he could start getting this night to come closer to an end. as he approached he decided to scan the area just to be safe when his eyes landed on you. all dolled up just as everyone else had been that he’d seen, though none caught his eye quite like you did. you were pretty, so much so that it made him falter for a moment in what was his confident stride towards the mayor and his companions. what really got him was that you were already looking at him, though not for much longer as you looked away almost immediately, wide-eyed and a little flustered that you’d been caught staring.

he had to snap himself back into reality, he had a job to do. so after letting his eyes linger on you for just a second more, he reluctantly turned his attention towards the mayor, smoothly inserting himself into the small cluster. you silently cursed to yourself, cheeks hot after he had locked eyes with you. you must’ve looked like such an outcast, sat alone and practically sulking, and now you looked like a bit of a creep, staring him down so rudely. though you couldn’t help but look back up again once you heard the angry protests of that lowlife ferdinand as he forcefully escorted him out.

you eventually decided to busy yourself and actually talk to some people, settling on a group of women you had chatted with at some other party your family had dragged you along to. it ended up not doing much to alleviate your boredom, their choice of conversation topics not ones that intrigued you greatly. but it would do for now, time passing just a tad bit faster now you aren’t sitting by yourself.

the conversation was loudly interrupted by a sudden explosion in the sky, fireworks starting to set off as they crackled into sparkly bursts, giving the dark night sky the splash of colour it was so void of. this being the most interesting thing you’d seen all night, you excused yourself from the group before weaving your way through the crowd to get a better look. as you did, arthur had caught onto part of a very interesting conversation one of the servants had struck up, something about that damned leviticus cornwall. so he decided to tail a good distance behind him, only the path he took led straight into you.

a surprised huff left your lips as his tall frame accidentally bumped into you, your footing becoming a little unstable from the impact. but in a heartbeat a pair of large hands settled on your arms, steadying you. “woah, sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” he apologises, hands remaining on your arms until he knew you were stable (and maybe just a tad bit longer). your words fail you at first from the surprise of the collision, as well as the fact that the man you’d been shamelessly staring at was now holding you upright. “oh! it’s alright,” you finally manage to say, virtually gawking at him like a fool. he removed his hands from you once he was sure you were steady on your feet, the loss of contact upsettingly noticeable to you. but now he was in front of you, perhaps this was an opportunity to actually talk to him as opposed to silently eyeing him down from your table. but just as you were about to ask for his name his attention seemed to be elsewhere and he quickly excused himself. “sorry, i uh- got somewhere to be. but i’ll see ya around, yeah?” he said in that gravelly voice of his. he began moving away from you, taking a few steps back with his eyes still fixated on you before turning and continuing in the direction he was going. in your experience, “see you around” was just a polite parting message and nothing more. nobody ever meant to follow up with it, but the way he said it sounded hopeful, and it made your heart beat just a little bit faster. but his urgency to leave also caught your interest, and you’d proven yourself to be quite nosy tonight so after a few moments of contemplation, you decided to follow after him.

you were worried you had lost him as you weaved through the crowd, losing sight of him completely amongst all the people. but after your eyes darted around the place you spotted him turning the corner and heading towards the steps. though he seemed a lot less urgent in his movements, almost like he was waiting for something. how strange… but all it did was pique your interest more. you waited until he had continued walking to follow behind him, trying to look inconspicuous to the other party-goers as you did. you watched as he snuck into the house, that much now obvious to you as you eyed his cautious movements. it was like a game of cat and mouse as he slinked through the large house, moving to fill his previous hiding spots as you tried not to get caught yourself. you were always one step behind him, heart thrumming in your chest as you followed after him.

this was completely out of character for you, always on your best behaviour, more so to please your parents than yourself. but here you were sneaking through the mayor’s house no less, all for some man you had barely spoken to. you were struggling to pin your actions down to pure boredom, perhaps a yearning for something actually exciting in your life. you eventually found him in what looked to be a study, rooting through the drawer under the mahogany desk inside. you tilted your head in curiosity as you spied from behind the wall, watching as he slipped a piece of paper into his jacket. his illicit behaviour truly didn’t bother you, people like the mayor had enough wealth and resources that you could steal from them and they probably wouldn’t even notice. though it did become a problem, at least for him, when you locked eyes once again through the gap in the door. only this time you had caught him stealing.

you probably should have moved and acted like you saw nothing but you felt frozen in place, how exactly were you supposed to explain yourself? you felt glued to the floor as he hastily approached you, an unreadable expression on his face. “come with me,” is all he mutters as he walks past you, expecting you to follow. unsure of what else to do, you comply and follow him down the stairs, your stomach swarming with anxiety. what if you had completely misread this man? you did just catch him stealing after all. when you reach the bottom of the steps he pulls you behind one of the pillars in the room that lead out to the balcony, surprisingly gentle with you. “ya seem like a smart girl so i’m not gonna bullshit my way outta this, but how about we just keep what you saw between us, alright? trust me, it’s not worth-”

“i wasn’t gonna tell anybody,” you quickly chime in, though you hated the way your voice wavered a little as you spoke. he was rather intimidating, his tall build towering over you as he caged you in against the cool material of the pillar. “truly, steal as much as you want from these lowlifes. they have far too much to even know what to do with it,” you admitted truthfully, genuine disgust lacing your tone. he seemed a little taken aback by your words, not expecting it to come from someone that looked like you at an event like this. he seemed to relax at your words which was a relief, the sinking feeling in your stomach dissipating. “your secret’s safe with me,” you add, your voice hushed. you offer him a genuine smile, finally being able to take him in now that he isn’t rushing after someone. he was handsome, a stubble beard on his chin with a scar dotted in the centre of it. a strand of his light brown hair fell across his forehead, escaping the rest that had been neatly tucked away behind his ear. it was hard to make out in this low lighting but you could’ve sworn you saw a ring of green within those blue eyes of his.

“well look at’chu, a deviant in disguise i suppose,” he says, his words far more lighthearted than you were expecting. though it was ironic as he was in fact a deviant in disguise. “i’m just not brainwashed like the rest of these folks,” you state matter of factly. he laughs softly, nodding in agreement. “that i can see.” as you shared hushed whispers he tried desperately not to let himself admire you. he was always hesitant when it came to feelings like this, his luck in the past not being all that great. but he’d be a fool to try and deny the obvious fact that you were breathtaking, not to mention a fellow hater of the rich despite your background. he hesitates for a second before speaking, “y’know, i never caught your name-”

“there you are!” a voice interrupts the hushed nature of your conversation, an unfamiliar man stepping into view. arthur immediately backs away from you, looking almost embarrassed as the man approaches the two of you. the unnamed man turns to you, charmingly tipping his top hat at you as he greets you with a courteous, “ma’am.” you politely bow your head towards him, a sheepish smile on your face. “my apologies but i’m gonna have to steal him away,” he says before gesturing for arthur to follow him out to the balcony. and that is what he does, sending you an apologetic smile as he follows closely behind.

once he was gone you let out a much-needed exhale, your heart still pounding in your chest. you were unsure of what just happened, not understanding your desperate need to pursue this man as he slinked around the party. you moved from behind the pillar, looking through the glass doors to the balcony and settled your eyes on the mystery man once more as he spoke with whoever his companion was. you noticed as his eyes drifted back over to you, that same unreadable expression on his face. they didn’t linger for too long as his attention was snatched away again by his friend, clearly not pleased by his lack of interest. you decided not to venture back outside, taking a moment to wander into the foyer to take a breather. the air somehow felt far less stuffy in here than out there with all of your wealthy cohorts.

“find anything?” dutch asks as he leans on the balustrade of the balcony, “aside from a pretty woman to steal your attention of course.” arthur is lost for words for a moment, settling on a simple scoff and dismissive wave of his hand. “i think so, went rootin’ around and found something.” he decided to leave out the part where you had caught him in the act of stealing it. hosea and bill regroup with them both, defeated as they had come back empty-handed. but upon learning that arthur had found something, their spirits lifted a little. “gentlemen, i think we’re done here.”

you were slightly slumped against the wall, still in the foyer as you desperately waited for this party to be over. your head snaps up as you hear approaching footsteps, a group of men passing by seemingly without noticing you. you recognised two of them, the one in the top hat and him. they seemed to be leaving, heading back towards the entrance they came through. you didn’t know what overcame you but you decided to rush after them once they made it through the door. he had ended up trailing just a little bit behind the rest, his mind going back to you as they headed away from the house.

“wait!” you call out, catching his and the other men’s attention. arthur turns around to face you as you hurriedly walk over to him, your skirt delicately bunched up in your hands so you wouldn’t dirty the hem. “make this quick,” dutch says before ushering the other men towards the carriage that awaited them. arthur was surprised to say the least, not expecting to see you again after earlier. you were a little out of breath from trying to catch up with them, your words soft yet pressing as you hurriedly spoke. “um... you said earlier that you’d see me around. did you… did you mean it?” he looked dumbfounded, you were actually hoping to see him again? “i mean… i’d like to,” he replies, finally letting himself admit defeat against his better judgement. “i never got your name,” you remember. how spontaneous of you to be chasing after a man you didn’t even know the name of.

“arthur, arthur morgan.” you repeat his name back to yourself, committing it to memory. you were hopeful that this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you met, something about him captivating you from the start. “well arthur, i hope to see you again soon.” his name sounded almost unbearably sweet falling from your lips, and though he thought himself an idiot for it, he knew he’d do anything to hear it again.

a/n: aaaa arthur + southern belle is my fave thing ever ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა i hope you enjoyed !! mwah xoxo

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2

106 notes · View notes

krushedstars · 3 days

Text

HOW THEY FALL IN LOVE

‧₊˚ ┊fandom ... naruto. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ ft. ... kakashi, shisui, sasuke x gn!reader. ‧₊˚ ┊genre ... headcanon. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ content ... fluff. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ word count ... 300 each // 900 total.

kakashi

slowly and deeply.

like the first snow of the year, kakashi's love appeared like a snowflake: a little shy, a little nervous, not knowing what outcome it would have if he decided to let it grow. feelings were something that kakashi couldn't decipher, spending much of his life closed in a bubble, taking refuge of trivialities like emotions. as such, love emerged slowly, starting a small spark in his heart, gently warming what kakashi insisted on keeping cold, frozen; he didn't realize the feeling was born, nor did he realize that something else was growing inside him — without noticing, love made its home in his heart, taking over all his feelings.

it would be confusing for kakashi at first, not understanding why he wanted to talk to you so much every day, not understanding why your daily presence made him so calm, so safe; but with each day that passed, with each smile of yours, with each word of yours, the spark in kakashi grew, consuming his heart in an invisible burning fire that encouraged him to walk towards you, to talk to you, to be by your side. it was love. eventually, kakashi would realize it was love. all the nervousness in him, all the joy that was strange to him, all the comfort he felt with you was due to that feeling — and kakashi knew that, with you, his heart was safe.

“i confess that i am new in this field. love is too strong a feeling for me to feel, for me to mention it out loud. but with you, in the comfort of your existence and in the security of your essence, i feel protected. i'm not afraid to allow myself to feel this emotion, because i know that by your side, in your arms, my heart will never be destroyed.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

shisui

openly and enthusiastically.

shisui was passionate about life, completely fascinated by the small beauties that made the world a wonderful place to live; and, among so many beauties and charms, what excited shisui most was being able to feel. any type of emotion made shisui excited about the possibilities of thoughts and actions he could do — shisui liked to experiment, live all emotions as if tomorrow would drain him of the ability to feel. as such, love was no exception—but it was incomparable. in the curves of your smiles, shisui saw his tranquility; in the melody of your laughter, shisui saw his comfort; in the tenderness of your words, shisui saw his future.

you and only you. the one who managed to instill in shisui the feeling he needed to acquire; one who managed to hold shisui's heart with the care of protecting it; one that, without realizing it, became essential to shisui. and he was excited, elated, finally someone — finally someone he could experience life with. shisui allowed himself to fall into the webs of love without any struggle, guided by your essence, tied to your soul; and he knew he was safe, that that feeling would only grow as time went by, because he couldn't imagine a more beautiful charm in the world than being loved by you.

“i know that i am too optimistic sometimes and that i am fascinated by the most insignificant details of life. but i can assure you that this love that i feel, that this feeling that consumes me so passionately, is the only beauty in the world for me. you are the one who beautifies my life and it is this feeling that will bind me to you forever.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

sasuke

reluctantly and silently.

sasuke didn't want to feel. throughout his life, sasuke had only one certainty: feeling love was something insignificant, something that held you back and prevented you from reaching your full potential. so when your hands became warmer in his, when your eyes became brighter on dreary days, when your presence became more essential to sasuke, he knew what he had to do — against all the waves of passion, rowing furiously against the tide, sasuke suppressed everything he felt for you, not wanting to know about your smiles, your stories, you. but it was useless, the harm was already done.

like a seed planted in his heart, your soul grew roots in sasuke, wrapping his core in a flowery embrace of passion and tenderness. he was completely in love, even though he didn't want to admit it. sasuke was completely surrendered to you and your unique way of being — it was impossible for him to control what had already expanded throughout his body and mind, it was impossible for him to fight against what destiny wanted for him; as such, sasuke just let himself go. in a small rowboat, in the tumultuous ocean that was love, sasuke allowed the current to take him along uncertain and unknown paths, ending up discovering himself in you.

“i don’t want to admit it. and i won't even admit it. but i want you to know, i need you to know, that everything i am, everything i became, was because of you. you are the creator of my essence, the true light of my soul. and i hope you know that with me here you will never need to worry about the wickedness of the world. i will always be here for you.”

ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ feedback is appreciated ♡

#garden of naruto 𐙚₊‧₊˚#kakashi x reader #kakashi headcanons #shisui x reader #shisui headcanons #sasuke x reader #sasuke headcanons #kakashi fluff #shisui fluff #sasuke fluff #kakashi imagines #shisui imagines #sasuke imagines

83 notes · View notes

riririnnnn · 2 days

Text

I'm so excited to see this being animated in S2:

I don't know 'bout you, but for me, this is one of the hottest panel of Kaiser.

However, it also got me thinking: Who is he even talking to?

Of course, an obvious answer is his management team or coach, but why were they even calling him? I mean, the above panel was shown right after the U-20 match ended and at that time, Blue Lock being converted into an entertainment program was yet to be discussed, so why would the management even call him for? And even if they did for whatever reason, why would the [Kaiser] panel be shown right below a group of men who were most likely investors or club owners:

Another answer can be the PIFA President, and I do think that they have some kind of business/formal relation to eachother.

However, if you follow my crazy mind, then I think this was the person who was in call with him:

Firstly, they both are a part of New Generation World 11, so obviously they know eachother.

Secondly, Sae was the main reason why U-20 Team Vs Blue Lock match was so hyped/popular in their Universe—Aiku literally said that he felt bad for Sae 'cause he was getting used like some kind of theme park attraction.

Thirdly and most importantly.. it fits well into the theory that Kaiser crushed Sae's dreams.

Kaiser crushing Sae's dreams must've been one of his highest achievement of that time, so he would've liked to keep tabs on Sae, so he MAY have known about the latter's reason for staying in Japan.

So MAYBE after that match was over, Kaiser contacted Sae or vice versa and THAT was when Sae told him about Isagi.

Why?

Because Sae thinks that Isagi is the potential Japan needs!

Sae might've even gone as far as to say that Isagi will be the one crushing Kaiser just like he did to Sae! This reasoning adds on more to why Kaiser was so riled up to crush Isagi since the start of NEL.

But, even though it sounds pretty Blue Lock-esque, it still seems a bit far-fetched—maybe that panel just doesn't have much significance? It was fun to cook up this though!

What do you guys think?

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock theory #bllk theory #michael kaiser #itoshi sae #雪 ranting

77 notes · View notes

allysunny · 2 days

Text

Lover, Everything I Do, I Do It for the Love of You

Pairing: Yandere!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your marriage to Aaron seemed like a dream come true. But beneath his loving facade lies a dark obsession, which you find out too late. As Aaron's controlling nature turns more abusive, you're forced to confront the nightmare your life has become. How much longer will you be able to endure his twisted version of "love"?

Words: 13k words

Warnings: Yandere, controlling, obsessive and abusive behaviour. Probably OOC Aaron, but, well, it's kind of the point. I'm not joking here, this is terrifying. No happy endings here. Abusive relationship, emotional blackmail, emotional and physical abuse, gaslighting, Aaron is terrible in this one, I'm so sorry, physical violence, angst, lots of crying, mentions of pregnancy. If I forgot anything, do let me know!!!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Oh my god, I have finally posted the yandere!hotch fic. I'm sorry it took me so long, I had this one stupid exam I had to study for - I studied like a bitch okay, please pray for me, I hope I get a good grade.

Anyways, here it is!!! I'm very proud of this one - I've had this specific scenario in my head for a while and I really wanted to write it out. I'm also aware of the fact that Aaron being abusive and controlling and posessive might be extremely OOC, but I just really wanted to explore a potential darker version of him.

I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

You were reading on your couch when the front door opened, causing you to look up in anticipation.

That’s how you usually passed the time, nowadays. Reading. You had other hobbies, sure. Things like baking and knitting and crocheting and gardening and pottery and probably dozens of others you could name. Things that kept you busy while you were home. Things that kept you from missing him too much when he was gone. Things that kept you from going insane. But he’d just arrived, so your book was quickly discarded on top of the couch, and your feet brought you to him, almost as if second nature – because it probably was. You’d always find your way to Aaron Hotchner.

“Welcome home!” you all but exclaiming, throwing your arms around his neck. He reciprocated the gesture, although opting to wrap his around your waist, as his head dropped to the crook of your neck.

“Hello, dear,” he whispered against your skin, shoulders dropping in relief. Aaron loved coming home to you. He loved coming to you – his home. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you ran your fingers through his hair, happy to hold him so close after such few long days. You missed him so much every time he was gone, so cherishing the moments when he was home was a must. “Thought about you all the time.”

“Really? Because I thought about you the whole time,” Aaron replied, pushing away from you to kiss the top of your forehead. He smelled like cologne and exhaustion, like the dangers of his work, a smell you were far too familiar with by now. “How about I take a quick shower and then you can tell me all about your week?”

You nodded excitedly, sending your husband off to clean himself while you got the kitchen ready for dinner. You usually ate at around seven, and it was nearly six, so if you wanted to spend some time in the couch talking to Aaron, you had to at least get everything ready. You heard the water running and smiled to yourself – how nice it was to have him home after so many days all by yourself. You prepared the ingredients and placed every tool exactly where it should be, so you could quickly get to making dinner.

In a few minutes, your husband was back, wearing a simple black shirt (that hugged his arms incredibly well, making your mouth water at the sight), and a pair of loose grey sweatpants. You loved seeing him like this – Not the fearless SSA Aaron Hotchner, nor the stoic Unit Chief, nor the commanding Agent Hotchner. He was simply Aaron, sweet, sweet Aaron who discarded his suits for comfortable sweats, who switched crime for a night of cooking and dancing in the kitchen with you, who would protect you and keep you safe all his life.

“Welcome back, handsome,” you smiled at him as he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist, effectively trapping you against the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, beautiful.” Aaron raised his hand to caress your cheek and you leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “So, tell me. How was your day?”

You told him all about it.

How after he left, you cooked a massive breakfast spread for yourself, preparing different kinds of toasts, jams, sides, and drinks. After you were done, you sat outside, bathing in the soft morning sunlight, a toast in your hand, and your newest book acquisition in the other. You told him how you did some nice spring cleaning, dusting off the windows and the cabinets to keep the dust and cobwebs out. You told him about your lunch, which you gobbled up happily as you caught up on your favourite show, and how in the afternoon, you alternated between sewing and reading and painting, and the other thousand hobbies you had.

You loved Aaron. You really did. He was your husband, the love of your life, the only person you wanted to spend eternity with. You loved waking up to him and feeling his arms around you as you fell asleep. You’d jump in front of a train for him, take a bullet for him, and you would spend the rest of your lives together showing him just how much you did truly love him. He was your soulmate.

“Did you leave the house?” he asked softly, hand still caressing the soft skin of your cheek.

You loved Aaron. You really did.

“No.”

That’s why you lied.

Aaron was protective. He’d lost coworkers, friends, and his ex-wife to his gruesome job, and he worried so very much about you. He could be overprotective, though.

He searched your face for any kind of doubt, of untruthfulness, or deceit. You worried he would be able to read you like an open book – after all, you’d been married for a few years now. He probably could. But you prided yourself in being able to do some little profiling of your own, and schooled your features into a soft smile, the one you knew had him weak.

“Good.” His hand dropped to your neck, where he slowly rubbed circles with his thumb. “Wouldn’t want you in any danger.”

“I know,” you mumbled with a small shrug.

“I love you. All I want is for you to be safe.”

“I know. I love you too.”

After a while of gazing into your eyes, Aaron pulled away, but not before placing a chaste kiss on top of your head. “How about we get started on dinner? No need to rush this way.”

You nodded towards him and settled around the kitchen.

You moved around each other like second nature, passing tools and ingredients back and forth as you needed them. The soft humming of the radio Aaron had turned on buzzed in the background, making the atmosphere much more domestic. Sometimes you stole glances at him and smiled at his focused expression. The furrowed brows and thinly pressed lips, the image of composure and dedication. That’s who Aaron was, through and through. Dedicated.

Since you took your sweet time, dinner was ready at exactly seven o’clock. Punctual, just how Aaron liked it. You set the table and were sat down to eat before ten past seven. Precise, just how Aaron liked it.

As you ate, he told you about his day. The files on top of his desk he had to review, the case he had to go on, the intricacies of his job. Aaron never went into too much detail – he did not want to taint you with the ugliness of his job, wanted to keep you beautiful and untouched forever. You did not need to know all the ugly details he and his team had to deal with.

“Speaking of, JJ is organising a birthday party for Henry,” Aaron mentioned. “She has invited us.”

You were so happy you could burst with joy.

“Really?” You asked, putting down your fork to look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“Really. Would you like to go?”

“Yes!” It came out more eager than what you expected, so you tried to cough it out and try again. “Yeah, I’d really love that, Aaron. I miss the kids so much.”

“I thought you might. It’s settled then, we’re going.”

You ate the remainder of your food with a smile playing on your lips, and a small idea turning in your head. He seemed to be in a good mood. He took a relaxing shower, helped you make dinner, and had now told you the two of you were going to a birthday party. Surely, he was feeling happy, surely you could try and sweeten your night a bit more.

“You know, maybe it’s a good time to mention that Mrs. Robinson came by yesterday,” you said, trying to be as casual as possible.

Aaron immediately looked up, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Why did she come here? What did she want?”

“Gosh, Aaron, you act as if she’s a psychopathic serial killer,” you said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s a sweet old lady.”

“Hm. So? Why did she stop by?”

“She wanted to know if I was interested in joining her book club.”

Aaron went back to eating his food, and you saw it as your chance to keep talking.

“They meet at the library every Thursday to discuss the books they’re reading. Some neighbourhood ladies are part of it, and she sees me reading in the garden so she thought I might be interested.”

Your husband kept eating, looking at the plate before him. You kept talking.

“I am. Interested, that is. I’d love to join her book club.”

“No.”

Your felt your stomach sinking but fought against it. Do not be emotional. Be rational. Be assertive. See this through.

“Why not?” you asked, bringing your glass of water to your lips. Be casual. It’s a request like any other. You’re not desperate.

“Because I don’t think it is a good idea.” He still refused to meet your eyes.

“You think it’s a bad idea for me to meet with a bunch of old ladies at the local library to discuss books?”

“I do. And I don’t want you doing it.”

“Aaron, come on. It’s just a book club, it’s not like anything is going to happen to me.” You pleaded, dreading the feeling of your throat tightening. You knew it meant the tears weren’t long due.

“Every week for God knows how long?” This time he raised his head, looking at you straight in the eyes. Unfortunately, you did not recognise your sweet husband in them. This was all Unit Chief, all SSA, all Agent. “If you create a pattern, you’ll be easier to track. I won’t have that happen to you.”

“I’ll be safe, I promise. I can take cabs instead of walking.”

“Abductions can occur better that way. Once you’re taken to a second location, your chances of survival decrease dramatically.”

“I’ll carry pepper spray then. Take self-defence classes.”

“Pepper spray is nothing to an experienced killer.”

“What if I take the bus?”

“You can’t expect me to agree to you going on a public transport where countless other strangers could also be.”

“I’ll get a ride with some of the ladies then.” You were running out of excuses, out of options, out of ways to convincing him, and the harshness of his voice and eyes were causing you to tear up quicker than expected.

“They might have ulterior motives.”

“They’re sweet old ladies, Aaron, I’ll be fine.” You were exasperated by now, voice shaky and wobbly. “It’s just a book club, it’s not like anything will happen to me – “

“I said no.” Aaron smacked his hands on the dinner table, causing you to flinch backwards. You looked at him, wide eyes in terror and tears streaming down your face. Aaron had never raised your voice at you, and while he was sometimes physical with the world around him – not you, though, never you – this was the first time in a while he took out his frustrations like this. You thought he had been doing well. You thought you had been doing well.

Turns out you were wrong.

“You will not be leaving this house any time soon, not for a book club, not for anything.” He looked at you with the stern gaze solely reserved for criminals, unsubs, for people who did bad things, for the bad people he caught. You never thought you’d be in the receiving end of this stare. It made your stomach churn. You hated it. “And I’m starting to think it’s a bad idea to go to Henry’s birthday party. I’ll tell JJ we’re otherwise engaged.”

Your eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, and you shook your head repeatedly.

“No – please, don’t. I miss them so much, I miss the team, I miss the kids, I – “ You stuttered pathetically, trying to keep the tears from falling, but failing miserably.

“You’re going to stay here, and you’re not going to go anywhere else. Understood?” He asked you, voice booming in the tiny kitchen, making you feel small and weak and utterly powerless – Aaron had you stuck to your chair without having even touched you.

“I want to go out – please, JJ invited us! I haven’t seen everyone in so long, I’m sorry, please let me go.”

Aaron said your name with a sternness and venom you had never recognised before in your shared time together. It made your surprised expression fall, leaving only sadness.

“I won’t tolerate any more defiance from you. If I were you, I’d watch my words carefully. You know I have never so much as even lifted a hand towards you, but I won’t hesitate to show you what happens when you disobey me. Is that clear?”

Pure, sheer terror was running through your veins. You never thought you’d see Aaron like this. You’d upset him once or twice when he first set the boundaries you now lived by, but he had never behaved the way he was behaving now. It terrified you, and all you wanted was your sweet Aaron back, the one that had cooked dinner with you earlier, the one who had tasted the food off your lips for a “quality check” and pinched your side playfully when you made a dirty joke. Not whoever this was.

You quickly stood up, placing your dishes in the dishwasher, and ran to your shared bedroom, where you slammed the door behind you (a terrible idea and you knew it, but you were far too upset to care) and collapsed on your bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

You wanted to go out. You wanted to go meet JJ and the team, wanted to talk to all of them again. Wanted to discuss books with Spencer and advise Penelope on the new nail polish you’d began using. Wanted to ask Rossi for wine recommendations, because your anniversary with Aaron was approaching and you wanted to order him something nice – order, of course. You never shopped by yourself in person.

In fact, you never shopped in person anymore.

Aaron’s rules had started out simple. You could understand why a man like him would want to protect you from the horrors of this world. But as the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, the rules had shifted, the boundaries reinforced, and you felt more caged than ever. Nowadays, you’re not allowed to leave the house. Period. You can go to your backyard, sunbathe in your garden, and spend some time there, but aside from that, you’re confined to the walls of your house.

Sometimes, Aaron offered you to take you places. He hadn’t, in a long time. Henry’s birthday party would be the first time in months you’d leave your house. Well, save for that secret escapade of yours, but that was not nearly enough to satiate your hunger for the outside world.

And now that was gone.

You wailed loudly, hugging your pillow, and wishing for things to be different. You missed going out. You missed talking to your friends over coffee or tea and strolling down the park when the weather was nice. You barely saw your friends nowadays. They were too busy with their lives, and often met up with each other to hang out. Your reply, unfortunately, had become the same.

Sorry girls, I’m busy.

It was disheartening and you hated it. But you also loved Aaron, which made everything harder.

Speaking of Aaron, you thought about your little secret outing of today. You put on some baggy clothes, wore a pair of sunglasses, and walked to the nearest park. You sat down on the grass, watched as people walked by, even pet a few dogs. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t really a luxurious outing, but it had been exactly what you needed. Some fresh air, some real walking, not the pacing you did around the house, worrying yourself and driving yourself insane. You thought no one had recognised you, which was great, because you had no idea what Aaron would do if he found out.

That’s why he couldn’t.

You stayed there, crying your heart out, clutching your pillow like a lifeline. All you’d asked Aaron was to go to a book club. Surely that did not warrant the level of protection he was intent on giving you, right? Surely, going out every Thursday to discuss books with half a dozen old ladies was not that bad, right?

After a while – was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? You couldn’t tell – you heard the bedroom door being opened and felt the bed dip by your side.

“Go away,” you mumbled, not interested in whatever kind of comfort he was about to give you. You wanted to cry, to scream, to yell. You wanted to walk outside and do all the things you had been forbidden to do. Instead, you curled away from him, eyes tightly closed.

“Honey…” Aaron mumbled, but not attempting to scoot closer. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. I never wanted to yell at you like that or threaten you. I’m really sorry for my behaviour.” His hand slowly crept up to your shoulder, and he caressed your skin through the soft fabric of your shirt. You knew Aaron liked to have his hands on you. While in public (well, whenever you two went out in public at least), he hated PDA, behind closed doors he was a clingy mess, reaching to touch you at every moment. “You just have to understand that I care about you, and I want to keep you safe.”

“A book club isn’t going to hurt me,” you choked out, shaking your head against the covers.

“When you have a job like mine, see the things I see… it’s hard to draw the line between what could be safe and what couldn’t.” Aaron reached forward, brushing some strands of hair out of your face and sighing. “I’m sorry. I know I worry too much, but whenever I go to work and see all the terrible things that happen to innocent people… It’s not nice, darling. It makes me even more anxious.”

You turned around tentatively, not wanting to let him win this argument and your good graces back so quickly, but still willing to listen to whatever he had to say.

“Whenever I think of the possibility that one day, it could be your picture I’m looking at in my conference room… I don’t think I can describe the anguish it causes me.”

You hummed softly. Aaron dropped his hand to his side, and you hesitantly picked it back up. Goodness, you did not even want to think of that possibility. Him trying to solve your murder. Your murder. You being hurt and tortured and killed.

That was an outcome you never wanted to face. Just thinking of the pain it would cause Aaron makes your stomach do a very unpleasant flip.

“And after I told you about Henry’s birthday, I thought you’d be happy. I thought you’d like it, being able to leave for a while and hang out with my team – I know how much you love them.” A small smile graced Aaron’s lips, and it almost lifted your spirits. Almost. “But instead of that, you asked me for more. I just felt like you weren’t being grateful of what I offered you. Like you wanted more than what I could give you. And after the week I had… I think I just exploded. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Oh.

“I wasn’t even sure if I was going to tell you about the birthday party… I wanted to keep you here, away from all harm. But I knew just how happy it would make you, so I overlooked my own fear. And it felt like you weren’t being appreciative of what I was giving you. I’m sorry, honey. I really am.”

Embarrassment crept up to your cheeks.

He was right.

You knew Aaron was protective. Knew he cared about you. Telling you about Henry’s birthday party must’ve taken a great deal of courage for him, and here you were, asking for even more. You felt foolish right now, you felt like an annoying spoiled brat. And it wasn’t nice at all.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, turning to him fully and scooting closer. He met you halfway and scooped you up in his arms, sitting you down on his lap. You rested your forehead against his chest and only the feel of his arms around you was enough for the waterworks to start again. “I just wanted to go out,” you sobbed into his chest, clutching his shirt, and refusing to meet his eye.

“I know, sweetheart,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair, and caressing you. “And if you hadn’t said anything about that silly book club, we could’ve gone out and had fun at Henry’s birthday party.”

“I really wanna go, though,” you shook your head and clutched his shirt tighter, “Please, let me go. We can have a good time together. Please, I’ll do anything you say, I’ll be good.”

Aaron pressed a soft kiss on top of your head, hugging you just a tad closer.

“I’m sorry, darling. We can’t go to the birthday party. You need to understand that your actions have consequences, alright? Next time, you won’t be so bratty and ungrateful, and maybe we’ll go.” The harshness of his words felt odd when he said them in such a gentle manner. You knew Aaron was capable of whispering kind words and loving promises, but also knew he could rip people to shreds with his words alone. You just didn’t expect to be at the receiving end of them.

“But I was good…” you sniffled.

“Now, now.” He lifted your chin up with his fingers, gazing into your eyes with that same old affection you were so used to, eyes scanning your face and landing on your red eyes and runny nose. “Is demanding for more time out after I’d just granted you some being good?”

You shook your head, truly embarrassed, but decided not to say anything.

“I don’t think you deserve to go out then.”

It was enough for you to tear up again, heartbreak evident in your eyes and the way loud ugly sobs were ripped from your throat. Aaron simply held you against him, shushing you, placing kisses in whatever spot he could reach. He comforted you silently, as he often did when you were distressed or anxious.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, hiding your face against his chest. “I’m sorry, I want to be good, I want to go out, please…”

You sounded so defeated, it broke Aaron’s heart. But at the end of the day, he was only doing his job: protecting you. If it made you cry and suffer a bit, then so be it. You could scream all you wanted, but at least you’d be safe.

“I’m sorry, darling. You need to know your actions have consequences. Tell you what, I’ll make it an even better day, alright?”

You looked up at him, sniffling.

“You will?”

“I will,” brushing a strand of hair aside from your face, Aaron whispered, “We can order some food, if you’d like. Your favourites. Then we can curl up on the couch and watch some movies. We’ll have a cosy day, just the two of us, hm? I’ll even get you that console you’ve told me about, the one you really wanted.”

It’s been a while since you’d been able to have a cosy day with Aaron. He was always so busy with work, and even when he was home, he’d lock himself inside his home office and work some more. The idea of spending a whole day curled up in his arms as you watched movies, played some games and ate your favourite food was extremely tempting. In fact, it was just what you needed.

“Really? Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us,” he repeated, kissing the top of your head once more and tightening his hold on you. You figured you could do it. A cosy day with your sweet, sweet Aaron.

After all, he was all you needed, right?

Your cosy day together went extremely well, and it reminded you of why you’d fallen in love with this man. He’d started it by bringing you breakfast in bed, as well as fresh flowers and telling you just how pretty you were and how much he loved you. After you were done eating your share, Aaron decided to have his and spend nearly two hours in between your legs, drawing sweet, sweet noises from you and drinking them up.

After that, you showered together, you spent some time in the garden. Aaron helped you with your flowers and your small vegetable garden, and you even picked up some veggies for lunch – which Aaron so gladly helped you make. After that, you sat on the couch as your husband cleaned the kitchen, picking a movie to watch. You ended up settling on a rom-com – not really your husband’s favourite genre, but it’s not like he could say no to you after he’d promised a day all about you.

After the movie was done, you caught up on some of your buddy-reads. Even if Aaron did not allow you to join a book club, he still made sure to pick books up and read them with you. It was another way to connect with you, even if just for a while. He found himself texting you when on the jet, asking you if you’d made it to chapter 4 of whatever current reading the both of you were going through, and asking you not to spoil him. Today, you managed to finish the thriller you’d picked up a few weeks ago and shared your thoughts and theories over a nice cup of tea.

Then, Aaron prepared a nice bath for the both of you. You drank champagne and ate strawberries as you played with the bubbles and nuzzled into his neck, and you could swear it was the happiest you’d ever been. Later, he’d ordered from your favourite place, and you’d eaten on the couch, laughing at some silly comedy movie you’d been meaning to watch for some time now.

It was a perfect day of Aaron proving to you just how much he loved you, from making you breakfast in bed to even feeding you bite after bite after he jokingly told you his beautiful wife “wouldn’t have to lift a finger while he was home”. It ended up proving to be true, since he did not allow you to do anything.

Later that night, you felt foolish – being ungrateful and bratty, and instead of being mad at you, Aaron was acting like your servant, catering to your every need, and giving you everything you could possibly want. You were so lucky – how come you’d managed to find a man like him? Days like this made you reevaluate your actions towards your husband. It was unfair to treat him the way you did when he was nothing short of a prince or a king.

A king who kept you captive in his tower, a little voice in your head screamed.

You tried not to listen to it.

Aaron had lost people before. He wanted to protect you. To save you. Case closed.

A few weeks later, one Sunday morning, you were looking through your drawers in your bedroom, brow burrowed in confusion.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Aaron asked, walking inside, and leaning against the doorframe. You loved it when he did that, seemingly so carefree and reckless. You thought him to be the most handsome man in the world, and his good looks only increased whenever his brow wasn’t furrowed, or his face buried in work.

“Yeah, I – I just can’t find my phone anywhere,” you huffed, “I could’ve sworn I left it on top of my bedside table.”

“You won’t be finding it any time soon.” Aaron replied nonchalantly, which caused you to turn and raise a questioning eyebrow.

“What?”

“I took your phone from you, honey. I didn’t think you’d be needing it, so I took it away.”

The calmness with which he said these words left you speechless. You loved your phone. It was your connection to the outside world. It was how you texted your friends and documented sweet moments with Aaron. It was how you kept up with your family, and currently, it was how you were preparing for your anniversary, looking for gifts that might be of interest to your husband. To take that away from you was a breach of privacy.

“Why would you do that?” You crossed your arms, sitting down on your bed. Maybe if you spoke with him calmly, rationally, if you didn’t get emotional and desperate, he’d listen to you. It was normal for you to have a phone. No need to take it away.

“I read through your text messages.”

What?

“You did what?”

“You seem to chat an awful lot with Reid. Mind telling me why?”

You scoffed, offendedthat your husband not only went through your texts but was also coming up with some pretty serious – false – accusations.

“Aaron, what the hell are you talking about?” You asked him, trying your best to remain calm.

“In fact, you seem to text him more often than you text me.” A twitch of his jaw.

“That’s because you tell me not to contact you when you’re working.”

“So is Reid and that doesn’t seem to stop you.” A click of his jaw.

“We’re just two friends talking, Aaron. You had no right – “

“You had no right to go behind my back and talk to my coworkers twenty-four-seven. What did you expect me to think, huh?” Aaron approached you, brows furrowed and arms now at his side. You could see his fists were clenched, and it somehow scared you. “Maybe I’ve been too lenient, letting you contact whoever you wanted at any time you wanted. Should I have Garcia look into your search history?”

“You can’t do that!” You stood up, mortified. He wouldn’t do it, now would he? Aaron trusted you – trust was the bane of your relationship, as it was the bane of any relationship. And right now, he was basically telling you he had none for you, taking your privacy away and threatening to investigate your internet activity. You were doing nothing wrong – your usual movie and documentary-watching, book-reading, game-playing, whatever. Hell, you kept it PG and Safe for Work. It’s not like Aaron would be displeased with what he found. But it was still disrespectful, and it proved to you that your husband did not trust you.

“I can, and maybe I will. I’ve been giving you everything and this is how you repay me? By going behind my back? Talking to my coworkers? Am I not enough, is that it? Do you not love your husband anymore?”

You were crying by now, and hated yourself for turning soft, for turning sentimental when you promised you wouldn’t.

“I do love you, Aaron, you’re the only one I want,” you told him, approaching him slowly.

“Then why are you talking to Rossi, of all people, at one in the morning? What could possibly so important that you must call him when we’re away on cases at one in the morning?”

“It’s not that you think!”

“Then what is it, huh? Getting tired of your marriage, is it?”

You lifted your hand to cup Aaron’s face, as you often did when he was nervous or distressed and wanted to calm him down. This time, however, it didn’t go according to your plans. Aaron grabbed your wrist, pressing it uncomfortably until it hurt.

“Fuck – Ow, Aaron, you’re hurting me – “

“I don’t let you outside to keep you safe,” he nearly spat out, “To protect you. And this is what you do? Everything I do, I do it because I love you!”

“You’re hurting me, please let go, we can talk about this – “

“Why were you calling my coworkers so late in the night?” It wasn’t even a question at this point, it was a demand, with how he barked it, twisting your wrist as he yelled.

“Let me go!”

“Answer me!”

“Let me go!”

Aaron pulled you closer to him by your wrist, causing you to wince in pain. Tears were streaming down on your cheeks, and instead of immediately letting go upon noticing them, Aaron just held onto you tighter. “Answer me. Why have you been calling my coworkers so late?”

“I’m just asking for help!” you cried, shaking your head, unable to look your husband in the eyes. “I wanted to give you something nice for your anniversary, so I was asking around!”

This made Aaron stop dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and he loosened the grip on your wrist. Your anniversary. Right. As he watched you stumble back a few steps and caress the bruised skin of your arm, Aaron shook his head. Was he becoming a tyrant? He wasn’t, was he? It was completely normal for him to be worried. Who knew what you could do with a phone. Meet someone else and leave him. Get tricked and hurt. Get taken from him. None were possibilities he wanted to even think about – hence removing this type of contact with the outside world. You were better off where no one could reach you. Where he could protect you and take care of you. After all, your safety and happiness were the only thing Aaron cared about.

And yet here you were, sitting down on your shared bed, sobbing your heart out, clutching your wrist near your chest, far too scared to meet his eye.

He had to fix this. Quick.

“I – “ you hiccupped, looking at the floor, “I called Rossi because I wanted to get you a bottle of w-wine. Something special to c-commemorate a special date.” After you let go of your wrist, no longer that sore (but still red from Aaron’s grip), you hid your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with each sob that got ripped off your throat. “I called the others because I wanted you to have the night to yourself. They were supposed to take on your workload slowly, so you could go home on time on our day.”

Aaron was glued to his spot. He wanted to reach out to you, but he also knew you needed space. He’d behaved like a monster. He felt like a monster. But he wasn’t. Right? You can’t blame a man for wanting to protect his wife. The woman he loves. Everything he did, he did it out of love. Even if it hurt sometimes.

“I just wanted our anniversary to be special.” This seemed to be the breaking point. You fell back on the bed and curled into yourself in a foetal position, crying loudly. “And now the surprise is ruined, and you hate me, and I can’t even have my phone back.”

This seemed to break something inside Aaron as well. Not the bit about your phone – he couldn’t care less about that. The less you could contact the outside world, the better. No, the bit about him hating you. Because how could he ever hate you, the woman he loved above everything else? The woman that made his life worth it? The woman that made getting out of bed every day to catch serial killers worth it? The woman he was working so hard to protect? The woman who had taught him what love was?

“Darling…” he knelt next to the bed and attempted to lay a hand on your leg. You flinched away from him, and he winced. You’d never rejected his touch. Even when you were mad at him, you never found it in yourself to reject him. You both knew how fickle and unpredictable life could be and did not want to waste it in petty quarrels. No one knew what tomorrow may bring.

This seemed different, though.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, moving to sit on the bed next to you. You felt his weight on the mattress and curled into yourself even tighter.

“I just wanted to do something nice…”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“And you yelled at me.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“And hurt me.”

The venom behind your words caused him to grimace. Venom did not taste nice on your tongue. But as much as he wanted to punish you for using that tone with him, he couldn’t. He had to coax you out of your shell, make you trust him again.

“I know. I’m sorry, darling.”

“Are you?”

“I am.”

You stayed in silence for a while. Your sobs eventually subsided, and your breathing evened out as you stared away from your husband. But it was him who broke the silence, not able to bear it any longer.

“May I hold you?”

“I don’t want you to touch me right now. I want you to go away.”

Aaron inhaled deeply. He had to remain calm.

“Darling, please let me hold you. I feel terrible. Please let me make it up to you.”

You pondered it. Right now, all you wanted was to be alone. The last thing you wanted was his hands on you – especially when they’d caused you so much pain just a few minutes ago.

“No. Go away.”

Aaron clenched his fist next to him. Why couldn’t you just understand he was doing this all for you? For your protection?

Still, he sighed and moved to stand up, accepting his defeat – for now. He’d have to win you over, but he couldn’t do that right now, when your head was still hot and your hatred for him probably ran deep.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”

After Aaron closed the door behind him, you felt into a deep slumber.

Next morning, you awoke to the smell of pancakes, and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on – something sweet. Making your way to the kitchen, you found your husband near the stove, a white apron wrapped around his body (most likely the one you’d gifted him a few years ago, the one with the Kiss the Cook print).

As your eyes roamed around the kitchen, they fell on the big bouquet of flowers sitting on top of the kitchen table, and the box of chocolates next to it. You cringed. Was he trying to bribe you? And then you examined said flowers and chocolate closer.

The flowers were the same as the ones you wore on your wedding bouquet. An unwilling smile made its way to your lips as you approached the delicate flowers and took in their scent. Fresh and as lovely as you remembered, the colourful flowers brought back memories of the happiest day of your life.

The chocolate box next to them was the same brand as the chocolates Aaron usually got for you whenever he was away on cases since they weren’t available in your state.

When had he gotten these?

“Good morning beautiful,” your husband said, turning to you and placing a plate full of pancakes on the table. He gave you a sheepish smile and leaned against the counter. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did,” you nodded, “What is all this?”

“My way of apologizing.” Aaron placed a glass of orange juice in front of your plate, as well as different jams and ingredients you could have your pancakes with. He had sliced bananas, butter, cheese and ham, jams, even strawberries. He’d really thought this through. “I behaved like an animal last night, and I want to make it up to you. I’m sorry, darling. I really am.”

You hummed and sat down. Fuck, those pancakes did smell good. Really good. You missed having Aaron cook for you. You could do it fine on your own, sure, but whenever he did it for you, it just filled your heart with immense warmth, because it just went to show just how much he loved you. How much he loved caring for you.

“You really hurt me last night, Aaron. You squeezed my wrist – you hurt me; do you understand?” You hoped your voice would convey just how angry you were with him. Not only had he looked through your phone and taken it from you, but he’d also squeezed your wrist and yelled. Aaron had once promised never to raise his voice or hand at you, and yesterday, he’d broken both those promises. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

Aaron’s eye twitched. Can’t forgive him? No. Impossible. Undoable. You had to forgive him. You were his wife. His to protect, his to love, his to own. Still. He kept calm. He took a deep breath and knelt next do you, hands resting on your legs.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to remedy what I did. In fact,” Aaron leaned back and grabbed something off one of the chairs, giving it to you right away. At first you were sceptical. Was he trying to buy you? He should know this was not how relationships work. Sure, he was wealthy, but it didn’t mean he could fix everything wrong with your relationship just by buying you something –

“I thought it would look lovely on you when we went out today.” Aaron spoke as you lifted the piece of fabric off the paper back. It was a lovely yellow dress, that you figured would reach below your knees. The fabric was soft, and it took everything in you not to rub it against your face – hell, it felt like heaven. And it was very pretty too, with little flower details that resembled a watercolour painting covering the dress. It was beautiful. “I thought we could go out today. You mentioned wanting to go to the market near the square? I can start making amends by taking you there, by showing you off like you deserve to be shown off. I don’t want to keep you captive here, sweetheart. I’m so sorry for the way I behaved. I promise, it’ll never happen again.”

You were speechless. Aaron was taking you out.

Shit. You hadn’t gone out since that little secret outing of yours. And as far as he was concerned, you hadn’t gone out in months. Was this it? Was your husband finally seeing how wrong his ways were? Was he finally changing?

“I’ve been so unfair, locking you up here, darling.” He reached out to touch your face, and you willingly let him. “All I wanted was to protect you, and I ended up hurting you. I hope this shows you just how much I love you, and how much I regret my past actions.”

You let his words sink in.

You knew letting you go out was Aaron’s biggest fears. He wanted nothing bad to happen to you, was far too scared that you would get hurt.

And now, he was letting go of his own fears. He was swallowing his pride and doubts and apprehensions because he wanted to apologise. Because he wanted to prove to you that he was sorry and that he did care about you and never wanted to hurt you. He was willing to break his number one rule for you.

And was there a greater display of affection?

“You really hurt me, Aaron…” you repeated, unconsciously rubbing at your wrists. Aaron noticed it immediately – didn’t take a profiler to do that and covered your hands with his own.

“I know. I will never forgive myself for that. But I’ll work until the end of my days to get you to do it. I love you, honey. The last thing I do is to hurt you. All I care about is your happiness.”

You looked away, bottom lip in between your teeth. A whole day out. Aaron wanted to go out. You’d finally leave the house (again). With him. You’d have fun. You’d enjoy yourself. You’d wear a nice dress and spend the day with your lovely husband.

Was there anything more perfect than that?

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want, darling. I’ll take you out wherever you want. You can plan our whole day to your heart’s desire.”

A smile made its way to your lips. Not only were you getting to go out with your husband, but you were also permitted to plan it any way you want. And that was absolutely lovely. Your husband, the control-freak, the man obsessed with being on top of things, the one who freaked out whenever things got out of hand, was relishing control.

To you.

You smiled widely and wrapped your arms around Aaron’s neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. He reciprocated, of course, letting out a sigh of relief. You were back. You’d gone back to him. Just how he had wanted you to.

You buried your face in his neck, murmuring sweet “I love yous” and “Thank yous” that he responded to with a few kisses to your head and cheeks.

If allowing you to go out with him for a day was what took for you to forgive him, he’d do it. It was crushing him, of course, knowing that you’d be outside, for all to see. Knowing that anyone could easily hurt you made something turn and churn inside Aaron’s stomach, but he said nothing. He was willing to sacrifice one day for the sake of your marriage. After all, he’d be there next to you. He was a trained FBI Agent, for crying out loud. If he couldn’t protect you, what kind of man would that make him out to be?

No, he thought, it is extremely necessary.

“I love you, Aaron,” You whispered against his skin, feeling safe in his warm embrace. Last night had clearly been a mistake. He was angry, he was jealous, he was insecure, of course. You’d probably feel that way too if you found out he was calling other women past your bedtime, wouldn’t you? He just didn’t know what to do with his anger and got too passionate that’s it.

These were the words you told yourself as you smiled and hugged the man before you. The man that very much resembled the one you fell in love with, the sweet Aaron who’d promised to love and cherish you through thick and thin. Last night had been a small bump on the road, that’s it. Every marriage has a few every now and then. If you could push past this, it meant that your marriage would only get stronger and stronger as the years went by.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Aaron replied, cupping your face to get a good look at you. His eyes roamed across your features, resting on the eyes he sought whenever he needed comfort, on the eyelashes he so often found himself swooning at whenever you batted them softly, on the lovely cheeks he loved to hold after a rough day, on the lips that tasted like home any time he pressed them against his.

Swallowing his pride and fears would be worth it to get your forgiveness.

You sat up straight once more and dug into your breakfast. As always, it was fantastic. Aaron was a great cook – and although you did most of the cooking because of his busy schedule, having him cook for you was something you loved.

“Alright, you think about what we’re going to do, sweetheart,” Aaron said as he stood up and kissed the top of your head. “I’m going to take a shower.”

You nodded enthusiastically and smiled to yourself, going through all the things you’d like to do today. There were a few places you wanted to visit, some activities you wanted to do, and you had to choose them carefully. Who knew the next time Aaron would let you go out? After a few minutes, you had a nice list on a sheet of paper beside you, and were brimming with excitement.

It was going to be the best day ever.

And to your credit, it really was.

You hadn’t been this happy in ages.

All thanks to Aaron.

Your anniversary was quickly approaching.

Well, “quickly” was an understatement.

It was in two days, and you were so excited you could combust. After all, it was the anniversary of the happiest day in your life. The day you tied the knot with Aaron, the day you promised you’d be his, and him yours, the day where you swore to him a life of love, loyalty, and companionship.

Why wouldn’t you want to celebrate that?

You’d spent the entire day on your living room, papers and notebooks spread out on the couch and the coffee table before you, as well as some pencils and pens. You needed to plan this out perfectly. You were thinking about taking Aaron out to his favourite restaurant. Granted, it’d meant he would have to let you go out, but you figured he wouldn’t be able to say no in such a happy day.

You’d planned his gifts too – a bottle of wine, one that he had mentioned drinking a few years ago before you’d met and loved (thank Rossi for helping you find that one out), a new watch with your initials engraved inside (thank heavens you’d placed the order before Aaron took away your phone), and you had a lovely, lovely lingerie piece hidden away in your closet that you couldn’t wait for him to get a look at. It was going to be the perfect night; you were sure of it.

Aaron’s team had been taking workload off his desk as they promised, which meant your husband had been coming home to you earlier and earlier. Not only it was great for you, who missed him terribly, but also fantastic for him. Heavens knew how much Aaron needed to get some rest and sleep. These past few days, the bags under his eyes seemed to have disappeared and he wasn’t constantly exhausted. So, all your hard work had been paying off.

You just needed your anniversary to work out as well as everything else had.

As soon as the click of the door’s lock reached your ears, you scrambled to put away your things, not wanting to ruin the surprised you’d so thoroughly planned. Sure, Aaron knew about the wine, but he had no idea about the watch, the plans, and the flimsy piece of fabric you were sure he’d love.

“Hello, darling,” you greeted him as usual, turning around and offering him a smile. “How was work?”

But the sight before you sent chills down your spine, as opposed to bring you comfort.

Aaron was standing by the doorstep, eyes fixed on the ground below him. His jaw was tightened, and you could make out how white his knuckles were as he held onto his briefcase. He looked distressed, and it worried you.

“Darling?” You asked, carefully placing your notebooks under a pillow, and standing up. “Is everything okay?” You slowly moved around the couch to take his briefcase and his jacket, as you sometimes did when he was particularly tired – he usually liked it whenever you took care of him.

However, it was impossible to pry the briefcase away from his iron grip. You hummed and looked at him, trying to, for once, be the profiler. Must’ve been a rough case. You knew how gruesome some of them could be, and how Aaron preferred to hug you close sometimes instead of speaking about what tormented him. Actions spoke louder than words, you supposed.

“Rough day?”

He did not reply, choosing to keep staring at the floor.

“Darling, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you said, hand coming up cup his cheek. You rubbed your thumb over his jaw a few times, hoping to soothe him. It didn’t work – if anything, you felt his body tense up even more. “Aaron, I can’t read your mind. You don’t need to tell me all the details, but please say something. You’re worrying me.”

When he looked up and his eyes met yours, you nearly winced.

He looked like shit.

And that itself would be an understatement. His eyes were bloodshot, the eyebags you’d worked so hard to help remove were back and in full glory, his cheeks seemed hollowed, and his hair was messy, as if he’d ran his hands through it multiple times.

“Oh, honey…” you mumbled, hugging him without any further words. Whatever he’d gone through that day must have been ghastly because you were quite sure you’d never seen your husband like this.

And you were going to do everything in your power to help him out.

“How about you take a warm shower, okay?” You asked, placing a kiss on his jaw, hands rubbing circles on his back. “Wash the day off you, relax a bit. Dinner is in the oven, so it’s nearly ready. We can eat and then you can talk. Or not. Whatever you feel is best.” You murmured, burying your face in his neck. Some of the tension seemed to leave Aaron’s body, which you considered a small victory.

Wordlessly, Aaron kissed the top of your head, pried his body away from yours and moved to your bedroom. He was acting strange no doubt, but you knew he’d feel instantly better after a hot shower and some nice homemade food. You’d make sure to restore your husband’s spirits – after all, that’s what you promised. Good and bad. Sickness and health. Highs and lows.

You did good on your word and finished up dinner, taking it out of the oven and plating it up. You wondered what could possibly have your husband so shook up. Sure, he’d come before tired and exhausted, and had once or twice cried in your arms while you stroked his hair and held him tightly, but today? Today he just looked angry. And somewhat empty. Hell, he hadn’t even said “hello” or called you gorgeous. Something was up and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

When Aaron came out, his lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked better than a few minutes before, though. Surely the warm water had helped him relax a bit. Now, onto the cooking. Aaron loved your cooking. As mentioned before, he loved anything you did to take care of him.

So, you pulled up his chair and pressed a kiss on the top of his head while you fetched two glasses and poured the two of you some wine. Usually you’d drink water, but with the day you were sure Aaron had, some wine would be the perfect way to decompress. Aaron sat down, and while he looked better, clean, and wearing comfortable clothes, you still felt like his mood was dark. He refused to meet your eye, and his expression was blank.

You knew you had to tread carefully. One wrong move, and Aaron would shut up, hide, refuse to speak. No, you needed to slowly coax him out of your shell, slowly bring him to the space he knew he was safe in, the space he knew he could talk freely in.

“I had such a busy day today,” you started, cutting your food, and placing a forkful inside your mouth. You carefully watched the man before you, and smiled once he began eating. Good. He was eating – that meant whatever had happened today was salvageable. “I woke up, and I guess we must’ve had a pretty windy night, because some of the flowers I’d planted last week were ruined. Took me about two hours to fix everything up, and even then, I think we’ll have to order some more.”

Ah, right. Aaron had taken your phone from you, but he still allowed you to keep your computer. At first you thought it was a bit contradictory, letting you keep something you could still access people and websites with. But those questions were quickly answered when you figured out the only few websites you could access were store ones. He was clear about this; you only needed the internet to buy useful things. Food. Groceries. He’d even been nice enough (his words) to let you access a lingerie store. But other than that, there was nothing else you could do. You had no access to social media, and while he’d granted you a few entertainment websites and services, you could not comment anywhere nor interact with other people.

“Then I made a really nice omelette for lunch because I wasn’t really that hungry – that reminds me, we need to get eggs – and in the afternoon I finally managed to clear that one level we’ve been trying to play for days now,” you chuckled at the memory of Aaron picking up your controller, brows furrowed as he failed to clear the level you were so desperately trying to clear on your new game.

“And I tried something different with dinner – I’m using a different tomato sauce, so you’ve gotta let me know what you think. In my opinion, it’s far too sweet, but maybe you’ll think differently.”

Nothing. You got nothing out of him except for a few hums and nods. Shit. Work really must’ve been terrible today.

Well, time to pull out the big guns, your biggest effort. He wouldn’t possibly be able to stay silent after this one – not when it was such a happy topic, one you knew he too was excited for.

“You know, our anniversary is just a few days away,” you said, unable to hide the smile that spread across your lips. You couldn’t help it – Aaron made you happy. Your marriage made you happy. How were you expected not to cry when talking about a day filled with happiness and joy and the promise of endless love? “I have a few surprises for you already, but I was wondering if you had any plans of your own?

This seemed to get his attention, as he finally looked at you. and you congratulated yourself for knowing your husband so well.

“Plans?” He spoke for the first time that evening, not putting down his cutlery.

“You know, plans. I thought it would be nice if we went out, you know. It could be something simple, we’d go out for dinner and come home right away.” You knew Aaron had let you go out a while ago, and you didn’t want to push your luck nor his patience – but at the same time, you thought he was finally opening up to the idea that you’d be fine if you stepped outside of your home once in a while. He’d agreed to it once, why couldn’t he do it again? And for an extremely special occasion.

“How about we talk about what you did a couple weeks ago first?” He asked, voice cutting through the kitchen like ice. This took you aback. What was he talking about? And why was he interrupting your talk of anniversary plans to bring that up?

“What are you talking about?” You asked, putting down your fork and your glass. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and an unsettling fear pooled in your stomach. Aaron had an incredible poker face, you knew this by the way his teammates spoke about him during interrogations, or how he never let his emotions show on his face.

But right now, the mask seemed to be cracking.

His jaw was set, and you could see the hint of a vein in his neck. His deep dark eyes bore into yours uncomfortably, and you shifted in your seat.

“I’m talking about how you sneaked out of the house a couple of weeks ago.”

You felt your stomach drop.

He knew. He knew you’d gotten out of the house.

Fuck.

How? No one had seen you – you’d made sure of that. None of your neighbours were there, and you’d worn a large hoodie and a pair of sunglasses, meaning you were kind of

Aaron’s voice was now rising, but he did not sound angry. He sounded awfully calm, like he was trying to keep everything under control. It wasn’t working – you were freaking the fuck out and were sure so was he.

“I didn’t go out, Aaron,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice from quivering. Was he just guessing? Maybe you could save this. “I never went out – I always stay home just like you tell me to.”

Wrong move.

“Don’t lie to me.” He banged his fist on the table, making you jump slightly. “Don’t lie to me,” he repeated, this time in a huskier tone. Usually, you’d get butterflies in your stomach whenever he spoke like this. Today, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Aaron,” you started, softly, “I’m sorry I did that, but you have to understand I’d been inside the house for about two months, I was just tired – “

“Tired?” Aaron retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Tired of what, exactly? Of staying home and doing nothing? Of reading your books and taking care of your flowers, while I’m the one out there, risking my life every single day, working overtime more times than I can count?”

“I stay home because you tell me to, not because I want to!” you exclaimed, putting down your fork and knife. You were fighting the tears in your eyes not to roll down your cheeks. The last thing you wanted right now was start crying – not when Aaron was acting to strangely, and you feared he was getting angrier by the second. You seemed to be doing quite a lot recently – holding back your tears. And you didn’t like it one bit. “And you don’t have to risk your life like that, you don’t have to work as much as you do. I’ve told you Aaron, you should take a break, maybe work less hours, focus on your health – “

“I’ve given you everything, haven’t I?” Aaron stood up, making his way to the living room. It didn’t take long, since the kitchen space was open, and he took long strides. “I’ve given you my love, my affection, all of my devotion, I’ve given you everything you could’ve possibly asked for, and only asked for one thing in return. Loyalty. Honesty. That you stay here and never leave, and you can’t even do that.”

You followed your husband right after, staying a few feet away from him as he paced back and forth, clenching his fists beside him.

“You can’t keep me here forever, Aaron, I need to go out.” You cried out once again, trying to make him see reason. Did he truly believe his reasoning to be correct? “I – I just – It’s not right! I can’t stay locked up forever!”

“You can, and you will,” he muttered through gritted teeth, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “I’m your husband, I know what’s best for you, and I’m telling you it’s best if you stay home.”

“I’m not your prisoner, Aaron!” You threw your hands up, desperate. Was there anything you could say to make him realise just how wrong keeping you locked up at home was? “I just needed some fresh air. I felt like I was suffocating here!”

But your words, instead of soothing, seemed to have the opposite effect. Aaron’s breathing became more laboured and his eyes darkened.

“Suffocating? You want fresh air, go to the garden.” He scoffed, “You have everything you need right here! What more could you possibly want?”

You were becoming angrier at this point.

“It’s not about me wanting things, Aaron, it’s about freedom. You can’t keep me here forever!”

Then, a loud slam echoed throughout the room as Aaron punched the wall nearest to him, leaving an ugly dent in the stone. You flinched back, eyes widening with fear – Aaron had never been this violent. He’d gripped you too tightly once, but you’d never seen a display quite like this. It wasn’t like him, not at all. Hell, you weren’t even sure you knew this man, because the Aaron you loved most certainly did not act like this. Once upon a time, the man you married would have never been this violent in front of you. Once upon a time, he would’ve been understanding and talked to you about this instead of getting angry and letting his anger out in unhealthy ways.

“You don’t get to decide that!” He bellowed, “I do what’s best for you!”

Still, you couldn’t back off now. Your anger had subsided for the most part, now replaced with dread, but there was still a spark inside of you that made you not want to give up just yet. After all, you did not deserve this, now did you? Surely this type of behaviour wasn’t normal. Was it?

“This isn’t love, Aaron.” Your voice was shaking far too much, as was your whole body. “This is control. I’m your wife, I’m not your prisoner.”

Aaron turned to face you and in two steps, was towering over you like a brick wall. You took a few steps back instinctively, fearing the way he looked at you, with so much hatred and hostility in your eyes, you thought his gaze alone could turn you to a pile of ashes.

For the first time in your life, you recognised what you felt.

You were scared of your husband.

It was the first time you admitted it to yourself, and the realisation that you feared the one person whom you used to love and trust the most in the whole entire world was gutting. Because if you lost Aaron, you had no one else. He’d isolated you from your friends, from your family, and made himself a part of your every waking moment, consuming your thoughts and your actions.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” He hissed.

You were scared for your life. You’d never seen Aaron like this, and it scared you to death. Still, you decided to take hold of whatever fight you still had in you. Because no matter what, you still loved the man before you. And if he loved you as he claimed he did, he would listen, he would understand, he would apologise and you could go back to your life together, like nothing had ever happened.

Well, maybe some counselling, but you were sure you could go back to your life together.

After all, you didn’t know what would become of your life without Aaron. He was all you’d learn to know, and without him, you’d be lost.

“I’m not afraid of you, Aaron.” A lie. “I just want my life back.” Where did you get all this courage from?

“What life?”

“The life we had! I can’t do this anymore,” Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you, for once, truly spoke whatever it was your heart desired. “I won’t stay locked up here like some prisoner in a tower, I want to go out, I want to do things my own way! I hate living like this! You don’t love me anymore; you just want to control me! And I’m done! You can’t do that – “

“You think you can just walk away from me?!”

Your little speech was interrupted, and before you knew it, you were on the floor, cheek stinging like crazy. When you brought your hands to your cheek, your lip, your chin – that’s when you saw it. The blood. Warm and gooey, running down your nose to your lips and dripping on the floor below you.

And then it dawned upon you.

Aaron had hit you.

Looking up at him, you noticed how he was clutching his hand, breathing heavily.

“Aaron?” you breathed out, hands now covered in blood, your cheek and nose hurting like hell. You knew he was strong. You used to love how strong he was. How he could drive creeps away from you with a single stare or a shove, how he could pick you up effortlessly, making you giggle like a lovesick teenager, how he could manhandle you so easily, you felt like you were melting. His strength used to be something good, something he used to protect you or give you pleasure.

Right now, he’d used it to cause you pain.

Once his eyes landed on you, they softened, and he shook his head slightly. His mind was going a mile per hour, and he couldn’t just believe what he’d done. Neither could you.

“Honey, I – “ he trailed off, the words dying on his tongue. He took some tentative steps towards you, but you scurried away, eager to get the hell away from him.

“Don’t.” You muttered, one hand still under your nose, trying to stop the blood from rushing down your face, and failing miserably. It didn’t seem to stop. How could he do this? How could the love of your life, the man you loved and cherished more than anything, do this to you? Why would he do it? Aaron had promised to love and cherish you forever. He promised to be patient and kind and sweet, and he swore he would never hurt you.

And lately, that’s all he’d been doing.

Was this the point of no return?

Were you too beyond repair?

Aaron just stared at you, eyes wide in fear and despair – but fear of what? He wasn’t the one on the floor, he was the one towering over you, with much more strength that you would ever be able to muster. He was the trained FBI agent, the one who could pin you to the ground and never let you go, the one who could hurt you with just one hand and never even leave a mark.

And you were married to him.

You were completely at Aaron’s mercy.

Instead of screaming or throwing something, anything at him, or running away, you did what you’d been meaning to do for a while. You let go. You cried – sobbed even – uncontrollably.

What had your life come to?

You had a nice career. You loved your job. You loved waking up and doing what made you happy and felt like you had a purpose in life. Then you’d met Aaron, and he’d swept you off your feet, and you were incredulous because how could it all get so much better? How could you get both the job and the man? How had you gotten so extremely lucky?

The answer was you couldn’t. You couldn’t get both the job and the man, because Aaron sat you down and told you about his past. You’d hurt for him. Very much. Knowing he had lost both his wife and son to a sadistic man who took pleasure in hurting others had made you hold him tightly night after night after night and promise you wouldn’t go anywhere.

That’s when he made you promise you wouldn’t go anywhere.

It started out rather innocent.

“You could stay home,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing kisses on the soft skin below your ear as you cooked dinner. “I make enough money for the both of us. I can take care of you.”

You’d chuckled, shaking your head.

“I love my job, Aaron. I really do. And I like working, so it’s fine. But you’re sweet to even consider that.”

“You shouldn’t have to work, though,” he pressed on. “I could take care of you.”

You’d said no the first few times, but eventually relented. You knew it would put Aaron at ease, and you thought he was worth it. Your relationship was worth it.

Your wedding day was the happiest of your life, and your honeymoon was spent with love and affection and you often looked back upon those memories whenever you felt down.

And now, you cried over them.

You cried because those days were gone. You no longer had the job that fulfilled you so much, you no longer had the husband who cared for you so earnestly you thought you didn’t deserve him, and not even the memories of your honeymoon made you happy – they just made you resent whatever your life had become. Trapped inside your own home, terrified of your husband.

What the hell had happened?

“Darling, I’m so sorry…” Aaron crouched down next to you, and this time, you made no efforts to move. You were too tired, too heartbroken to do something other than cry and mourn what you thought was your current life. Did Aaron even love you anymore? Did you want to leave him, or did you just want this misery to stop? And even if you did leave him, what was to become of you? Your bank accounts belonged to him – he’d convinced you it was better, since you were married and working towards a future together – you’d lost all contact with your friends after Aaron convinced you it was for the best and cut all ties with your family.

“I just want our old life back,” you sobbed, hiding your face in your hands.

You didn’t realise Aaron’s arms were wrapped tightly around you until he pressed you against his chest. It was comforting, to be in his arms, but you also felt like you were suffocating, like once you gave up, he’d consume you whole and you would never belong to anyone else but him – not even yourself.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just…” Aaron ran his fingers through your hair, making sure all his touch was focused on bringing you comfort. His touch was both feather-like and crushing at the same time, and you thought the combination was fitting, considering your last couple of weeks. You also thought it would kill you, how sweetly he was holding you, but how his iron grip would not let you go. Perhaps it was already doing it. Perhaps you were already dead. Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to fight. “I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You mean everything to me.”

You wanted to fight. You wanted to scream and yell and push him away and get the hell out of that house. You wanted this madness to be over. You wanted your independence back, your freedom, you wanted to go out and live a life of your own instead of living his.

But you were so tired.

Tired of fighting and arguing when you knew he wouldn’t listen. Tired of witnessing displays of violence that had increased over the weeks. Tired of being so miserable.

Was it your fault? Was it your own doing that you were so unhappy in your life?

“I can’t lose you…” Aaron kept on speaking, stroking your hair and holding you as if you were a precious jewel he wanted to protect – or a most wanted criminal he could not let escape. “I can’t stand to lose someone I love, not again… Please forgive me…”

Perhaps if you hadn’t gone out, none of this would’ve happened.

Maybe Aaron was right.

He did give you everything you could ever want, didn’t you? You asked for a book, and there it was days later. You weren’t one for material things, but if you expressed a desire for a pair of shoes or some jewellery, he’d buy that for you in a heartbeat.

“You mean everything to me, darling, you really do…”

Weakly, you moved your arms around your husband, fully embracing him. You sobbed loudly, your whole body shaking, wrapped tightly in his. It felt like home, it felt like where you were meant to be, but it also felt like prison.

“I’m so unhappy, Aaron… I can’t do this anymore…” you shook your head, burying your face in his chest, taking in his scent, trying to ground yourself. “I feel like I have nothing to live for. Can’t you understand it? I have nothing, all day, every day. And when you’re gone away on cases, I’m so lonely.”

Suddenly, an idea went off in Aaron’s head.

Of course. How come he hadn’t thought of it yet?

“I can’t do this anymore, Aaron, I’m so lonely and I feel trapped… If you truly love me, you’ll understand, won’t you?” How you were still fighting, you had no idea. What were you asking of him? Freedom? A bit of leeway? For him to put you out of your misery?

“Maybe… maybe what you need is something to keep you grounded,” he muttered, pulling back slightly to look you in the eye. He saw the way your eyebrows scrunched together and caressed your cheek with his hand. Instinctively, you leaned into it and Aaron smiled. He still had that effect on you.

“A baby.”

You stilled in his arms.

A what?

“Someone to love and take care of,” he continued, rubbing circles on your skin with his thumb. “It’ll give you a sense of purpose. You won’t be lonely anymore, and you’ll never feel the need to leave again.”

How it had taken so long for Aaron to realise this, he had no clue. You’d talked about kids, sure, but it was always a “future you” kind of thing. Right now, you were enjoying your life together, and children weren’t in the picture.

But as he pictured you, round and swollen with his child, he felt a tug in his heart and a strain in his pants. Yes. A child. You’d carry on his legacy and have a sense of fulfilment as you loved and cared for his child. And you would not be able to leave, since you’d be too much of a good mother to abandon your baby. And you wouldn’t be too cruel as to take the baby from their father.

It was exactly what you two needed – a baby, to cure your relationship, to heal what was so hurt and damaged right now. He could see it clear as day, you, lovingly caressing your pregnant belly as you sat in your garden, glowing more than the sun itself. He saw you smiling one of your most breathtaking smiles at him, reaching out for his hand so he could feel his son or daughter kick.

He could see you breastfeeding your baby in the living room, cooing at them and caressing their chubby cheeks. He could see you putting your child to sleep with so much adoration, it’d make his heart burst as he watched from the doorway.

Yes.

A baby, a little child with his eyes and your smile, or your nose and his chin.

It was everything you needed.

You still clung to Aaron, holding him tightly as if he were a lifeline. You looked into his eyes and knew exactly what you were picturing, saw exactly what he saw.

And for once, you were too tired to argue. Too afraid.

Your life did not belong to you anymore – it was Aaron’s, to mold and shape and do whatever he wanted with it. Not even your own body was yours anymore – it was now something for him to possess and bend and twist as he desired. He’d give you his child and you’d carry it because that was the only thing you could do. You did not belong to yourself anymore.

And as Aaron looked at you, eyes devoid of any spark, of any spirit, he caressed your cheek and kissed your forehead.

“Trust me, darling,” he whispered against your face. “Everything I do is for you. I love you more than anything.”

You nodded.

You were completely, utterly, irrevocably his.

“You just need to see that.”

A/N: And that's it!!! I really hope you guys have enjoyed it!

Again, I just really wanted to explore a scenario where Aaron was this extremely posessive and abusive partner - I don't really know why but it was stuck in my head and I had to write it down. Oops. Sorry.

I also tried something different with the layout - hopefully it looks fun! I want it to be easier to tell the Pairing, the Word Counts, the Warnings and the Author's Note from each other, so hopefully this will help make it look less bulky lol.

Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoyed it!

Have a wonderful day ahead, everyone! <3

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

102 notes · View notes

fiber-optic-alligator · 2 days

Note

(Not a request dw) (I had to get this idea out of my head real quick.)

The idea of Drift swallowing his Little One to protect them from another mech trying to take them for themselves. The pair of them had been sitting, and idly chatting (Even if it was mostly a one-sided conversation.) when another mech had come along. Clearly interested in getting their servos on a tasty little human. It'd start with Drift growling lowly as a part of his warning to the potential human-thief that it'd be a bad idea to try his patience. Obviously he'd want to talk things out first, but a small possessive part of Drift loathes the idea of being separated from His Little One. So the "chat" is intermingled with his growling.

The next action Drift would take if the intruding mech persists. Would be to scoop his Little One up to keep them out of reach of the other mech, the growling of his engine growing more intense to dissuade the mech from taking things any further.

But if all else fails, Drift is probably just gonna make a show out of swallowing His Little One. Before growling loudly one last time out of possessive irritability, and walking away from where he'd been seated. He loathes acting like that, as it reminds him of his Deadlock days, but he wasn't about to let his Little One be stolen away by someone who wasn't going to be Nearly as careful with them as he is. It just wasn't going to happen. Speaking of which, he has some apologizing to do to His Little One after he gets back to his Habsuite, and retrieves them from his tanks. Oh dear.

Ok, but, the feeling of being swiftly (But carefully) swallowed by Drift while he's growling up a storm would be Far more jarring than the experience of being swallowed typically would be. The world around you shaking rhythmically, loudly as peristalsis drags you further down into Drift's humid depths. But even when you know Drift would never hurt you, (On purpose) being swallowed, and so thoroughly rattled by his animalistic growls fills you with dread as you sink deeper within him. You land in his stomach as he lets out a more aggressive growl. His tanks clench close around you, just as possessively as your mech is behaving externally. But when you feel him get up, and walk away his tank releases it's hold on you allowing you to breathe again.

It's different when he growls with you in his tank, than when he purrs. The sounds of his gentle purring lulls you to sleep most nights, and results in only a slight shaking sensation. But his growls rattle you to your core, and leave you feeling threatened by the typically placid mech. Drift, who loves you too much to let you leave fall into the servos of someone who can't give you the care you need. Like he can. Like he will.

HRRRRRRRGH THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!

I’m sorry I HAD to write something about this. I know this wasn’t a request but this scenario is honestly so, so good. The way you worded it was beautiful. GOD, what I wrote isn’t half as good as what you sent but I was inspired. What I wrote isn't a carbon copy of your idea, but I still really enjoyed putting this idea into story form. GOD I STILL CAN'T GET OVER IT. Drift certainly does love you too much to let you be taken by someone else. He loves you too much to let you leave. After all, you are is little one. There's no changing that.

PLEASE let me know if you like the little story I wrote. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE INCREDIBLE ASK! I'm gonna look back at reread at least twenty times now lmao.

WARNING! WHAT IS WRITTEN BELOW THIS CONTAIN SOFT VORE. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read!

“Hey, are you going to have that?”

Drift looks up. The mech staring back at him is stocky and short. He has some grime splattered across his chassis and arms: oil. An engineer. A name does not stick to the face, and Drift takes a quick moment to try and recall it. Nothing.

“Excuse me?” is all his confusion will allow him to say.

“The human.” The stranger gestures to the table. “Are you gonna have it?”

Drift looks down. On the table is a datapad displaying a sparkling’s story with funny little illustrations. Observing the pictures is you. The library is a quiet place. Drift comes here frequently to either read or simply clear his mind. He enjoys bringing you along as well; ever since you found out there was a library aboard the Lost Light, you have shown a strong fascination with Cybertronian writings. He doesn’t know if you get the gist of what they mean, but you give him such excited, pleading looks when he lets you observe them, that he can’t help but let you indulge. So, he provides you with simple readings. The ones with pictures are what you seem to enjoy best. You’d sit there for hours if you could, looking at the datapad and trying to quietly sound out the Cybertronian words to yourself. It’s not something you do well, but Drift finds it so adorable. You attempting to mimic his language just proves how clever you are.

He loves to watch you do this, and he frequently jumps in to help you say certain words right. Most of the time the two of you are quietly repeating them to each other in a sort of simple lesson. It’s one of the many things the two of you do as a bonding experience. Primus, Drift loves it.

So who the hell is this random mech to barge in and interrupt by asking if he can have you?

“Um.” Drift chuckles in disbelief. “They’re not for sale. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, nonono.” The mech shakes his head and laughs too. “I don’t want to buy them from you. I want to borrow them. I’ve never had the chance to get my servos on one of these little beauties. It’s rare to find a human that doesn’t already have an owner.” He leers at you, swiping his glossa over his lips. “If you let me have a taste, I’ll pay you. However much you want, name your price.”

You, who has been silently observing this entire interaction, shrink back nervously. Drift sees the way you look at the other mech in fear, and his mood immediately darkens. Something sour builds in his spark. He slowly reaches forward and curls his digits around you. It’s an obvious display of possessive protection.

“They’re. Mine,” he growls. The sound is deep and dangerous, continuing on after he spoke his words. Though he doesn’t notice, you are clearly shaken by it. Chirping softly, you press your hand against his palm, trying to get his attention. But he only tightens his hold, never breaking eye contact with the threat before him.

“Dude, I know they’re yours.” The other mech is clearly unaffected by Drift’s hostility. “You can spare a bit of time with them, can’t you? C’mon, just let me have a taste.”

He makes a grab for you. Drift’s instincts kick in, and he snatches you away. You yelp when he presses you against his chassis. He makes a mental note to apologize to you later, but right now he needs to play the part of big bad mech. There can be no sign of weakness here. This stranger is clearly bent on stealing you from him. He won’t let that happen. You are his little one. His.

Drift rises to his pedes, his growls elevating. The other mech doesn’t show any ounce of care and growls back, armor rising to clack. “I’ve waited for so long to try one of these things,” he says. “This might be my only opportunity! Just let me have them!”

“They aren’t a thing,” Drift hisses. “They are a human. And if you can’t show them the proper respect and care they deserve, then you have no right to own this one, let alone any.”

“You think just because you're third in command to the captain that you can lecture me on how to treat a human?” The mech gets into Drift’s face and flashes his fangs. “You don’t even know me! I’m not going to hurt it! I just want a taste! Is that so hard for you to allow?”

“When it comes to a bot like you? Yes. It is.” Drift doesn’t waver. He’s taller than this mech. Stronger, too. Faster, and better at fighting. If it comes down to such actions unfolding, then so be it. He will do anything to protect his little one.

Speaking of you…you cower in his servos, trying your best to appear invisible. He looks down at you, debating on how to handle this. The other mech obviously doesn’t intend on backing off any time soon, and if things do come down to a fist fight, he obviously can’t defend you like this. His best option for keeping you safe is swallowing you.

The engineer puffs out his chassis and revs his engine. It’s a challenge.

Drift accepts it. But not in the way he is thinking.

He raises you high above his faceplate and lets you drop a little, until he has the back of your shirt pinched between his forefinger and thumb. You kick your legs and squeal, alarmed, and his spark wrenches at the sight. He wants to comfort you. He needs to comfort you. But he can’t, not while he’s making a show of this in order to prove he isn’t someone to be messed with. So despite how disgusted he is with taking advantage of your fear, despite how this makes him feel like a little piece of Deadlock is rising from the grave, he goes through with his decision and decides that if he wants to keep you protected, he needs to scare the other mech off…even if you are scared shitless too.

He lets you go. Your high-pitched scream is abruptly cut off when you land in his intake and he quickly snaps his jaws shut. Slicking you up with solvent, he tilts his helm back and swallows you, swiftly, but gently. He makes sure the other mech can see you travel down his throat. You are nothing more than a little bulge that disappears into his chassis and is quickly consumed.

The engineer stares. His mouth is open like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

Drift licks his lips and continues growling, as loudly as he can. He watches the other mech’s helm lower, optics on the floor. Intimidated. Good.

“Never come near me or my human again,” he says. “They’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine.”

The challenger offers no protest. Drift pushes past him and leaves the library, not looking back.

You have never seen this side of Drift before.

When he swallows you, he is always careful with you. He takes things slow, allowing you to move along with his pace, giving you every opportunity to tell him no, you don’t want this right now.

However, this case is entirely different. He didn’t even give you a chance to gather your bearings before he was tossing you into his mouth and gulping you down with a rushed sense of urgency. Oh, he was gentle. Of course he’s always going to be gentle with you. But after watching the way he interacted with that strange mech, who you know wanted to eat you just from the way he had been looking at you like a lion looks at a fresh piece of meat, you can understand why he’s being so quick. This is being done for your preservation.

But god, that doesn’t mean this isn’t terrifying.

Everything around you shakes as you are pushed deeper and deeper within him. His esophageal muscles are tight, the rolling sensation of being swallowed not as soothing as it should be. His growls ring in your ears and leave you feeling rattled. He sounds dangerous. He sounds like an animal.

It scares you.

When you make it to his stomach, you are practically shoved inside. There is no chance to catch your breath, no opportunity for you to nestle in and get comfortable. The walls move in to give you the tightest squeeze of your life. You are squished uncomfortably between living cables that pulse with the bright, possessive desire to never let you go. Every angle is taken up by him. All you can see is blue biolight. And all you can hear are his throaty rumbles.

There is no end to it. Even when you feel his stomach gently sway with the rest of his body as he walks away, the organ only holds you closer, gurgling possessively. You feel like you are being told that you are his. Because you are.

You should be consoled by this fact. But no such feeling comes to compete with the claustrophobic dread that fills you.

Drift is fuming when he stomps back into his habsuite. He paces back and forth, then drags his chair back and sits in it with a heavy puff of exhaust. Tapping his digits against his desk, he imagines his fist grabbing that engineer by the back of the helm and smashing his faceplate into the nearest wall. How dare he? How dare he just waltz up to him and ask to taste his little one? The nerve of some bots!

I’ll have to put in a word to Ultra Magnus, he thinks. That engineer should be dismissed. He shouldn’t even be on the Lost Light. Disgusting behavior like that should be punished. It has to-

He hears a soft whimper. His digits halt their fidgeting. He looks down at his middle and has his internal sensors scan your little form. Your heart rate is through the roof. Your breathing is erratic and unsteady. And…oh no. Oh, no, no, no. You're trembling.

He loosens his grip on you and gives you room to move. But when that doesn’t do the trick, he decides that keeping you in there while you are in this state will only distress you further. So he clenches his tank muscles again, and pushes you upward, back through his esophagus and into his mouth. He slips you into his servos with practiced ease, turning you gently so you are on your back. You are covered in his solvent, chest heaving as you look up at him. Then, to his horror, you turn away from him and curl up into a little ball. You are still shaking. His spark sinks.

He gently deposits you onto his desk and fetches one of his fluffiest blankets to wrap you in. You don’t resist him. You just sit there, giving him those big sad eyes you have whenever you are scared.

“Little one?” Drift whispers.

You chirp softly and hide your face. He whines. “No, no, don’t do that.” He hooks his index digit under your chin and tilts your head up. “Look at me, little one. Please.”

You're still so afraid. He realizes that his big act in front of the engineer really affected you. Guilt rises. There has to be a way to get through to you and show you that he’s still the gentle Drift you know.

He leans forward, cupping you close. Lowering his helm to be at your level, Drift coos out the call you always make when you want his attention. “Hello,” he murmurs in the foreign tongue. “Hello. Hello, hello.”

You perk up a little when he mimics your calls. Tentatively, you say it back. “…Hello.”

Drift beams. “Hello, little one.” He ruffles your hair, chuckling when you lean into his touch. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I…I had to show him that you are mine. I don’t want anyone trying to take you from me. They could hurt you. And if that happens…I’ll never be able to live with myself.”

You seem to understand that he’s asking for your forgiveness. Sighing, you shuffle forward and reach out, pressing your hands against his nose. You chirp; much of it is indecipherable. But then…you begin to speak. Not in your language. In Cybertronain.

“Love you,” you say to him. “Love you…love you, Drift.”

He doesn’t know when you learned it. But he knows it’s the first time you’ve said it. He is your first I love you.

He can’t contain himself. Drift purrs louder, cuddling you. “I love you too, little one. I love you so, so much.”

You like cuddles. You deserve them. Today was a rough day for both of you. But knowing you still trust him is relieving. And he promises you…he swears to you, he will never allow anyone to try and threaten you again.

#gator answers #gator writes #desperation vs domestication #drift x reader #tasty au #first contact au #transformers first contact #transformers first contact au #soft vore #safe vore #sfw vore

74 notes · View notes

shineonyoucrazyyandere · 2 days

Note

Which joestar do you think would be the worst yandere? And why

Pick your poison! I like to think the Joestar’s all have their little traits that shine the most based on their personality (so whose the worst can depend on what you’re uncomfortable with). Going to do just the og verse jojo’s for this 1-6.

Jonathan : Very sweet almost intoxicatingly so, but he tends to end up a bit overprotective/just a bit babying. Insisting he does things for you, if you have some issue somewhere else? Why not let him resolve it. Don’t fret over too much he has the means to take care of you. There might be a time or two your room might be locked if you’re a little more stubborn than usual

Joseph: What is this thing called “personal space” ? It almost sounds like a foreign language to this man. He totally didn’t mess certain things up so you happen to meet up with him. Not sure why your date stood you up? He couldn’t possibly give an answer other than they’re not worth your time since they didn’t bother showing up. He should take you to this great place he loves going to after a long day.

Jotaro: Stalking type usually, and mows past anything that he might feel gets in the way of you and himself. He’s used to punks, so he’s not afraid to pummel someone if they don’t get the message to scram. When it comes to classes, he’s glancing at you every so often, maybe there’s a “doodle” or two in his notebook. Need to walk somewhere? He’ll walk with you. If you’re hiding out to be alone, he ends up finding you. You’re probably the reason he learns any building’s layout in the first place. Clubs or class cleaning doesn’t stop Jotaro either, he’ll wait as long as it takes. Being sick at home doesn’t stop him either, usually there’s some kind of hot soup/dish that’s good to eat while sick sitting in your room somehow. (Not to mention potential kidnapping later down the line if you’re not really cooperating)

Later Parts like 4 and 6, he’s pretty similar in dropping you off things even if you never once told him your address. (He has a decent memory of these things). Similarly Jotaro has any phone numbers you have in his contacts, and he’ll have a talk personally with anyone that he isn’t fond of approaching you. He tends to have you in the back of his mind while out on his studies, or writing a paper, and yet again drawings somewhere he’s compelled to place them. Every so often he checks in on you (whether you want this or not doesn’t matter). Broken down car? It’s either replaced swiftly or he’s driving you places himself. Maybe he somehow (forces) nudges you to live with him.

Josuke : He’s head over heels for you, and similar to Joseph he’s going to take any opportunity to squeeze himself into your life. He just so happens to have some leftover lunch from that place you like? You looked sad when they had sold out of your favorite meal there, so why doesn’t he help with that? Speaking of, maybe your eyes are drifting somewhere else. He steals any potential love letters to a crush and rewrites them, making it look like you’re confessing to him. He may also leave one of your favorite treats you like in its place. It’s an enigma to you how he found that out.

Giorno : He’s the don of the Italian mafia, he’s almost constantly worried about you. So if he has eyes on you, it’s almost immediate you lose autonomy whether born in Italy or a tourist. He’s clever in his ways to trap you, whether you’re resistant or not doesn’t matter. (he does think you’re cute with a strong head on your shoulders). There’s some of that charisma he possess all the same just like his father. Even if it doesn’t work on you, it makes others around you to trap you easily. Giorno likes to think he gives you a lot of leeway with voluntarily coming to him. He’ll meet you casually in coffee shops or wherever you’re willing to shop at. The bill is covered without you having to say a word. Any cash you used is miraculously brought back to you somehow. The blond isn’t afraid to get his hands a little dirty however when it comes to you. If he has to take something for you to step into his arms (whether it’s your ability to walk around outside or someone close to you) he’ll do whatever it takes.

Jolyne : Sure she stalks somewhat, but like her father she can be bold in taking care of the competition. She’s not afraid to hold your hand or finding a way for you two to do so. Eavesdropping is something she does occasionally, and anyone that wants to stomp on your heart is going to get stomped themselves. She does delay you with stone free (or outright captures you) if Jolyne doesn’t want you to leave. It’s impossible to shake her off, no matter what you try to do. Of course she made a copy of your apartment key, what if there’s an emergency? Maybe she wanted to make you breakfast. Huh? What do you mean she can’t just walk in unannounced? Don’t be ridiculous.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere jjba #yandere jjba imagines #yandere jjba x reader #jjba imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere jonathan joestar #yandere joseph joestar #yandere josuke higashikata #yandere giorno giovanna

62 notes · View notes

group-dynamic · 15 hours

Text

Spoilers for Dot and Bubble

Can't stop thinking about the ending of Dot and Bubble

Can't stop thinking about the doctor being rejected even when he's trying so hard to save them. That, yes, his compassion is wider than the horizon, but his pain of not being good enough explodes into disbelief and strange acceptance that all he can do is laugh and scream. How this plays into that core theme of the season: that he and Ruby share feelings of rejection and loss of identity from begin abandoned as children: a fear that they have something about them that they can't control that makes them unlovable and that's why they were abandoned. That his fears are proven true in a very real and visceral way in this moment. This is his 73 yards, but unlike Ruby's rejection being so far away and blurred, his is direct and devastating and painted on him by race. And this maybe shouldn't work. Because what is the Doctor's experience of blackness, really? How does that really relate to his rejection in the context of the show? So far, it doesn't beyond the context of this episode. . .

Except, the Doctor is played by Ncuti Gatwa.

Ncuti Gatwa who was cast to play the doctor and summarily rejected by so many fans and non-fans of the show simply because he is a black man. That his race mattered so much to them: these white supremacist, chronically online monsters who hate him so much that any calls for reason, any reassurance of no matter what you say or feel I am here to be the Doctor, to be this hero, to carry this legacy, and I am here, waiting to take you with me on this journey because I have that much love and that much potential for forgiveness and I want to be and will be that hero for you.

And they say: no.

I can't stop thinking about the ending of Dot and Bubble.

#dw spoilers #doctor who #dot and bubble

55 notes · View notes

braunbakery · 3 days

Note

oohh can it be like ‘are we still friends?’ a modern au? that’s one of my favs ❤️

don't delete the kisses

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader [ one-shot word count: 4.2k]

☞ sfw, angst with fluff at the end i promiseeeee, modern college au

☞ plot: 'rewriting old excuses, delete the kisses at the end' - even after you break up - jean kirstein seems to occupy a lot more space in your head than you'd care to admit.

☞ inspired by don't delete the kisses - wolf alice

☞ don't delete the kisses

when you and jean first broke up it was more so a scramble to make sure everything was okay for everybody around you. that everything could resolve to being as close to normal as before without anyone feeling in anyway inconvenienced, awkward, or disappointed due to the rift now between the two of you.

at least, that was what it was like for you.

of course people wanted to make sure you were okay, they were your friends and they cared about you. but they were both of your friends, and despite how much everyone wanted to pretend that that made no difference, it made it all the more difficult to even imagine talking about how you felt. (how you actually felt – which was more than disappointed or frustrated or a little upset – as you had been basically rattling off like a mantra to whoever asked.)

so you adapted.

you made friends outside of this mutual friend group, you adopted new hobbies, you had a means of escape when you no longer wanted to watch everyone laugh over jean’s antics like he was such a breath of joy. when you felt this bitter pessimism sink in at the wrong time, you adapted.

because it definitely wasn’t a dramatic break up. it was perfectly amicable.

(“i’m so sorry,” jean practically sobs into your shoulder as you both sit in his dark car, shrouded by the trees outside and only accompanied by crickets and the occasional distant car horn.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you’re repeating over and over, swallowing your own tears, “i’ll be fine.”

“i just can’t do it–” jean hiccups and slightly leans back to hold your face in his palms and nudge his nose against yours, “ i don’t know why...i just can’t. and i’m trying, i swear.”

“i believe you,” you whisper, grasping onto his shirt, “i know you are.”

“i- i’ve never felt this way about anyone else. i’m just not ready.”

you can’t bring yourself to say anything back to that. you don’t want him to see you break and you don’t know if it’s because you don’t want him to tear himself apart with the guilt of what he’s doing to you or from some twisted sense of pride – some desire to make sure he doesn’t think he has as much of an effect on you as he really does.

it seems worse that he can tearfully speak of how much he feels for you yet he’s still unable to actually be with you.

you know that the truth is you probably won’t be fine. that in your heart, in your soul, you would’ve stayed with him for as long as possible. there was no thought in your head of when this would potentially end, no plan in the future that didn’t somehow automatically account for him.

this obviously wasn’t the case for him.

he hugs you tighter than he ever has before and you feel like your heart is about to lurch out of your body and try batter its way into his. why must it be that when you are completely and utterly committed to him, he is hindered by some unexplainable force in his mind to do the same for you? why can’t it be another girl? why can’t it be that he’s moving away? why does it have to be just…him?

“i’m sorry,” he says a final time after he drives you to your doorstep. he holds your hand and gazes at you one last time and you can’t help but offer him a smile to try ease his pain. it is too difficult for you to feel in anyway betrayed, at least in this moment, because you are too busy thinking of how he feels. you want to hold him for the rest of the night as he sobs and sobs about hurting you.

you feel utterly pathetic.

that night, when you are finally in your bed, you let the first feeling that isn’t in some way catering to him through. it is the sensation of your heart caving in. )

eventually it gets easier. the concerned glances go from sparse to none and you follow almost a routine. when you pass each other on campus it’s a friendly smile, when you’re seated next to each other you act as if it is anyone else, and when you’re at the same parties and he kisses someone you turn away and hold your breath and hope no one can tell.

you pretend that it was never you on the receiving end, that it was never you laughing away with him or swaying to whatever stupid song is playing, or holding his hand as you weave through the crowd, or occupying one single corner of the room for the majority of the night or–

you just pretend.

and when the group brings up dates jean is going on that you had no idea about, you do that very thing. you sit and you nod and when he catches your gaze as the boys are practically squawking over stupid jokes about jean and how he is somehow going to mess it up, you rip your eyes away and laugh along.

when sasha and mikasa ask how you feel about it, you pretend it makes perfect sense that he’d be going on dates. that it isn’t so utterly confusing, that you aren’t going to lay awake at night wondering why he couldn’t be with you – why he wasn’t ready for you – but he is ready to entertain the idea of someone else. you laugh and you say you wish him luck.

luck is what friends wish each other.

and when you kiss someone yourself, you bury the darkest feeling of hoping he’d see and feel a pang – feel anything more than the baseline friendliness you’ve both resorted to having for each other. that you’ve agreed to only have for each other.

(“fuck, sorry!” jean exclaims before he even realises that the person he’s just walked into and spilled half of his beer on is you.

“shit,” the sticky liquid is soaking through your shirt and is currently trailing its way down your body. you look up at him and you hate that you can tell the redness lightly painted on his cheeks is more so from his alcohol buzz and less from the embarrassment of spilling his drink down a girls shirt.

because it’s you. why would he be embarrassed around you? he knows–

he knew you inside and out.

“i didn’t see you, i swear,” he says, but the genuineness of his apology is given away by the cheeky smile adorning his face, “suits you though.”

“shut up, jean,” you quickly remark, taking off your jacket and trying to pat yourself dry.

“here,” and jean is suddenly taking off the plaid shirt he has thrown on top of his t-shirt and using it to pat you down. or more so using it for his sad attempt at helping.

“i don’t think that’s really doing anything, jean.”

“no, no. trust me,” he quickly interjects, and you can’t help but mirror the stupid smile he has on his face.

“jean, it’s fine. i’ll just get a paper tow– ”you attempt to side step him, but he’s shoved in front of you, still pushing his shirt to your top. but this time he’s a lot closer.

this time if you just reached up to your tip toes, you could brush your nose against his. and you’re suddenly hyperaware of your proximity and how there is no one else around you and how the blaring music of whatever party your group all decided to go to tonight is all but muffled in this kitchen.

jean’s eyes travel up from the stain on your top to you and you feel like you’re frozen in place. it’s been months since you broke up – a year maybe. you’ve both watched each other kiss other people, you’ve listened to him recount those stupid dates and pretend you don’t harbour some kind of bitter resentment towards him for it.

but right now it seems like no time at all has passed.

it seems like only yesterday you were leaning into each other, just like you are now. it seems like only yesterday jean’s hand slowly but instinctively went up to the side of your neck, like it is now. you’ve never realised how easy it is to fall into old habits.

“jean?” you mutter faintly, and he looks down at your lips mouthing his name and you swear you think your heart is going to stop. his eyes flick back up to you and you can see yourself through them.

“yeah?” he mindlessly responds, “are you okay?”

are you? you could kiss him now. you could let him kiss you now. just for a moment. and tomorrow you’d make yourself forget, tomorrow you’d pretend it was one big blip – something just between you and him.

when you nod your head at his question his hand slides up into the hair at your nape and it feels so familiar, so comfortable, that it is so easy to forget you have not been this close to jean in almost a year. you have not spent this much time alone with jean in almost a year. you have not heard him not speak to you in the same transactional tone you’d speak to a shop assistant with in almost a year.

“i –”

the door to the kitchen is opening behind you and you’re both practically jumping away from each other, hearts beating so fast against your chests and eyes wide and worried. jean watches whoever’s interrupted whatever weird moment you were having rummage through the cupboards and looks back at you.

“i’ll see you–” you start.

“later.” he instinctively finishes off for you, before pausing for a moment and making his way around you and back out into the bustling party.

you don’t see him for the rest of the night.)

it does really start feel like you’re friends sometimes. and you suppose living with that just becomes a way of life. the weird lingering feeling when you first see him still remains – but it starts to feel normal. you start to simply allow it the space to live and hope that on its own accord it’ll leave.

and sometimes, with all the time that has passed and all the other flings with boys you’ve had, it feels stupid. and sometimes, you’re tired of feeling stupid so you just feel it.

you text about assignments in classes you share, you text about carpooling when jean is bringing a few of you somewhere. and, yes, it is the most surface level friendship and the conversation will never really expand from those two topics and maybe you are yet to actually spend any time together alone. maybe there is some hidden agenda between your friends to not let there be moments where you two have to be alone – but this is better than whatever the lonely alternative would be.

however, it seems whatever way your friends have been figuring out to not have you two alone for the past year and a half (disregarding the party incident – they will never know about that) is failing.

because you’re currently stranded at a bus stop for a bus that doesn’t look like it will ever come, trying to make it to connie’s house for his goodbye party before he goes away for the summer and almost an hour late. because you’re staring down at your phone trying to figure out how you feel, trying to reason with your gritted teeth and racing heart that everything will be okay.

staring down at jean’s message into the group chat you all share after you’ve explained your situation.

jean

Only leaving mine now I’ll swing by and get you

fuck.

this is not something you have a plan for. this is not a situation that you’ve dealt with before in the tribulations that have followed your break up. this doesn’t have a solution tucked away in your head. there is no adapting to this, there is no pretending, there is just you alone with jean in his car for the first time since you broke up. the last time you were in that stupid fucking car was when you broke up and oh god, what a joke.

you know he’s driving and he won’t check his phone so there’s no point in telling him not to and figuring out some alternative transport. and you know he’s not waiting for some confirmation from you because…because you know him.

cars are speeding past you and you’re trying so hard to get a handle on your thoughts but you can’t seem to just get a grip. it feels like every next car is going to be him. you turn your back to the road and try to start writing some kind of text to mikasa…but what is there to even say?

you’ve crafted the perfect unbothered-about-jean persona over the past year and a half. you’ve basically mastered a straight face whenever a crude joke is made about him and whatever girl he’s casually seeing, you’ve perfected acting completely normal when asked about him – you cannot give yourself away.

no, you refuse to give yourself away.

“hey!” a voice bellows out from behind you, and you can instinctively tell that when you turn around it’s going to be jean with his elbow hanging out his open car window. so you do – you turn around (and you’re right about his exact pose, but that’s a victory you don’t allow yourself to celebrate) and you make your way to the passenger side, get in, close the door and brace yourself.

“thanks for getting me,” you say as you put on your seat belt and jean pulls out onto the road.

“no worries.”

it’s only when you’re well on your way that you can think of something else to say – any kind of bland conversation to cut you out of your thoughts.

“how come you’re late?”

“how come you are?” jean almost instinctively says.

“no need to get defensive,” you laugh.

“what can i say,” jean smiles, “i’m quite a private person.”

“oh, really?”

“yep,” he swiftly responds, eyes darting to you before he sighs, “i fell asleep watching a movie.”

now you’re cackling, “of course you did, jean.” you try not to notice the corners of his mouth turning upwards as you laugh and he focuses on the road.

“you didn’t say why you were, i can’t be the only one revealing all here.”

“i wouldn’t say this is revealing all,” you say and jean animatedly rolls his eyes, “i was at work.”

“oh,” jean replies, “work…where’re you working now?” he asks with such hesitance, like it’s almost rude for him to want to know anything about your life beyond what he knew when he was with you and the bits and pieces he can put together from everyone else. you try not to think about how you wish you could tell him everything – everything that has changed and everything that hasn’t.

“the same shop.”

“that shop is a shithole–”

“hey!” you’re immediately interjecting and jean is chuckling at your offense.

“it is!”

jean starts swatting your hand away with one hand as you try to punch him in his arm, laughing in a way you haven’t heard him for a while. in a way you haven’t had a chance to hear.

“take it back, take it back” you’re repeating in between lunges and jean exclaiming ‘you’re gonna get us both killed’ and ‘i’m literally driving’.

“fine! i take it back!” he’s saying as the car finally comes to a standstill in a long line of traffic. he looks over to you for the first time this entire ride, turning his entire head and scanning your face. you hope your composure holds, “all i’m trying to say is that it doesn’t deserve you.”

you really hope your composure holds.

“right,” you say after a pause. jean’s eyes flit between yours and you feel like maybe there’s something more you’re supposed to say. maybe there’s something more he’s trying to say. or maybe the ultimately doomed remnants of your feelings towards him combined with his unwavering stare and tapping fingers on his wheel are making you think things and see things that don’t make sense.

jean only turns his head back to the road when a car horn blares behind him and he realises the light’s gone green.

“fuck,” jean raises his hand up to the driver and then glances at you as the car moves again, “sorry.”

“distracted,” you quip, and jean laughs again.

“i guess you could say that.”

“what’s on your mind?” you ask.

“huh? nothing.” his head momentarily turns to you, “beer.” and you both break out into the same smiles you used to wear around each other without noticing.

“not your familiar brigade of girls?” you’re saying without realising, and before you can even begin to regret your stupidly pointed joke, jean is guffawing so loudly you’re convinced he’s going to run the next red light.

“brigade?!” he questions, looking at you with wide eyes, “you’re making me sound like some sort of…” he loses his words and you feel maybe you really did take him by surprise with your unexpected candour.

“some sort of what?” you implore.

jean is silent, then turns to you with feigned annoyance and a twinkle in his eye, “shut up.”

and you’re both laughing and looking at each other and there it is again. that twinkle. that sparkle. you could miss it if you didn’t know exactly where to find it from so long ago.

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you and you can tell connie’s house is nearby. jean speaks first, “i can assure you there’s no such brigade.”

you snigger, “i don’t need to be assured.”

then jean is pulling into connie’s house and you can slightly make out music blaring from inside and silhouettes through the drawn curtains and the last bit of light from the late summer sun. he turns off the engine and you wait for him to take out his keys, yet he never does. you stare at the door handle, yet never go to pull it. neither one of you is making a move and when you turn your head to him, he’s already looking at you.

“i– ” “i–” you both attempt to start simultaneously, and then cut yourselves off with laughter.

“we haven’t spoken properly in so long,” jean eventually starts, “like this i mean.” (your heart is in your throat. you wonder if he can make out its outline when he looks at you.)

“yeah,” you softly say, “i know.”

“it’s nice.”

“it is.”

you’re looking at each other in silence again, and you can tell that his mind is racing with thoughts and he’s waiting to see which one catches onto his tongue and makes its way out. you think he can probably tell the same about you. it’s like some kind of competition, some game on who is going to keep this conversation going so you can stay in the car together for longer. alone.

you wonder if anyone inside has peeked through the window and noticed yet.

“you know…” jean speaks again and you are internally grateful, because you don’t think you can trust yourself to say anything right now, “you know, i notice that you avoid me, right?”

“that is not true.”

jean practically giggles at your immediate denial.

“it is,” he says, “it’s fine. i think i understand.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i–” jean trips over his own words, like they keep getting muddled in his mouth and he has to sound them out in his head before he can continue, “like… i can imagine it’s not easy. it wasn’t for me.”

your eyebrows instinctively raise, “it wasn’t?”

he laughs, and you suppose it is stupid to assume that he wasn’t in anyway upset about breaking up or stressed about having to maintain a friendship with you. you suppose it was easier to assume he didn’t care about you, like he was some kind of heartless villain.

“well, was it for you?”

you pause. a decision: how honest can you be with the person that seems to have haunted you for so long?

“no,” you shake your head, “not really. not at first.”

now jean’s eyebrows raise, “so it is now?”

“i… i don’t know,” the words practically tumble out of you, “why are you asking?”

your phone buzzes in your lap and both of your eyes instinctively dart to the lit up screen.

mikasa

You coming in?

you look back up at the house and can spot the curtain rustling. you’ve been noticed. but when you look back at jean, regardless of whatever audience might be wondering what you two are still doing in the car, you still have no desire to leave. this might be the only chance you have to finally be honest with yourself – with anyone – about how you feel.

you take a deep breath, and jean watches you carefully.

“you…” you try to start, unsure of what you’re saying or what you’re trying to achieve, “you know you really hurt me?”

“i know,” jean nods, regret undeniably flashing in his eyes, “i will always feel so bad–”

“you made me feel…small. like i wasn’t enough–”

“you are enough,” jean looks like he’s almost pleading with you. it feels like you’re back in his car on that damned night. like you’re back walking on eggshells and waiting for one to finally pierce through your foot.

“then…then why would you go on dates when you said you weren’t ready for a relationship? that you couldn’t do it?”

your throat feels raw and tight. you cannot break in front of him again. jean seems surprised to hear his words from that night repeated back to him.

“i don’t know. it was stupid,” he breathes, “i…i was trying to forget.”

“forget what?”

“forget you.”

it feels like if the world was to collapse around you, you would not be able to bat an eyelid if you were to remain in this car with jean. it’s a terrifying thought and it feels like the rush of your blood and the pulsing of your heart is going to get too big for your body and you’re going to burst.

“and did it help?” you slowly ask – and you don’t know why. you don’t know why it matters. you’re over. you’ve been over. whatever he answers doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything. it won’t change anything.

right?

jean is staring at you with enough intent to make you want to melt, like he means to take in every part of your face and sear it into his memory. it makes your head foggy.

“i…” jean’s chest is rising and falling and only then do you notice that yours is as well. and you are out of breath.

“you?”

“i was scared. you’re… you’re so good and i’m–” he’s practically mumbling. but you can hear him, you always hear him, “i don’t know what i am. it just felt like i was going to ruin you.”

suddenly a tear is rolling down your cheek. and another and another and jean is leaning into you like he’s meaning to catch them.

“why didn’t you say that?” you whisper.

“because i didn’t deserve you,” he says like it is the most obvious thing, “i don’t deserve you.”

“jean…” your hand is reaching up to his jaw, and you’re cupping his cheek without even thinking, thumb swiping over stubble, “that’s not true.”

“i don’t say the right things,” jean interjects, “i don’t do the right things. i never did. it just feels like i’ve been living in…some fucking limbo around you.” he leans his head on your hand, and then slowly picks up your other one and laces his fingers through it.

his hand fits like always. like it’s meant to.

you sigh, “what do you want from me, jean?”

“for you to not hate me.”

you giggle, “unfortunately, i could never hate you.” you feel his teeth against your palm as he beams at you, eyes watering and heart pounding.

“i… i want you.”

“really this time?”

“there was never a time i didn’t.”

he peers at you, like he’s trying to see into your head and unravel your thoughts one by one to read for himself. this time when he nestles his head into your hand again, he brings his head closer and closer to you, until you feel his breath fanning your damp cheeks.

nose to nose.

“please just let me…” he murmurs, eyes unwavering and hand gripping yours.

“okay,” you say softly, and he’s slowly but surely kissing you like you’re made of glass. like any wrong move and you will crumble right in front of him. you can feel the final tears that were resting on your waterline make their way down your face and he pulls away to let go of your hand and wipe them away.

he presses his lips to the exact spot on your cheek where they once were.

“i’m not stupid anymore,” he says. you laugh quietly.

“okay.”

“and i want you.”

you nod your head and he smiles, then kisses you again.

#jean x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan fic #aot fic #aot angst #aot fluff #jean kirstein fluff #snk fic #snk x reader #aot college #aot moderm au #jean kirstein fic

49 notes · View notes