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ma1dita · 4 months

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crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies

(posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!”

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long.

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right…she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother.

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated?

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual.

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head.

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table….You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime.

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection.

Devotion.

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away.

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not.

But you two are just friends.

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids…and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable…or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin.

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh…I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience.

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin.

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.”

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees. Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stoll brothers put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

“Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places...That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way…I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon…but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart.

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on. When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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natashasfilms · 10 months

Text

You’re Losing Me

Summary: Dating a colleague has always been an exhilarating experience. However, as you reach a point where you’re ready to take the relationship further after spending years together, doubts start to creep in. You begin questioning whether you’re the only one putting effort into saving something that seems to be slowly fading away.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: taylor swift’s song “you’re losing me”, angst, fluff, coworker relationship, language, drowning, stabs, injuries, usual criminal minds stuff, use of y/n, lovers to exes to lovers again, not really unrequited love, insecurity, making out, happy ending

Word Count: 7,938 (the longest one shot i’ve written so far…)

Note: It’s been so so so long since I’ve posted anything on here, so enjoy a little Aaron Hotchner one shot! I’m think of writing an Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds series, similar to my Steve Harrington/Stranger Things series, but it may take me a while to finish writing the entire thing. Maybe I’ll write a few chapters and then upload those and write along as I go but I don’t want to do that in case I lose motivation throughout the midst of it. We’ll see what happens! It’s just that I’m super busy but I have such great ideas for this series!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

As the sunlight slowly filtered through the windows, you began to awake from your slumber. Opening your eyes, you gazed at the ceiling and felt the comforting embrace of a pair of arms around your waist. Turning your head, you smiled at the man sleeping beside you and planted a gentle kiss on the top of his head. After disentangling yourself from his arms, you got out of bed.

Quickly, you took a shower, brushed your teeth, and dressed for the day. Upon leaving the bathroom, you found your boyfriend, Aaron, sitting at the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Morning, Aaron.” You greeted him.

He looked up with a grin, standing up to meet you. “Morning.” He responded, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom himself.

You then entered Jack’s room to wake him up and get him ready for school. Seeing him still asleep, you approached with a gentle touch, waking him with a soft rub on his head. “Jack, sweetie, it’s time to wake up.”

Jack groaned, still half-asleep. “Five more minutes.”

You chuckled, playfully poking his cheek. “Come on, buddy. You’ll be late for school.” Eventually, Jack sat up in bed, and you left his room with a cheeky smile.

Preparing breakfast for your two boys, you heard footsteps down the hall. Setting the plates on the table, you watched as Jack settled into his seat. “Thank you, Y/N! This looks good!”

Nodding, you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead before you and Aaron sat down at the table. He reached out to hold your hand as a gesture of thanks, which made your heart flutter with affection.

After bidding Jack farewell and dropping him off at school, you and Aaron began your drive to work. Upon arriving, you entered the office first, as your relationship with Aaron was not public knowledge except to Strauss. You both agreed to keep it quiet to avoid potential workplace issues, though you wouldn’t mind being open about it if the opportunity arose. You weren’t entirely sure how Aaron felt about that.

Sitting at your desk, you watched Aaron make his way upstairs to his office, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention. Your colleagues, Emily, Derek, Elle, Spencer, and JJ, were already at their desks, engaged in friendly chatter while working on their paperwork. You joined in, laughing at Emily and Derek’s playful banter.

At times, you felt the urge to spend more time with Aaron in his office, but you respected his decision to keep your relationship private. However, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were the only one who truly cared about the relationship. Four years together, and you were eagerly awaiting for him to pop the question. But that seemed to be indefinitely postponed. It sometimes felt like you were the only one putting effort into the relationship.

Fortunately, the entire day turned out to be pleasantly light. With no new cases, the office was buzzing with paperwork and fueled by several cups of coffee. Every so often, Penelope would come over to chat with all of you, as she often felt lonely in her own office. Her presence brought joy, and you always welcomed her with a warm smile, her infectious happiness lifting your spirits.

As the day drew to a close, the office was nearly empty, with only you, Aaron, and Elle remaining on the current floor. Elle grabbed her bag, ready to head out.

“See you tomorrow, Elle.” You called out, waving.

Elle smiled back at you. “You’re leaving right now, right?”

You nodded, turning to your desk to organize your files. “Yep, just need to gather these files and hand them over to Hotch.”

Her eyes shifted to the man in question, who was still seated at his desk in his office. “Does he ever sleep?” Elle asked, furrowing her brows.

Chuckling, you stood up. “I’d like to say yes, but he’s practically a robot.”

Elle hummed, and her gaze returned to you. “Do you want me to wait for you?” She offered.

You widened your eyes slightly, quickly clearing your throat. “Oh, no, you go ahead. I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“It’s not a problem, honestly.” Elle reassured you, but you waved your hand dismissively.

“No, really. You can go on ahead. I have to ask Hotch a few questions about the paperwork, anyway.”

You noticed a subtle shift in Elle’s eyes, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. “Right. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” She said, bidding you goodbye before making her way to the glass doors and stepping into the elevator.

Feeling a sense of relief, you let out a sigh, almost convinced that Elle had caught on to your and Aaron’s relationship. Shaking your head to dismiss such thoughts, you collected all the files and made your way up to his office, lightly knocking on the door. Aaron’s voice invited you in, prompting you to enter.

As he looked up from his work, his stern expression softened into one of happiness at the sight of you. You couldn’t help but grin, placing the files on his desk. “It’s late, we should get going.”

Furrowing his brows, Aaron checked the time, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t even realize how late it got.” He admitted, quickly gathering the files and organizing everything for the next day.

Both of you exited the building and walked to your car. Settling inside, you watched Aaron start the engine and drive off, your mind preoccupied with thoughts. You were contemplating whether to broach the topic of taking your relationship to the next level or even considering making it public. Although you should have felt at ease discussing it with Aaron, anxiety gripped your heart, causing it to beat rapidly.

Despite knowing Aaron to be the most kind-hearted man you’ve known for years, you couldn’t help but fear his response. You didn’t want this conversation to become a make-or-break moment for your relationship, yet you also couldn’t bear to keep hiding in the shadows any longer.

Arriving at your shared apartment, you both entered, setting your bags down by the door and turning on the lights. With Jack spending the night at Jessica’s, you and Aaron found yourselves alone, creating an opportunity for you to bring up a potentially important conversation.

Deciding to allow yourselves a moment to freshen up and have dinner before broaching the important topic, you wanted to ensure neither of you went to bed hungry in case the conversation didn't go smoothly.

After showering, having dinner, and relaxing, you finally felt ready to initiate the conversation. Throughout the evening, you sensed Aaron’s eyes on you, and it was time for him to ask what was bothering you.

“You’ve been tense all night.” Aaron observed, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you both sat on the couch. “Is something wrong?”

Your mind raced through different approaches to the problem, but you still didn’t feel fully prepared as you began to respond to his question. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

He arched an eyebrow, pulling you closer by wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Care to share?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm your nerves. “Have you ever considered...making our relationship public?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Aaron’s arms dropped from your shoulder. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach, dreading his response.

“Aaron?” You anxiously waited for his answer, but he fell silent, trying to find the right words to respond to you. “Can you please say something?”

Aaron’s face tightened with hesitation as he tried to find the right words to respond to your question. He glanced away, unable to meet your eyes directly, and sighed heavily. “I...I haven’t really thought about going public.” He finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “Our relationship has always been private, and it’s been working for us. I’m afraid of how things might change if we make it public.”

Your heart sank, sensing the reluctance in his response. “But Aaron, we’ve been together for so long, and I’m tired of just hiding our relationship. I want to be with you openly, without constantly worrying about keeping it a secret.” You pleaded, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I know that.” Aaron said, his voice softening. “But we both know how the nature of our work is. If our relationship becomes public, it could jeopardize everything we’ve built here. I can’t risk that, especially for Jack’s sake.”

Frustration and sadness engulfed you, and you felt a surge of emotions welling up inside. “So, you’re choosing your job and keeping up appearances over us? Over me?” You exclaimed, your voice quivering with hurt.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just not that simple.” Aaron replied, reaching out to touch your arm, but you pulled away.

“Then enlighten me, Aaron. What do you mean? Because maybe it’s not simple for you, but it is for me.” You said firmly, your heart breaking. “I can’t keep living like this. I deserve better than this, Aaron.”

He looked torn, his eyes reflecting his own pain. “I don’t want to lose you.” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“But you’re not willing to fight for us.” You responded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Tell me, Aaron. Did you even plan on marrying me?”

His silence spoke louder than words, and it was all you needed to get your answer. The truth hung heavily in the air, and your heart shattered in less than two minutes, your fears coming true. The pain of realization washed over you, leaving you feeling raw and vulnerable.

You desperately wanted things to go back to how they were, to find comfort in the familiarity of your relationship. But deep down, you knew that settling for someone who didn’t put effort into the relationship wasn’t right for you. You deserved someone who cherished and valued you, someone who saw a future with you and was willing to fight for it.

“Looks like you’ve already lost me.” You said, your voice cracking with emotion. You hastily wiped away your tears, determined not to break down completely. Standing up from your spot on the couch, you avoided Aaron’s gaze as you walked away, trying to maintain some composure. “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

The realization that the love of your life might not have felt the same way about you as you thought shattered your heart into pieces. You couldn’t bear to stay in a relationship that made you feel worthless.

What made it even more painful was that Aaron had always been the kindest man you had ever known. He had made you feel loved, supported, and cared for, especially during your lowest moments. However, now, you couldn’t help but question everything.

“Dad?” Jack spoke, catching his father’s attention as he helped put his backpack on. “When is Y/N coming back?”

It had been a week since you and Aaron broke up, and the impact of the decision weighed heavily on both of you. In the aftermath, you moved out of Aaron’s apartment, leaving behind the memories of a once loving relationship. Aaron struggled with the reality that you weren’t living with him anymore. He had tried to apologize and convince you to reconsider, but you remained firm in your decision. You believed that taking some time and space apart was essential for both of you to figure out what you truly wanted.

“I’m not sure, buddy.” Aaron replied to Jack with a gentle smile, masking the turmoil within his heart. “Y/N needed some time to think about things, and we both agreed it was best to take some space for now.”

Jack frowned, sensing that something significant had changed. He missed having you around, and it was hard for him to understand the complexities of adult relationships. But he trusted his father and hoped that things would work out for the best.

Despite your desire for space, maintaining it was extremely challenging when you had to work together. Nevertheless, you were grateful that the rest of the team didn’t seem to notice any change in your demeanor towards each other. You made a concerted effort to act as you always did while on the job, which wasn’t too difficult, considering you had always portrayed your relationship as strictly professional, pretending to know each other only as coworkers.

Aaron despised himself for not being open and honest with you that night, for jeopardizing the relationship you had built over the years. He loved you deeply, and the thought of marrying you had crossed his mind countless times. However, fear had gripped his heart. The pain of losing Haley had left him hesitant about committing to another relationship, and he believed he could never truly move on. Yet, you had always supported him throughout that challenging time. Your constant presence by his side, understanding, and care had gradually allowed him to let go of his fears. Before he knew it, he had become deeply attached to you, and his love for you had grown immeasurably.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you that he didn’t want anyone to know about your relationship. Instead, Aaron feared that making it public might endanger you, given the high-stakes nature of their work and the potential risks involved. He wanted to protect you from any repercussions that might arise if their personal relationship were exposed in the often dangerous and unpredictable world they worked in. Although it pained him to keep your love hidden, he believed it was a necessary precaution to keep you safe. After Haley, he didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

Now, he felt utterly foolish. Regret washed over him as he realized he should have communicated with you more openly, explaining why he felt the way he did instead of leaving you to question his love. The pain of knowing that you thought he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, that you believed he was ashamed of you, weighed heavily on his heart.

He wished he could turn back time and find the courage to share his fears and concerns with you, to let you know just how much he loves and values you. The thought of causing you any hurt had never been his intention, but he had failed in expressing himself clearly.

The team sat aboard the private jet, en route to your destination for a new case that demanded your immediate attention. Three homicides, spread across different cities, all linked by a hauntingly similar MO. The victims shared connections that hinted at a calculated pattern, but local law enforcement had hit a dead end, prompting the call for FBI assistance.

Aaron and you purposefully chose seats away from each other, not wanting to add any awkwardness to the already tense situation. As the team delved further into the case, everyone meticulously examined the evidence within the case files.

You scanned through the disturbing details, striving not to let any grimace betray your inner emotions. Over the years, you had grown accustomed to such gruesome cases that it took an emotional toll on even the most seasoned profilers. Yet, you knew that suppressing your emotions was essential to focus on the task at hand.

“Morgan, Prentiss, and Elle, I want you three to check the latest victim’s crime scene and look for anything new. Reid, JJ, and L/N, I need you to head to the coroner’s office and examine the autopsy reports.” Aaron said, making brief eye contact with you for a second before turning his attention back to the team. “Rossi and I will head to the precinct to talk to the local PD and settle in.”

As soon as the jet landed, you, JJ, and Spencer swiftly made your way to one of the BAU SUVs and drove to the coroner’s office to examine the bodies. You were driving the car, while JJ was in the passenger seat, and Spencer was sitting in the back. You conversed with the other two throughout the entire drive, Spencer spitting his genius facts every now and then.

Once you made it inside, the three of you were greeted by the coroner, who led you to the room where the bodies were laid out. Carefully examining the wounds on the victims, you couldn’t help but notice something intriguing. “They’ve all been stabbed exactly twenty times, each stab in a different part of the body.” You stated, glancing at JJ and Spencer for their input. “This was rage.”

Spencer leaned in, his eyes narrowing with concentration. “The repetitive nature of the stab wounds indicates an intense emotional release, possibly stemming from deep-seated anger or frustration.”

JJ nodded in agreement, her empathy guiding her understanding of the crime scene. “Maybe the unsub had a personal vendetta against the victims, and he was trying to send a message with the way he’s stabbed them.”

Spencer couldn’t help but share one of his characteristic and oddly fascinating facts. “Did you know that throughout history, the number twenty has often been associated with completeness and cycles? It’s interesting that the unsub chose this specific number.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, contemplating the possibility. “Or maybe the number twenty was important to him? It could hold some significance to the unsub, and he chose it to exert control or leave a twisted signature on the victims.”

JJ nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the shared curiosity. “It’s definitely not uncommon for unsubs to attach meaning to their actions or rituals. The number twenty might be a representation of something personal or symbolic to him.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, adding on to you and JJ. “Numerology has been linked to criminal behavior in certain cases. The choice of numbers might reflect the unsub’s belief in its power or its alignment with his twisted motives.”

As you carefully examined the stab wounds on the victims’ lifeless bodies, a particular detail caught your attention. There was an absence of significant bleeding around the wound sites. The wounds appeared uniform in depth and angle, lacking the telltale signs of hemorrhage typically associated with antemortem stabbings.

You turned to the coroner with a furrowed brow. “These stab wounds...they seem different from typical antemortem injuries. Is there any indication that the victims might have been submerged in water before the stabbing?”

The coroner paused, considering your observation. “Well, we did find traces of water in the airways and lungs of all the victims during the autopsies.” The coroner replied. “It’s possible they were drowned before the stabbings occurred.”

“He’s drowning them and then stabbing them?” JJ questioned, her arms crossed against her chest. “What about signs of sexual assault?”

The coroner shook her head. “There were no signs of sexual assault in the report.”

Spencer chimed in, his gaze intense. “It’s possible that this unsub’s violent ritual provides him with a sense of release. The act of drowning the victims may serve as a form of control or domination, followed by the symbolic significance of twenty stabs, and perhaps linked to a personal obsession or fixation.”

You added to Spencer’s insight. “The number twenty might hold significant meaning to him, reinforcing the notion that these killings are deeply personal and methodically planned.”

JJ looked troubled, contemplating the unsettling pattern before you. “If he’s targeting the victims like this, he might have a connection to them. Something in their past could be triggering this cycle of violence.”

You nodded your head, your gaze remaining fixated on the lifeless forms. “Let’s head back and meet with the others.”

The three of you met up with the rest of the team at the precinct, where you all gathered around the crime board, sharing your findings and insights from the investigations. As each detail was added to the board, the case started to take shape, revealing disturbing connections and patterns.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but sense Aaron’s occasional glances in your direction. Part of you hoped he would approach you and start a conversation, maybe even attempt to mend what was broken between you both. Yet, another part of you felt a tinge of relief that he hadn’t approached you, as facing him would only reopen the wounds that were still raw.

It had only been a week since the painful breakup, and you found yourself torn between wanting to be understood and yearning for his apologies, and the need to protect yourself from further heartache. The longing for him to realize his mistakes, coupled with the desire to put the pieces of your life back together, weighed heavily on your emotions.

You also couldn’t help but miss Jack dearly. Saying goodbye to him before you left had been one of the hardest moments, knowing that he couldn’t fully comprehend the reasons behind your departure. The memories of the mornings you spent with him, preparing breakfast and engaging in playful moments, tugged at your heartstrings. You had cherished those moments, but you knew that staying in an emotionally draining situation wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

At the end of the day, exhaustion weighed heavily on the entire team, the toll of the stressful investigation demanding a much-needed rest. However, they were confident in the amount of evidence gathered, giving them a solid foundation to construct a profile when they regrouped.

Reaching the hotel, the team bid each other farewell, knowing they’d reconvene in the morning to continue the investigation. You let out a weary sigh as you entered your room, eager to collapse onto your bed. Shutting the door behind you, you finally allowed yourself a moment of peace. Without delay, you made your way to the bathroom, seeking to refresh yourself after the intense day.

Emerging from the shower, you felt more relaxed. After brushing your teeth, you slipped into comfortable sleepwear, embracing the coziness that enveloped you.

As you were about to settle into your bed, there was a knock on your door. Confusion washed over you, wondering who could be visiting at this hour. Walking cautiously to the door, you peered through the peephole and let out a soft sigh upon recognizing Aaron’s familiar face.

You opened the door, raising an eyebrow, giving him the signal to speak. His nervous demeanor was uncharacteristic of the stoic Aaron Hotchner, who rarely showed any signs of anxiety.

“Can I come in?” He asked, and a part of you wanted to roll your eyes at his request, but you held back your emotions. Suppressing a disgruntled noise, you opened the door wider, allowing him to enter your room.

Aaron wasted no time, quickly stepping inside as if he feared you might change your mind and shut the door on him. His uneasiness was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had driven him to seek you out in this vulnerable state.

With the door closed, you faced him, waiting for an explanation as to why he had come to your room at this late hour. “How are you?” He questioned, and you almost scoffed.

“What do you need?” You asked instead, completely ignoring his question.

His heart twinged with pain when he heard your voice, sensing the coldness in your tone, a reflection of the hurt he had caused. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage, determined to make things right. “I wanted to apologize for everything. I hated how things ended between us, and if I could turn back time, I would do so in a heartbeat just so I wouldn’t be the one who broke your heart.”

Your arms were crossed protectively over your chest, and he could see the struggle behind your eyes as you fought back tears. The mere week of separation had been agonizing, making him yearn for your presence more than ever. He longed to hold you in his arms again, to kiss you like they had for the past four years. But he understood that he couldn’t expect you to forgive him so easily.

“Jack misses you.” He continued, his voice laced with regret. “He asks for you every day, wondering if you’ll come back. It breaks my heart each time he does.” Your heart ached for the little boy, whom you had grown to cherish as your own. “And I miss you too, more than I can put into words. I’m willing to do anything and everything to fix things.”

Your gaze locked with his, and he saw the emotions swirling within you. “Aaron, I don’t know.” You began, and he felt his heart drop, fearing your answer. “How do I know you won’t do the same thing again? You’re only saying this because you realized what you had after you lost me.”

He shook his head, almost reaching for your hands but stopping himself, respecting the space you needed. “No, that’s not true. I’ve always loved you, Y/N. Yes, I was an absolute idiot, but I’m not just saying this because I realized what I had after I lost you. You mean the world to me, and I love you. If you just let me show you that I won’t make the same mistake ever again. I want everyone to know you’re mine, and it was never my intention to hide you away. I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.” His voice was filled with sincerity, pleading for another chance to prove his love and commitment to you.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to think of what to say. “Aaron, I think I need some time.” You said, truthfully. “I just need some space to figure out what I truly want. Throughout all these years, I’ve longed for you to prioritize us, but it never happened. Maybe I was too naive to believe it ever would.” Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, avoiding the pained look on his face. “I love you, too, but I can’t ignore the fact that I wanted you to put me first, instead of this job, and to consider a future together. I wanted to get married, but I don’t think you felt the same.”

He was about to say something, but you held up a finger, needing to continue.

“Honestly, I probably wouldn’t marry myself either.” You confessed softly. “I’ve spent so much time trying to please everyone, especially you. It’s been exhausting, trying to be the perfect girlfriend or even a future wife, when it felt like I was the only one making an effort. I sent you countless signals, hoping you’d notice, but it seemed like you didn’t want to acknowledge the cracks in our relationship.”

You let out a deep breath, relieved to have finally expressed your thoughts that had been brewing for months. Opening your eyes, you looked at Aaron, and his broken appearance tugged at your heartstrings. You longed to turn his frown into a smile, to fix everything, but you knew it wasn’t that simple.

“You’re wrong.” He finally spoke, his voice cracking with emotion. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, listening intently. “Of course I wanted to marry you.” He continued, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “But I was just too scared.”

“Scared of what?” You asked softly, urging him to open up.

“Of losing you, though it seems like I already did.” He said, a sad chuckle escaping his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “After Haley, I never thought I would be capable of falling in love again. I had built walls around my heart, convinced it was safer that way. But then you were always there for me and I let myself fall for you, and it scared me.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, and continued. “I couldn’t bear the thought of putting you in danger because of this job, just like I did with Haley and Jack. I blamed myself for her death, and I didn’t want history to repeat itself. That’s why I kept our relationship hidden. I was afraid it would expose you to unnecessary risks.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his heartfelt confession. “Aaron.” You said, your voice filled with empathy. “You didn’t have to carry all that burden alone. We could have faced it together.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with remorse. “I know, and I should have trusted us more. But my fear consumed me, and I made a terrible mistake by pushing you away.”

You walked closer and reached out to gently touch his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “I understand why you did what you did, but it hurt to be kept in the dark. We could have faced those fears together as a team, just like we always do in these cases.”

“I know, and I wish I had the strength to open up to you sooner.” He whispered, leaning into your touch. “I’m so sorry.”

You leaned your forehead against his, savoring the closeness between you. Bringing your free hand to touch his other cheek, you felt his arms wrap around your waist, drawing you even closer to him. “This could have gone so differently if you had opened up to me, Aaron.” You whispered, looking into his eyes with sincerity. “But I still think we need some time apart. Just for a little bit.”

He closed his eyes, absorbing your words, and then nodded his head. “I know, and if that’s what you want, then I won’t oppose it.”

“Okay.” You whispered back, feeling a mix of sadness and hope in your heart. He stepped back, giving you a soft smile, before he turned to walk towards the door. “Wait.” You called out, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around, and without hesitation, you gently cupped his face in your hands and leaned up to kiss him on the lips. It was a tender, lingering kiss, full of unspoken emotions. He held onto your hands, cherishing the brief moments of the kiss, until you finally let go. “Goodnight.” You murmured, your voice tinged with both affection and uncertainty.

He looked dazed, as if he were in some sort of dream, processing the intensity of the moment. He tried his best to speak, finally managing a quiet “Goodnight” before he turned and left your room.

The next day, the team gathered at the precinct, ready to delve into the evidence with fresh eyes after sleeping. However, it was a restless night for both you and Aaron. Sleep seemed elusive as you tossed and turned, your mind consumed with thoughts of everything Aaron had said. Meanwhile, Aaron found himself replaying the kiss you shared before he left, and he couldn’t shake the weight of your words and emotions regarding your relationship and his actions.

After a few hours of relentless effort, Penelope’s expertise paid off, and she managed to uncover a name and address for the unsub. Putting on your bulletproof vests, the team raced to the SUVs, determined to catch the dangerous individual before he could harm anyone else.

Arriving at the address, you were met with an empty house. The unsub was nowhere to be seen, so you scanned the surroundings for any possible clues. Aaron spoke up, his voice firm. “We need to find any leads, any hints on where he might keep his victims.”

The team split up, meticulously combing through the scene, searching for any shred of evidence that could provide a much-needed breakthrough. The tension was palpable, knowing that every moment counted in preventing further tragedy.

As you examined the area, some of the photos on the wall caught your eye. The pictures consisted of different landscapes, however, when you looked more closely, the pictures seemed to be connected despite it being in separate frames. You called the team over and examined the photos, sending them over to Penelope to help find the location.

Penelope’s voice came through on the comms, her excitement evident. “Guys, I think I’ve found something. The pictures seem to be at a park near the house! I’m sending you the address now!”

As soon as you got the address, you raced out of the house and back into the waiting SUVs, speeding towards the destination. Upon arriving at the location, you split into groups. You, Elle, and Emily formed a team, eyes fixed on the abandoned warehouse nearby. Silently, you pointed towards the building, an unspoken agreement passing between you. You slowly and quietly walked, guns at the ready as you approached the structure.

You skillfully maneuvered around the back, while Elle and Emily advanced with their guns and flashlight inside, searching the shadows for any traces of the unsub. As you searched the back and began to think it was clear, you suddenly felt a forceful grip clamp over your mouth, muffling any sound you might have made. Before you could react, a sharp impact hit your head, sending you reeling into temporary darkness.

As you gradually regained consciousness, your surroundings came into focus, and panic washed over you at the sight of the unsub standing before you. Fear pulsed through your veins as you realized you were weaponless and vulnerable. His sinister laughter sent shivers down your spine, and you knew you had to act fast.

His sadistic grin filled you with dread as he taunted you, relishing the power he held over you. Every instinct urged you to escape, but he had already restrained you with a cruel grip, leaving you little room to maneuver. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you desperately scanned your surroundings for any possible means of escape.

As terror surged through your veins, you realized you were next to a lake. The sight of its dark waters filled you with dread, as you knew the unsub intended to use it against you. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you drew upon every ounce of strength you possessed, mustering a deafening scream in hopes that your team would hear you.

But the unsub was swift as well. Before you could make a move, he forcefully plunged you into the icy water. The coldness was shocking, stealing your breath away as he held you submerged. Panic surged through you as you fought against his unyielding grasp, struggling to resurface for air.

Despite your efforts, he held you down, with no chance of escape. Each time you managed to rise, gasping for breath, he mercilessly forced you back into the depths, determined to drown you just like all the other victims.

As darkness threatened to consume you, your mind raced with thoughts of your team. You wondered if they were close, if they could hear your cries for help, and if they would find you in time. You didn’t even know if they were nearby or if the unsub took you to a different location while you were knocked out. The uncertainty only deepened your desperation, as you clung to the hope that rescue was on its way.

As you struggled to hold on, your strength waned, and you found yourself slipping away, succumbing to the relentless pressure of the unsub’s grip. Helplessly, you surrendered to the suffocating darkness that surrounded you. That’s when a sudden, deafening gunshot pierced the air, tearing through the silence.

In the blink of an eye, the unsub’s hold on you loosened, and you were released from his grasp. He tumbled into the water, gone with a well-aimed bullet through his head. Aaron dropped his gun and leaped into the water without hesitation, desperately reaching for your lifeless form before it could go any deeper.

Emerging from the water’s grasp, Aaron clutched you tightly in his arms as the rest of the team rushed to assist. His heart raced with panic, his mind consumed by the fear of losing you. You were unresponsive, your eyes closed, and the once rhythmic rise and fall of your chest had ceased. Time seemed to stand still as he began chest compressions and performed CPR, his every action fueled by a desperation to revive you.

He had tears streaming down his face and his voice trembled with emotion as he begged you to fight, to come back to him. He refused to accept that this could be the end, that he might lose the person he loved with his entire heart once again. The rest of the team looked on, their hearts heavy with concern, but also filled with hope as they witnessed Aaron’s efforts to bring you back.

Derek kneeled beside Aaron, gripping his shoulders with urgency as he tried to intervene. “Hotch! Stop! Let someone else take over!” He yelled, attempting to divert his attention.

But Aaron was relentless, his focus solely on you. He brushed Derek’s hands aside, determination etched across his face. “I won’t stop until she’s awake.” He declared, resuming his life-saving efforts without a second thought. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he continued to administer CPR.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you coughed and sputtered, water escaping from your lungs. Gasping for air, you struggled to find your breath. Aaron’s arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, holding you close as you fought to regain your composure.

“Oh, thank God.” Emily breathed, her hand pressed against her chest, relief washing over her after the initial fear.

Aaron released his hold on you, and Derek immediately enveloped you in a tight embrace. “Babygirl, you scared all of us.” He murmured, still feeling shaken by the close call. Elle, not one to be left out, quickly shoved Derek away and hugged you with genuine concern.

“We should’ve never let you go out there by yourself.” Elle expressed, feeling guilty that they had split up. “I’m so sorry.”

Emily, kneeling beside you, placed a reassuring hand on your back. “We should’ve gone together.”

You shook your head, offering a small smile to your caring teammates. “Stop blaming yourselves. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen. At least I’m okay now.”

“Yeah, but you were dead for a few minutes.” Emily retorted with a scoff, still grappling with the shock of the situation.

You understood their concern, but you also knew that in their line of work, these moments were unfortunately part of the job. You reassured them. “I’m alright now, thanks to all of you.” And Aaron. You thought. You locked eyes with him, offering a reassuring smile. Though he didn’t return the smile, the glint in his eyes spoke volumes, telling you how grateful he was that you were still alive.

The EMT’s thoroughly checked you over, ensuring there were no other injuries, and concluded that you were fine. You sat at the back of the ambulance, swinging your legs back and forth, absently touching the bandage on your forehead where the unsub had hit you.

As you looked around, you saw the scene filled with law enforcement personnel. The unsub’s lifeless body was being carried away on a gurney, wrapped in a white sheet. A mix of relief and anger washed over you. Relief that he could no longer harm anyone else, and anger that he had taken the easy way out, escaping true justice.

Turning to your right, you noticed Aaron glancing back at you from time to time. Summoning some courage, you raised a hand and waved at him. This time, he smiled. A small yet genuine gesture that warmed your heart. Derek, ever the observant one, caught the interaction and couldn’t help but smirk. Playfully, he nudged Aaron on the shoulder, urging him to talk to you. Aaron, true to his stoic self, gave Derek a brief glare, which only made Derek raise his hands in surrender, laughing as he watched his boss walk away.

Aaron’s voice softened as he spoke, genuine concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

You smiled, appreciating his caring nature. “I’m fine, Aaron.” Patting the spot next to you, you invited him to sit, and he obliged. Turning to face him, you brought your legs up to your chest. “Thank you for saving me.”

He shook his head, gazing up at the sky. “Don’t thank me. I’m just grateful that you’re alive.” His eyes met yours, and you could see the tears welling up. “I should’ve been there to protect you. I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself.”

You reached out to touch his cheek, trying to console him. “It’s not your fault, Aaron. I made the choice to check the back alone while Elle and Emily went inside. The blame lies solely on the unsub. Please, don’t carry that burden on yourself.” As he attempted to hold your hand, you pulled away slightly, causing his heart to ache. You were aware of your team’s eyes on you and didn’t want to fuel any rumors.

“Sorry, they might see us.” You explained.

He scoffed, refusing to let go of your hands. “I don’t care if they see us. It would be a miracle if they didn’t suspect anything. I was going insane while trying to save your life.”

“Aaron–”

“I want everyone to know about us. I don’t care anymore. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I will not let you go. You mean everything to me, and I’m sorry for everything.” His voice trembled with emotion. “Seeing you out there, not breathing, holding your lifeless body in my arms...I swear I didn’t know what I was going to do if you were gone. I love you, Y/N. And I will love you until the day I die.”

At his heartfelt words, you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. You pressed your lips firmly against his, cupping his face with your hands. He held onto your hands, responding with passion and intensity. The week had been long and stressful, but with Aaron finally admitting he didn’t care who saw you together, you embraced the moment, cherishing the love you shared with the man you couldn’t imagine living without.

You pulled away slightly, looking deeply into his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Marry me.” Aaron said, his voice filled with sincerity.

The shock registered on your face, mouth agape. “What?” You asked, your heart pounding.

“Okay, this wasn’t the way I planned on proposing to you, but I couldn’t wait anymore.” He chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours. “Will you marry me?”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing. “I don’t see a ring anywhere.”

He rolled his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “The ring’s hidden in my desk drawer at the office. I was waiting for the right time to propose, but I can’t wait any longer.”

Your eyes softened, and your heart warmed at his sweet gesture. “You bought a ring?”

Aaron nodded, gently kissing your hands. “I told you, I wanted to marry you. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, trying to contain your emotions. “Yes, Aaron Hotchner. I will marry you.” You said, a mixture of excitement and love in your voice.

He grinned, relief and happiness evident in his expression. “You will?” He whispered.

“Yes, a million times yes.” You replied, your heart soaring at the prospect of spending your life with the man you loved.

With that, Aaron pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips meeting yours in a passionate and loving kiss. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the promise of a future together, as partners in both love and life.

“Did you guys really think we didn’t know you two were together all this time?” Rossi questioned, a playful glint in his eyes as the team sat together on the jet, heading home after a successful case. “We aren’t profilers for nothing.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, trying to focus on the paperwork spread out on the table. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the lighthearted teasing. Finally feeling content in your life, you leaned back in your seat, feeling the warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

“It’s true.” Spencer chimed in with a smile. “We always knew you two were dating, but we didn’t say anything because you thought we didn’t know. It’s pretty funny, considering all the looks you give each other when–”

“Reid.” Aaron interrupted, cutting off the young genius before he could go further. The team stifled a laugh as Spencer mumbled out a quick “Sorry,” a sheepish smile on his face, and returned to his book.

JJ grinned mischievously. “Oh, come on, Hotch. We’ve seen the way you look at Y/N, and the way Y/N looks back.”

Elle nodded, adding her own insight. “Yeah, it was kind of adorable watching you two try to keep it a secret.”

You exchanged a knowing glance with Aaron, feeling a mix of amusement and affection. “Well, I guess we weren’t as subtle as we thought.” You admitted, a smile tugging at your lips.

His lips threatened to curl up into a smile, and you noticed it, playfully bumping your shoulders against his. He tried to maintain his composure, looking away and focusing his attention back on the paperwork, but his mind seemed to betray him as a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness at seeing that smile, knowing that you were the one who could bring it out in him. He was the tough and stoic leader to everyone else, but with you, he allowed himself to be vulnerable and open.

The rest of the team had amused grins on their faces, watching the two of you with knowing looks. Their usual boss, who rarely showed any emotion, appeared so content and happy whenever you were around. It was a sight they cherished, seeing the man they respected and admired, smile genuinely because of you.

As the night grew on, everyone on the jet was asleep, but you and Aaron were still awake. You laid your head on Aaron’s shoulder, your hand clasped with one of his, as he continued looking through the paperwork. It was a habit for him to bury himself in work, even during quiet moments like this.

You gently nudged the papers away, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Stop, you need to sleep.”

“You need to sleep, too.” He whispered, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender gesture.

You sighed softly, giving him a determined look. “Okay, but you have to stop this. You can look at these when we get back, but for now, you need rest.”

A playful grin spread across his face, and he leaned forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Anything for you.”

You gladly kissed him back, feeling a rush of warmth and love for this man. His dedication to his job and his team was commendable, but you also wanted him to take care of himself. He deserved rest and peace, especially after the intense case and the events of the day.

You settled into a comfortable position, still holding each other’s hands, and let the gentle hum of the jet lull you both to sleep. In each other’s arms, you felt a sense of comfort that reassured you, everything had a way of falling into place as it was meant to be.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #angst #fluff #oneshot #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

Perfect Anyway

Request from anon: ‘you flinched’ with Reid x Reader plsss

Spencer Reid x GN!reader

Summary: Wounds don’t always heal perfect, but Spencer makes sure you know just how perfect you are.

A/N: Thank you for the request! This could be platonic or romantic depending on how you read it. I hope you like it either way!

CW: reader is held by an unsub, gunshots, cuts and scars, Spencer helps reader change their bandages because its is my favorite display of affection in fiction whether it’s platonic or romantic

---

You looked down at the crime scene photos in front of you, hoping to find a pattern. There were a few you had already spotted- the victims were all high risk, all dumped in similar locations, and the killer used the same method every time.

Having worked at the BAU for over a year now, you were used to seeing these types of things. Photos of bodies, detailed files on murders, and horrifying signatures weren’t accompanied by the same churn in your stomach that you’d had during your first few cases. Everyone on the team had been upfront about how working this job could cause you to become desensitized to the worst of humanity- and how that sometimes felt as if you were being deprived of a bit of your humanity as well.

But this case brought all your humanity back to you as you saw a pattern you couldn’t ignore- all of the victims looked like you. From their hair color and skin tone, all the way down to body shape, you fit the unsubs type like a glove. Victim type, of course, was one of the first things the team identified when the case came in, but no one on the team had the courage to verbalize that all the victims looked as though they could be related to you.

It was well known throughout the team that you weren’t an easy person to spook, but the steady rhythm of your heart was beginning to speed and sputter. Adrenaline pitched you forward in your seat and you had to catch yourself from biting at your nails or twirling your pen.

“(Y/L/N),” Hotch said. “When I say that the entire team needs to go to the hotel and get some sleep, that means you too.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. “I’ll clean up and be right out.”

“Don’t keep us waiting too long,” he warned. It was a fair warning- if he hadn’t come to get you, you probably would have been staring at the photos all night trying to piece something together. You gathered your files and shoved them in your bag, taking one last long look at the evidence board.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice came from behind you, causing you to jump and turn.

Yeah, this case was definitely spooking you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the officer said. He was taller than you and buffer than you, but his face and haircut showed his young age. “I just wanted to know if you have found anything yet. I’m just a beat cop, so they don’t tell me anything.”

He approached you slowly and easily, so slow and easy that if you weren’t a profiler you probably wouldn’t have noticed. You felt the pressure of his nearness and his gaze coming down on you.

“Nothing yet,” you said, though that wasn’t true. Over half the profile was finished, but there was a small voice in your head telling you that something wasn’t right about the situation happening. “Sorry. Hopefully the team will have something by tomorrow. Goodnight.”

You turned to leave no faster than you normally would so as not to cause suspicion- so far everything the unsub did was controlled and organized with no sign of falling into disevolution any time soon. Even if the officer was the unsub he wouldn’t dare stray from that control unless he was in the position where his psyche would snap.

And it did.

He seized you from behind, bringing a knife towards your throat to control you. With the other hand he yanked your gun from its holster and tossed it away, though you wouldn’t have been able to grab it anyways. You yelped as the blade grazed your skin just enough to draw blood from a cut across your collarbone.

“I’ve been sitting here all day,” the man whispered in your ear, his breath hot on the side of your face. You wanted to turn away from him, but the knife pressed against your throat kept your head still. “I’ve been watching you work… going over those photos again and again. I didn’t know whether you were testing me or whether it was a gift to see such a beautiful specimen examine the art I would turn it into.” He caressed your face. “The other ones weren’t so lucky.”

“Drop the knife.” You had never been so damn thankful that your boss was a stickler for punctuality. Hotch stood in front of you, gun drawn. Reid was next to him, his revolver in his hand as he slowly moved around so they had the unsub trapped at two angles.

Hotch moved forward. “You heard me,” he said sternly. “Drop the knife and let Agent (Y/L/N) go. You’re not getting out of this.”

“But I’d get to see them.” The hand that the unsub was holding the knife in was shaking now, causing the blade to bite into your skin. Hot blood ran from the cut it was creating. You only hoped now that you’d live long enough for that cut to become a scar. “I’d get to see them as artwork one last time.”

“They’re already artwork,” Reid said. You gazed towards him, but his eyes were locked on the unsub. “You see- there’s already blood drawn on their collar. Look.”

The unsub looked down at the shallow cut that he never intended to make, but was a result of his haste.

Reid made eye contact with you as if he was trying to silently communicate something. “They aren’t a blank canvas anymore. You can’t make them look perfect.” He looked back at the unsub. “You messed up.”

In the shock of the statement the unsub faltered in his hold on you. You slipped sideways out of his grasp and fell to the floor.

There were one, two, three shots and a body hit the floor behind you.

You scrambled to get away from the unsub, even though he was dead, needing to get as far away from him as possible. Suddenly someone else was grabbing you. You went to pull away but-

“(Y/N)- (Y/N) it’s me.” The softness of Reid’s voice helped calm you and turned to look into his hazel eyes. They were wide with worry and concern.

You threw your arms around him, pulling him against you as you felt your body shake with the fear that paralyzed it before. Reid held you tight, rubbing a gentle hand on your back to soothe your nerves. “You’re safe (Y/N). You’re safe.”

---

You got on the jet the next morning and opted to sit alone on the couch instead of at the table with the others. There were bandages over the cuts on your skin. They didn’t hurt, but they needed to be re-dressed with cream and fresh gauze every few hours to promote proper healing. Hopefully, they would scar over into thin lines, just a shade lighter than your skin, hardly noticeable unless you knew they were there- but the chance of the skin healing darker, or with wrinkling, or bulging was far higher.

The clatter of something hitting the floor caused you to flinch away from the sound, looking up from the book you were reading in an attempt to distract yourself. Rossi’s pen had rolled off the table. He leaned over and grabbed it without a second thought, but someone was looking at you.

It was Reid.

You averted your eyes from him and back towards your book, but it was too late- he had already seen that your shell had a crack. He walked over to you, his gait long and lanky as always.

“I thought you were playing cards.” You glanced at him.

“You looked like you could use some company,” he said.

“I’m fine, Reid.”

“You flinched.”

The pause that filled the air wasn’t any more still or any more quiet than how the jet was before, but it felt like it.

“And I came to remind you to change your bandages.” He changed the topic, breaking the tension.

“If it’s a few hours late it won’t kill me,” you said back, trying not to look up at him. “I need a bigger mirror than the one in the bathroom anyways.”

“I can do it,” he said. You didn’t even have time to argue before he was opening your bag and pulling all the supplies out. He carefully removed the old bandages and pulled wipes out to clean the sites. “I didn’t mean it, you know.” He pulled an alcohol wipe from a disposable packet and began to carefully sterilize your wounds.

“Didn’t mean what?”

“The thing about you not looking perfect.”

You snorted. “It was true for the unsub. And it’s true now. These could scar over really ugly.”

“Or they could scar over beautiful.” He carefully dabbed healing cream over the site.

“And if they don’t?”

Spencer placed a clean bandage on top of the dressing before looking you in the eye. “You’ll look perfect, anyways.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x platonic!reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds

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withleeknow · 7 months

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endgame. (m)

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, explicit smut; unedited. minors dni. word count: 1.1k note: she was gonna be a cute fluffy piece but she got away from me and turned slutty all of a sudden lmao... anywhomst, i wrote this while half asleep so it definitely could've been better but oh well 🤷‍♀️

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

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

It started off innocently at first, or as innocent as can be when you’re naked together in a bathtub, with your husband’s hands roaming your body, kneading any spot he thinks would help you ease your tension. The knot on the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your arms and legs, until he paused at your thighs.

Today was a crappy day, one of the worst you've had in a while. Everything started going downhill about an hour after you showed up to work, and it kept rolling down the slope of bad-day-ness until you got home. Shitty boss, shitty coworkers, some annoying backhanded remarks from your family that you didn't appreciate at all. It was too much.

You just wanted to go home, cuddle up with your Minho, and start anew tomorrow.

The second that you opened the door, though, your husband was there, greeting you with a soft smile and an even softer kiss. Like he could sense that something was up even though you hadn't mentioned anything to him all day. You even tried to hide your sour mood from him, thinking that maybe you were overreacting, that maybe it would go away eventually.

You don't know how he knew, but there he was, trying to cheer you up without you having to ask. He'd made all of your favorite dishes, because he knows you love it when he cooks for you more than any expensive meal he could get for you. After dinner, he'd told you to just sit there and look pretty with your favorite ice cream that he bought earlier today, while he cleaned everything up. He'd gotten on the couch afterward and cuddled with you while watching your comfort show.

And now here you are, in a bath that he ran for the both of you, trying to help you wind down after a hellish day.

He's been showering you with affection and pampering you with love all evening, without even being aware of everything that transpired throughout the day. He just knew, and he just simply made it his personal mission to comfort you any way he could. The mere thought of it is enough to bring your tears to your eyes.

Slender fingers squeeze your flesh before they start drawing odd patterns into your skin. Minho tilts your head to the side so he can kiss the corner of your mouth. “Can I make it better?” he asks.

You don’t answer him with words. Instead, you place your hand on top of his and guide it toward where you need him the most. Your husband graces you with an endeared smile the second his fingers meet your core while you sigh, eager for what’s to come.

He finds your clit with ease, just rubbing it for a moment and relishing in the way your voice gets caught in your throat, until he’s satisfied with how wet you are.

You wait with bated breath as he starts circling your entrance with the tip of his middle finger. And when he finally pushes in, burying the digit to the knuckle, all you can do is moan his name with a neediness that’s only reserved for instances like this.

“Fuck…”

You throw your head back to rest on his shoulder, your lips parting in a silent prayer as your thighs try to close around his hand, to keep it there between your legs. There's no one you love as much as him, and even after all these years, sometimes you still wonder how he could possibly be yours.

It's this kind of moments that makes you want to thank all the higher powers out there that aligned the stars for you and him.

“Feel good?” he asks, dragging his lips to pepper the side of your face with soft kisses.

“So good… You’re so good to me…”

Minho thrusts the single digit into you for a while, just testing the waters, easing you into the feeling, before he adds a second finger to join the first. It earns him a beautiful whimper from you, then a clench of your velvety walls around his fingers.

Then you’re turning your body to try and face him better. You catch his mouth in a kiss, but the way he instantly takes control and deepens it makes your head spin with desire. You think he must be doing it on purpose when his digits suddenly curl inside of you, making you gasp against his lips. If there’s one thing that Minho loves more than hearing the sounds you keen out for him, it’s feeling those sounds being released into him.

You attempt to reach for his hardened length - which must be throbbing at this point - between your bodies, but he just swats your hand away. “Just let me take care of you," he scolds lightly.

You want to protest, want to say that he should feel good too, but it's not exactly easy to put up much of a fight when his fingers are still relentlessly pumping into you, caressing your walls on every stroke.

His thumb flicks your slippery clit as his other hand comes up to cup one of your tits, squeezing it in his palm until you’re arching desperately into his touch. Some water splashes over the edge of the tub and onto the marbled floor as you squirm against his body, your hips bucking wildly into his hand, trying to find that high and hoping to crash into it headfirst.

Minho can tell that you're close. He knows you too well.

“Come on,” he says softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. “My love.”

A few more swipes at your clit coupled with some more consistent thrusts into your slickened heat and you're done for. Your cunt spasms around his fingers as you cry out his name, grinding feverishly against his hand. He helps you through your orgasm, all the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. There's my girl. You did so well for me. I love you. Just things that he tells you practically every day, but they still make you flutter with absolute fondness for him nonetheless.

Once you've calmed down, you peer up at him lazily, still leaning against his body with his arms around you. Minho just smiles, seemingly so proud of himself that he's made you feel better.

More than better, actually.

You love him, so goddamn much. If only he knew that he didn't have to do anything to salvage your day. Only his presence was enough for you. It's always been enough for you.

The thought of ever loving anyone else seems like an impossible one. He's it for you. This is your endgame, right here.

"Thank you," you say.

"You never have to thank me." He shrugs sheepishly, then kisses you again, softer and slower this time. "You're my wife. I love you. I'm always going to want to make your days better."

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

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kodydrs · 8 months

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The Vice-Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace ( II )

➥ the first arguement

a/n: I might have this done by next week (i’m jinxing myself rn). writing this all feels so repetitive 😭. but hope everyone is having a wonderful day, so why not reblog / leave a reply, or send in a request / ask?

warnings: ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x marine!daughter!admiral, fxm, 17y/o!reader, 19y/o!ace, argument, tension, non-con (but not really), pet names, single used of “y/n”, not proofread (it’s never proofread), i’m bad at tagging

summary: a series of you and ace’s “first times” - you haven’t seen ace for almost 2 years, but suddenly the pirate pops up in a bar.

ib: i lied an forgot to mention it in the first post, but the pirate x marine idea came from this post by @tinfairies

request: yes / no

The next time you met Ace was almost a year and a half later at a similar bar, but this one wasn’t in Loguetown. Instead, you were partaking in a Marine Training. Night had come and training had ended, so you had all decided to get drinks at the local bar (courtesy of the Vice-Admiral, of course). It was going to be a good night until you spotted a familiar orange cowboy hat.

‘Can you guys excuse me for a minute? I’ve gotta do something quickly.’ You told the other cadets. You got a response of “Oh come on, Y/n.” and “But we’re sitting down for the first time all day”, all of which you ignored. Not drawing attention to yourself from anyone in the bar, you walked up to the counter and took a seat beside the pirate.

Ace looked at you through the side of his eye, having to do a double take before realising who you were.

‘Hey. It’s the Vice-Admiral’s daughter!’ He shouted, resulting in a merciless jab to the ribs. He doubled over, wincing as he smiled up at you. ‘Long time, no-‘

‘You need to leave.’ You hissed as you ordered yourself a drink. He just chuckled.

‘We both know that isn’t going to happen, sweetheart.’ He says, taking a small sip of his drink.

‘Ace. There are other marines here. This whole town is swarmed with marines at the moment. You will get caught.’ You whisper-yell, chugging your own drink like it was a shot of water. Ace watched in amazement, a devilish smirk crossing his face as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

‘What happened to “I don’t drink”? Last time I saw you, I had to force you into having just one and now here you are, drinking like a sailor. What did I miss?’

‘I aged.’ You reply blatantly, like it’s the most obvious answer. ‘Last time I saw you, Ace, I was 16. It’s been almost 2 years.’

He laughs, ruffling your hair playfully and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

‘Well you certainly aged well.’ You were quick to brush his hand away, grabbing him by his hat's drawstrings and dragging him from the bar once again.

‘You’re an asshole. And an idiot.’ You curse loudly, turning heads as you cart him down the main street and into an empty alley. ‘What are you even doing here?’

‘I was bored.’

If he looked close enough, Ace might have seen the vein on your forehead pulsing and your patience snap.

‘I’m sorry. You’re in a highly marine populated area, on the busiest day of Marine training, because YOU’RE BORED?!’

He looks at you nonchalantly, shrugging.

‘That is what pirates do, sweetheart.. We get bored sometimes.’

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan, enciting a smile from the older.

‘How is it that you always manage to be in the worst place at the worst time? It’s like that’s your devil fruit power instead of fire fist shit.’

His smirk widens and he leans back against the wall. ‘That’s because I'm not afraid to take risks.’ He winks mischievously, stepping forward towards you before stopping short when he notices your expression.

‘What's wrong, baby girl?’ He asks, tilting his head slightly.

‘I-uh.’ You’re struggling to find words, and you know that boosting Ace’s already large ego. ‘You’re a pervert.’

He bursts into laughter, making you flinch.

‘Oh ho! That’s quite rich coming from you, princess.’ There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Rich coming from me?’ You fight, a surge of confidence flooding you. ‘You took advantage of a 16 year old girl while she was intoxicated.’

He steps closer, towering over you and you feel all the light around you disappear. It’s scary.

‘If I remember correctly, and let us both remember I was the sober one, you said something along the lines of “I want to kiss you so bad right now” and me, not being a “pervert” , told you to try saying it while you’re sober. so no, Y/n. I took advantage of no one.’

Your face flushes red, internal regret ringing in your ear as every alarm goes off. Your flight response, your “crawl into a ball and cry” response, and your fight response.

‘You’re lying.’

‘Oh yeah?’ His voice dropped down to that octave you remembered from your first drink. That animalistic tone as he slowly runs a finger down your covered stomach before hooking onto your belt. ‘Then why are you so nervous?’

You’re doing your best to not break eye contact with the man, but your breathing becomes deep and heavy as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

‘Tell me, babygirl. What exactly did I do wrong?’ He grips tighter onto your belt, pulling your forwards until your chests are pressed together closely. ‘Just answer me, please.’

You can’t form words, and all that comes out when you try to answer is a quiet whimper, like an animal caught in the hunters trap. Ace just laughs, placing a hand on your hip.

‘Now… that isn’t very convincing, princess.’ He pulls away and you gasp for air, your body finally registering that you were breathing. You can feel how hot your face is, and it only makes you more embarrassed which adds to the heat.

‘I-‘

‘You’re trying to tell me I forced you?’ Ace says, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. ‘I did no such thing, ok? What I’m doing now? This is forcing. But on that night, I took you back to the tavern because I didn’t know where you lived and you were too drunk to give me directions. From there, the bartender should’ve taken you home. So please don’t accuse me of taking advantage of you. We had a deal, remember?’

You nod weakly, breathing normally as he releases your jaw and brings his hand to the side of your hand, caressing your cheek gently.

‘I… I’m sorry. For accusing you, and- everything else.’

He looks at you with that dark expression for another second before his signature bright smile lights up.

‘It’s alright. I don’t hold a grudge. Especially not with my friends. And you were so drunk. You wouldn’t have remembered anything from that night, anyways.’

You laugh quietly, wiping your eyes of the few tears that had threatened to spill.

‘…yeah. But I wasn’t drunk.’

‘Oh my god.’ He shouts, laughing at the fact you’re still defending your case after a year and a half. Regardless of the actions prior, he pays your head and ruffles your hair. ‘Get back to your drinks. I’ll get out of here while you distract them, ok?’

You both laugh, but nonetheless split ways. You go back to the other cadets, forgetting you’d even seen Ace by the 5th drink.

taglist: reply to be added

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

⇦ part I

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talesofesther · 1 year

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don’t know how to be something you miss | ch 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, Wednesday recalls pieces of your story together through memories, and wonders if you miss her too.

A/N: People asked for a part 2 so I'm delivering. Soft!Wednesday because I can, so I will. I have to say that reading the first part is kinda essential to understand this one. This was based around this song that was suggested by @abelvrla, and this one that was suggested by @tuboficecream. The writing process for this was so weird, I feel like I genuinely blacked out while writing it, I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing and that's what came out. So, sorry if the quality is questionable; but hopefully not.

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

On the three-week mark, Wednesday goes looking for you.

She hates doing it; admitting that the mistake was hers. But she also hates that it took her this long to do so.

Because each day away from you feels like dying, little by little.

You resemble a ghost to her sometimes. She has glimpses of you every day yet never manages to get close enough to properly grasp you. It's unfair, because you have a hold on her; and it comes with this everlasting longing, a phantom pain in her heart that weeps in your absence.

She still wonders if it's the same for you, or if she fell alone and you don't miss her as she does you.

Wednesday considered, for a brief moment, to let it go — to bury your hoodie in the confines of her wardrobe and never look at it again and just forget about you. The Wednesday from a year ago would do just that, and call the Wednesday from today pathetic for even thinking otherwise.

But living in the past takes her nowhere. Wednesday would never forgive herself for not trying to save what you two had.

So she goes looking, and she finds you in Xavier's art shed. She knows you're there because your bike is leaning against the wall outside.

There's an instant bitterness in her mouth.

It's a gloomy day outside, fluffy clouds coming together to form what looks to be a storm. Wednesday sees it from between the trees as she walks the woods.

A year ago, the prospect of a storm would make her smile.

Not today. Rain brings back memories. And Wednesday doesn't want memories.

Taking in a deep breath, Wednesday pushes open the wooden door. You're sitting on a stool with a big canvas in front of you; there's a brush between your fingers and your tongue is poking out of your mouth as you concentrate on the image you're painting; a stroke of black paint is smudged on your cheek and Wednesday catches a glimpse of a black braid on your canvas — she really tries not to let her mind wander onto what it could be.

The door shuts close behind her with a soft click, finally drawing your attention. The shed feels too cramped for the tension hanging in the air. Breathing is a challenge already.

"Wednesday?" Xavier is the first to speak. Wednesday hadn't even noticed his presence.

"Did you need something?" He keeps going, annoyingly because he's invading her moment with you.

Wednesday doesn't look at him when she speaks, she has an unblinking stare focused on you; "I was hoping we could talk."

You lower your brush, trying to clean your cheek with the back of your hand but you only end up smudging more paint there.

It's been five seconds already and you're not talking. Wednesday takes it as a rejection. And somehow her broken heart still found a way to beat, thundering against her ears. It's almost deafening.

Wednesday bunches up the fabric on the cuffs of her jacket, her nails forming half-moons on her palms to ground herself.

"Give me a few minutes to change," your voice cut the silence and you gestured to your clothes, a little ruined with paint - you always had been a bit clumsy. "I'll find you."

There's an almost nonexistent softness to Wednesday's eyes. Because there's a barely there smile on your lips.

—

Rain is pouring down violently, the power has gone out in the whole school and now candles are the ones that illuminate Wednesday's room.

She hates the sound of the drops hitting her window and the roof above, they're loud, they bring with them the familiar cold air. It feels like loneliness, abandonment.

A knock comes from her door and Wednesday scrambles to open it. You're standing on the other side, a white and red hoodie keeping you warm because you couldn't find your favorite one.

Something about you instantly warms up the whole dorm when you walk in.

"I've been waiting for you," you tell her, keeping your hands behind your back. Ever since Wednesday snapped at you, you've been holding yourself back from reaching out, even if it hurt. If she wanted to make amends, you wanted it to be her decision.

Wednesday gulps, her gaze moving up and down your body before she has the courage to look you in the eyes. She feels out of place, maybe a little lost. She's unsure what's the next step on all this.

"I-" her words are tangled, everything she had perfectly planned is now a mess inside her mind, "I believe I owe you an apology."

You nod softly, the orange glow of the small flickering flame of the candle that rests on Wednesday's desk is reflecting against your skin. You look like her favorite dream.

"Okay," you tell her in all your tenderness, "for what?"

It's most unkind, though; Wednesday thinks to herself as she clenches her jaw. Because you know her, you know this isn't easy, yet you still want to hear her say it.

Wednesday huffs with remains of annoyance and shifts from one foot to another, she wants to reach out and hold you, bring things back to how they were. The distance feels worse now than it did when she saw you from the opposite side of the cafeteria. Maybe because you're just a step away from her, yet she doesn't feel within the right to take that step.

Thunder rumbles outside, and with it, the tight feeling weighing down on Wednesday's chest increases. She blinks once, twice. Her vision blurs over. She feels she's one word away from winning you back or losing you for good.

"I said things I didn't mean the last time we spoke."

You pursed your lips, taking half a step toward Wednesday; "you said your life was better before I showed up."

Wednesday instantly shook her head, "that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

"That I was scared." The words roll off Wednesday's tongue before she has a chance to filter them, she closes her eyes for a beat, cringing at her own sudden vulnerability. She decides you're worth it.

"I didn't know what had happened to you that day," Wednesday tells you, tone tight, "I never-" she hesitates, and you take another step closer. One of your hands comes up to Wednesday's cheek to tuck back a loose strand of hair there. It's laughable that the small touch is almost enough to get Wednesday to crumble.

"I never cared about someone to the point of feeling like I'm being drowned to death at the mere thought of harm coming to them," she finishes in a rush. So fast that some words almost mend together into one, but you manage to understand.

It's only when your thumb brushes it away, that Wednesday realizes a tear had slipped past her defenses and was rolling down her cheek. She looks away from you then, severely embarrassed.

"Love scares you," you whisper. It's not a question, you know it's a truth.

Wednesday is as still as a corpse, the only things moving are her eyes, incapable of choosing where to focus.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday," you promise, because you knew she had to hear it. Then, you finally bring the hand that was behind your back to rest between both you and her.

When Wednesday looks down, she sees you holding onto a small box. Black in its color and resting perfectly in your palm. She frowns, glancing up at you in confusion. All you do is extend the box further toward her.

Wednesday relents and takes the box from you, careful as ever. She doesn't dare breathe when she opens it.

Inside, rests a necklace. The pendant in it has the shape of a Black Dahlia.

Wednesday doesn't need you to say a word. That's what you went to get on that day.

A sob cuts its way through Wednesday's throat, and she's suddenly losing any last bits of composure she had. Tears make a steady path down her cheeks.

You had come back to her with a physical manifestation of your affections, and she called you an inconvenience.

Apologies stumble past Wednesday's lips before she can stop them.

"We're okay," you tell her in the same heartbeat, sneaking your arms around her waist and pulling her body to yours. You grip her tightly, any last remaining distance between you disappearing.

Wednesday buries herself in your embrace, feeling the cold finally seep away from her skin and be replaced with your warmth.

"I missed you," her lips brush your skin with the confession and you feel the words in your heart.

You hug her tighter; "I missed you too."

There's a soft whimper that slips Wednesday at the knowledge that she was, after all, someone worth missing.

Wednesday's cheeks are a bright shade of pink when she eventually, reluctantly pulls away from you. It gets a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest.

She's holding the necklace tightly, it makes you smile. "May I?"

You take the necklace from her hands, whispering for her to turn around and she does so without hesitation. With delicate fingers, you close it around her neck.

It's a perfect fit, the dark flower resting perfectly over her chest.

"You look beautiful," you tell her with a smile.

Wednesday brings her hand up, tracing the pendant on her necklace. It makes her feel like she's yours, and she doesn't hate it.

Raindrops are steadily trickling down the window, the flames of the candles around you give the room the most intimate of feelings. You like it when the lights are out. And while looking around, your eyes catch a glimpse of a pop of color resting on top of Wednesday's bed. You walk closer to get a better look — because there wasn't supposed to be color in her side of the room.

And there, beside Wednesday's pillow, rests the lilac hoodie you've been incessantly looking for these last weeks.

With a chuckle, you pick it up, "I've been looking everywhere for this."

"You left it here," Wednesday tells you quickly, she's not looking you in the eye and the blush of her cheeks has just increased. It's almost like you've stumbled upon a secret she didn't want you to find. "I've been meaning to return it." Her voice is as quiet as you've ever heard it, and you think it's all too adorable.

Bringing the hoodie closer to your nose, you could feel Wednesday's perfume on the fabric. Your skin fills with goosebumps upon imagining her wearing it. You walk closer to her and reach around her to drape the hoodie over her shoulders, admiring the blend of her dark braids over the lilac.

Wednesday's dark eyes drift down to your lips, it's like she can read your mind.

You tug at the hoodie, pulling her close to you. You peck her lips, "you can keep it," you whisper against her, "looks much better on you anyway."

And Wednesday kisses the words, her hands sneaking behind your neck and trapping you to her. She kisses you as if she's not sure you're real yet and is trying to convince herself through your lips.

Wednesday can hear the raindrops hitting her window but all she feels is you.

Maybe she'll learn to love the rain again; as long as you stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 5 months

Text

Learn To Love Again - Chapter Twenty-One: Spanking Redux (Daddy Kink)

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: You have a hard time letting go. Pietro helps you out. An exploration of kink with Pietro Maximoff. Each chapter from chapter 2 onwards will be a different kink.

Chapter Summary: Your vacation is drawing to a close, and you decide to give spanking a second try.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4634

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc @mcximffs @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @maddieisbored @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @strawberrysoldat @tayswozle @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @tiredbut-here @blueallover @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout @idkman5335 @starmansirius

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

I've decided to stop apologising for the long breaks between chapters of this fic. I love this fic, but my mission has always been to update it sporadically, whenever I feel like. That hasn't changed.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and have a happy New Year.

warnings for daddy kink (if you're not into that, I recommend you stop reading at the *** so you don't miss any plot), spanking, mentions of trauma/PTSD, nightmares, anxiety, maybe being a tad co-dependent, scars, mentions of past injury, using spit as lube, rough sex, neck grabbing, slut shaming, possessiveness, overstimulation, creampie

---

Pietro had been acting edgy all day, so it wasn’t exactly surprising when you were jolted awake by a hand grabbing at your arm. You blinked, disoriented, as the world around you came into focus.

Your boyfriend was sitting upright, staring off into the distance, unseeing. His chest was rising and falling heavily. The thin strip of moonlight that fell from between the curtains was enough to see how pale he looked.

“Pietro?” you murmured sleepily, and he looked down at you suddenly, like he hadn’t realised you were there. His grip loosened on your arm at once, and he grimaced.

“I’m sorry, my love. Did I hurt you?”

You were tempted to say, “I’ve had worse,” but you had a feeling that that wouldn’t make him feel any better.

Instead, you said, “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Pietro…” Sleepiness had worn away at the tact you usually would’ve used in a situation like this. “What’s wrong?”

You understood that Pietro would tell you things in his own time. He would share his trauma when he was ready to share it. You knew all of this logically. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating. He knew everything about you, but you still felt like you’d barely scratched his surface.

And right now, you were tired, and you just wanted him to be okay.

He let out a little frustrated noise. “It’s nothing. Just a nightmare. Don’t worry about me.”

“Baby…” You stroked a hand up his forearm. His posture relaxed a little. “Lie down with me?”

“I…” He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t want to fall back asleep.”

You knew the feeling. Sometimes you had to stay awake long enough to chase the nightmare away fully before you could bear to go back to sleep. You understood that.

“You won’t. Let’s just talk, okay?”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he shuffled backwards so that he was half-propped up against the headboard. You supposed that was a reasonable compromise.

Wrapping both arms around him, you leant into him, squishing your cheek against his stomach.

“You can sleep,” he said softly, carding his fingers through your hair. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not tired,” you lied. In truth, you just didn’t want to leave him to deal with his nightmare alone. “What was your nightmare about?” You felt his muscles tense against the skin of your face.

You were ready for him to brush you off, but instead, he said, “The usual. The night my parents died. The battle in Sokovia. The car explosion.”

His hand had drifted down to rest against the back of your neck. You could feel him tracing a scar there, the remnants of the damage that that explosion had done to your body. Tony had done an excellent job with the skin grafts, but your scars were still visible if you knew where to look.

“You still dream about that?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“I dream about every time I almost lost you, or Wanda. It has happened… far too many times.”

You shifted so that you could sit up and look him in the eye. His hand fell from your neck, so you grabbed hold of it and guided it back up there.

Under the moonlight, you took in the sight of him. Although he looked nowhere near as exhausted as he had done at the beginning of your vacation, he did look sad. His eyes were glassy. In that moment, you wanted to destroy everything and anything that had ever hurt him.

“I dream about the battle of Sokovia too,” you breathed. “I barely knew you then, but I knew I didn’t want you to die.”

“I was a little bit obsessed with you from the moment I first saw you,” he said, huffing out a laugh. “It would be embarrassing if you weren’t my girlfriend now.”

“Really?”

“Really. I thought it was just a stupid crush that would go away with time, but then you had to go and save my life, and I knew I was screwed.”

You giggled, feeling suddenly very warm. His skin was hot everywhere it was touching yours. You pressed your lips to his. His free hand skimmed up under your vest to rest on the bare skin of your waist.

“For the record,” you murmured. “I thought you were an arrogant asshole when we first met. An annoyingly sexy, arrogant asshole.”

He tipped his hand back to look at you again, a half-smirk on his lips. “And now?”

“Now? Now you’re my annoyingly sexy, arrogant asshole.”

He pinched your hip and you squealed, jolting forward so you were half in his lap. Your thigh brushed over his crotch, and it was clear that his dick was starting to take an interest in the conversation.

You pressed your hand against him through his boxers, watching the way his eyes fluttered shut momentarily. He wasn’t hard yet, but he was getting there.

You shifted yourself into a kneeling position and slid your hand under his waistband.

“Prinţesă- Ah.” He cut himself off with a gasp.

“What was that?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him innocently. The hand that was at your waist moved around behind you and slipped down the back of your underwear, squeezing your ass hard. It was your turn to gasp.

“You’re a little slut, aren’t you?” he murmured, kneading at the dough of your ass with one hand. You tipped forward, pressing your forehead against his as you redoubled your grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down. “Just wanted to play with my cock, didn’t you?”

What you really wanted to do was suck him off, but he didn’t seem keen on relinquishing his grip on you, and the lube was out of reach, so you let go of his cock for just long enough to spit in your hand, and then went back to jerking him off.

“You can’t get enough of it,” he said, and then kissed you, drawing you closer to him. You were straddling his thigh now, using both hands to jerk him off, and he was letting out little breathy moans that were driving you insane.

You rocked down against his thigh, feeling the muscles flex and move to meet you. He was tugging at your vest. You reluctantly let go of his cock to let him yank it off you with more force than was strictly necessary.

He was kissing you hungrily now, hands cupping your breasts. You grasped his cock again, jerking him off as you bounced up and down on his thigh.

Without warning, he hooked one arm under your thigh and pulled you closer to him until you were straddling his crotch. He slid your panties to one side, and, when his searching fingers found you dripping wet, he grabbed hold of his cock to line it up with your entrance.

You didn’t miss a beat. You took him in one thrust, barely pausing to adjust to feeling of him inside you. You were really fucking wet. He held onto your hips, pounding up into you with reckless abandon.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you rode him, clinging to him like your life depended on it. He pressed his face into your neck, licking and sucking and biting at the skin there, drawing deeper moans from you.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m close,” you murmured, and Pietro took that as his cue to speed up, biting down hard on the skin of your neck. The moan you let out was frankly embarrassingly loud, but Pietro seemed to enjoy it.

“Mine.” His voice rumbled over the skin of your neck. You felt his stubble scratching at the sensitive area, but it was the authoritative timbre of his voice that pushed you over the edge.

“Pietro,” you keened, voice high and strung out. He held onto you, continuing to bounce your body up and down on his cock even as all the strength went out of you. You grabbed his shoulders, pressing your lips to his as his thrusts stuttered.

“Oh my god,” he moaned, and then let out a string of what you assumed were expletives in Sokovian. He came inside you.

“Fuck,” you murmured again.

“Fuck,” Pietro agreed. He wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over so that his cock slipped out of you, and you were lying beside him again. You nuzzled into his neck.

Neither of you spoke for a while. After a few minutes, you heard his breathing slow, and you knew that he had fallen asleep. You squeezed him gently, hoping to protect him from bad dreams.

When you awoke, the sun was out, and the bed beside you was cold. You sat up, confused. You were sweaty and sticky from the sex and a hot night’s sleep, so you got to your feet, snagging one of Pietro’s t-shirts from the floor, as well as a fresh pair of panties.

You dressed yourself quickly, and stepped out into the living room. Pietro wasn’t there. You wandered into the kitchen, and found a note on the counter.

Gone for a run – P x

That was interesting. At home, Pietro ran a lot. It was a part of his training. But since you’d been on vacation, both of your workouts had been limited to walks on the beach, the occasional sparring session, and vigorous sex.

Figuring he couldn’t be long, you went and showered. Once you were clean and presentable, you went back into the living room.

Pietro still wasn’t back. You felt a prickle of anxiety, hot on the back of your neck. Quietly, trying to calm your nerves, you made yourself breakfast.

Pietro was fine, you were sure. There wasn’t much that could hurt your superspeedy boyfriend. Most of the time.

Still.

You went to your nightstand. Your phone was in the top drawer. You hadn’t used it much since you’d been away. You were trying to limit your social media use, given the shitstorm you’d left behind you.

You tried to switch it on, but it was out of battery, so you unfurled your charger and plugged it into the wall. The screen lit up with the low battery symbol. It would probably be a few minutes before it was usable. That was fine.

You went to Pietro’s nightstand next, where you knew he’d been keeping his phone. It was missing. You supposed he must’ve taken it with him. That was good. You could text him, once your phone was charged.

You shut the drawer and left the room. Through the windows, you could see the trees blowing in the wind. Your heart was starting to speed up. You had no good reason to feel the way you did. Pietro was probably fine. The weather outside didn’t mean anything.

You checked your phone again. It still wouldn’t turn on. Feeling jittery, you made yourself a cup of tea and went out onto the porch.

The wind was cold and it was starting to drizzle, but still, you sat down at the little table and sipped at your tea. Your cup was half-empty and you were starting to shiver from the cold when a familiar silver blur zoomed towards you, and then Pietro was standing on the porch, looking down at you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, a little amused. He was dressed for a run, wearing grey sweatpants that hugged him in all the right places. His vest was stuck down with sweat and his hair was wild, from the running or the rain, you couldn’t tell. He looked very hot.

“Enjoying the fresh air.” You didn’t want to admit that you’d been worried about him. It was silly that his absence had made you so anxious.

“You’re shivering.” You shrugged. “Why don’t we go inside and watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds nice,” you said shyly.

“I need to shower first… Care to join me?”

A smile spread across your face, and you drained the rest of your tea in two gulps. He held out a hand to you, and you let him lead the way.

In spite of his run, Pietro was restless and fidgety while watching the movie. It was some romcom from the early 00s. He wasn’t really paying attention. It was hard to focus with you sitting beside him, looking like a wet dream, even though you were just wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

You didn’t say anything as he insinuated himself further and further into your space, but you accommodated him, letting your fingers brush lightly through his hair and down his arms. Your touches were affectionate, not sexual, but they still made him feel hot.

“Are you feeling okay, baby?” you asked.

“Of course. Never better. Why?”

“You seem distracted.”

He hesitated. After a moment, he picked up the TV remote and turned the volume all the way down. He could’ve muted it with one button, but watching the volume bar shrink gave him a moment to gather his thoughts, and figure out how to tell you what had been on his mind.

“I never thought I’d say this,” he said, “But I kind of miss New York. This place is beautiful, and getting to be alone with you has been the best couple of months of my life.” You were looking at him, your expression unreadable. Sometimes he envied Wanda always being able to know what people were thinking. “But I think I will be ready to go home soon. I can’t keep hiding from my responsibilities forever.”

“You know…” You shifted closer to him. Instinctively, he put an arm around your shoulders. Your face was so close to his that he could feel your breath on his cheek. “You don’t have to be an Avenger, if you don’t want to. It’s a hard life. You already have more than your fair share of trauma.”

Pietro exhaled. “I like being an Avenger,” he said. “And without the Avengers, I never would’ve met you.”

You moved towards him and he opened his arms to you, letting you crawl into his lap. You pressed a kiss to his lips, his cheek, his jaw, and then hugged him close, burying your face into his neck.

“You have me,” you said, turning your face so your words wouldn’t be muffled. “Wherever you go, whatever you do now, you have me.”

“I have been texting with Wanda for the past few days,” he admitted. “Everything seems to be going fine in New York. Quiet. And…” Again, he hesitated. He was glad you weren’t looking at him right at that moment, because that would’ve made it all the harder to get the words out. “She told me that she’s been seeing a therapist. For the grief. And trauma. She said I should talk to one too.”

You shifted back to look him in the eyes. The judgment he feared was nowhere to be found. Your expression was open, curious.

“And what do you think?” you asked, carefully. “Do you want to?”

“I think… I think it might be a good idea, yeah.”

You nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad Wanda is getting help. And I’m happy you’re thinking about it too. You deserve to be happy.”

Pietro’s relief was palpable. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. He smiled against your lips, hooking his hands under your thighs and dragging you towards him so you were straddling his lap. You let out a little gasp, and he dove into your neck, laying tender kisses down the column of your throat.

“So…” you said, trying to sound casual but biting back a moan. “When do you want to go home?”

“I don’t know. A few days. I want to wreck your pretty pussy a few more times before we go back to New York.”

Your face flushed with heat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His teeth grazed against a sensitive patch of skin and you moaned softly, grinding down against him.

“Bedroom?” you asked.

***

He nodded, wrapping his arms tight around your waist so he could stand up without putting you down. You tightened your legs around him as he carried you to the bedroom.

He dropped you onto the bed unceremoniously, his hands tugging at the hem of your t-shirt. You let him pull it off over your head, revealing your bare breasts.

You looked so pretty like this, your tits still bouncing from the impact of landing on the bed, your soft skin laid out for him like the most delicious buffet he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help but bury his face between your tits, relishing the soft gasp that fell from your lips as he did so.

It was times like this that Pietro had to make a conscious effort to slow down during sex. If he wasn’t careful, this could all be over in five seconds.

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards him so you could grind against him. Your head tipped back against the bedsheets, releasing a ragged moan as he swirled his tongue around your nipple. You were always so responsive to his touch.

He swapped to the other nipple after a moment, holding you down against the bed. You were rocking against him, desperate for some friction, and that was when he decided to put you out of your misery.

He sunk to his knees, tugging on your sweatpants and panties. Realising what he was doing, you lifted up your hips to help him pull them off.

Now you were naked in front of him, unabashed and staring at him with undeniable lust in your eyes. That was something he’d grown to love. At first, you’d been a little shy about him looking at you and touching you. Now you were impatient for him to make you cum over and over again, and he was happy to oblige.

He spread your legs, splaying you out in front of him, and starting kissing your inner thigh. Your skin was so soft. It was something he marvelled at.

Usually, you kept your pubes pretty neatly trimmed, shaved and/or waxed, but you hadn’t maintained them much in a while, and they were starting to grow out. Truthfully, Pietro didn’t mind what you did with them, but he liked them a little bit messy, because it meant that you trusted him.

He parted your lips with his fingertips and moved in to kiss your clit.

“Piet,” you whined, and he decided to be nice, because he was magnanimous like that.

You were already so wet. His tongue dipped between your folds, tasting you. He would never get tired of this. The way you tasted, the pretty noises that you made, the way your skin felt against his.

He pushed his tongue inside you, meeting minimal resistance. As his nose bumped against your clit, you gasped and ground back against him.

He pressed his forearm against your stomach, pushing you back down into the bed and holding you still. You let out a shaky exhale as he wrapped his lips around your clit again.

“Pietro…” you breathed. Your fingers found their way into his hair again, fingernails scratching lightly across his scalp. His eyes drifted shut. He let himself get lost in you, just feeling the movements of your body and the pleasure of your hands tugging at his hair.

When he opened his eyes, he had no idea how much time had passed, but you were practically mewling, your knees drawn up either side of his head, torn between holding his mouth against your pussy and pushing him away.

He didn’t stop. Your toes curled against his shoulders, your whole body trembling as he made you cum one more time.

This time, he let you go. Your body went limp as he pulled away from you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He was covered in traces of you, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside you right now.

At superspeed, he stripped off his clothes. From his perspective, you were lying on the bed, almost perfectly still, a freezeframe of a moment between breathes. Slowly, your hands made their way down onto the bed to push yourself upright. He paused, letting time normalise again.

Your hair was wild and your eyes had a mischievous glint as he crawled over you, ready to fuck you until you forgot your own name. He had almost closed the distance between you when you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

“Can we try something?” you asked, smiling at him almost shyly.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Will you spank me?”

Pietro felt his cock give a little jump. The last time you’d tried spanking, he hadn’t been able to go through with it, because you were in an emotional state and he was scared that you’d wanted him to hurt you for real. Now, with you comfortable and post-orgasmic, staring up at him with love in your eyes, he couldn’t resist you.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Please?”

As always, you had your safeword. You leant up to kiss him, but he grabbed your hips and rolled you onto your stomach. You let out a choked off gasp as he climbed on top of you, wrapping an arm around your neck from behind.

His forearm was pressed to your neck, as if he was choking you, but without the actual pressure applied. He knew you liked when he took control like this, and from the way your breathing hitched, he was pretty sure you were enjoying this.

He laid one hand against your ass. “Is this okay?” he murmured, lips almost pressed to your ear.

“It’s perfect,” you breathed. He slapped at the fat of your ass, watching the way the flesh jiggled. You moaned softly. He did it again, and you whined, “harder,” so he obliged. He loved your ass, and he was especially loving the way it bounced with every spank.

You were practically grinding against the bed, babbling a bunch of horny nonsense that was making drops of pre-cum leak from Pietro’s cock. One word stood out from the rest. Pietro paused.

“Did you just call me daddy?” he asked breathlessly.

“What?” Your eyes snapped open, and you turned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“You just called me daddy.” Pietro gave you a shit-eating grin. You started trying to stammer through an explanation, but he pressed a thumb to your lips, silencing you. “That’s really fucking hot.”

Your eyes were wide. “You like it when I call you daddy?” you asked, your lips forming the words against his thumb. Before he could respond, you grabbed his hand with both of yours, sucking his thumb into your mouth and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Fuck,” Pietro groaned as your tongue swirled around his thumb. If he didn’t put his cock in you right now he was pretty sure he was about to explode.

“Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?” you asked, eyes glinting.

Pietro swore again. He spanked you hard, making you yelp, and before you’d had time to recover, he’d rolled you onto your back and lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Prinţesă,” he murmured, and then he pushed inside you. You released his hand and wrapped an arm around his neck again, your free hand affectionately brushing the hair away from his forehead. He had never felt so in love.

Time slowed down. Your head was tipping back slowly, revealing your neck to him. He was torn between kissing your neck and watching the way your eyes rolled back in your head. Your pussy was wrapped around him, so tight and wet and warm. He would never stop marvelling at the way you invited him inside you. He could stay here forever.

He watched your face. He was desperate to start thrusting, but he was still going so fast, and he didn’t want to hurt you. He took a few deep breaths.

Time was starting to normalise again, and you were looking at him expectantly.

Just as he was about to start moving, you batted your eyelashes at him, and said, “Fuck me, daddy?”

How could he resist that?

He started thrusting, feeling your body clench around him. Your eyes fluttered shut, and he didn’t know where to look, or touch. He wanted all of you.

Your boobs were bouncing with every thrust, looking so juicy and enticing. He squeezed them, kissed them, and then moved back to your neck. Your legs were wrapped around his hips, encouraging him deeper, and it must’ve felt good because each thrust was fucking a moan from your lips.

He was on his knees, his forearms either side of your head. You opened your eyes and looked at him, a smile playing on your lips. You guided one of his hands to your throat, so he wrapped it around your neck loosely, watching the pleasure overtake you.

You were about to come. He could feel it.

“You like it when daddy fucks you like this, don’t you? You’re daddy’s little slut, aren’t you?”

“Pietro,” you squealed, tightening around him. He clung to you, fucking you through your orgasm, letting the pleasure wash over you like a wave.

His whole body felt hot. He was torn between wanting to cum and wanting to stay buried inside you forever. Your fingers were in his hair again, tugging and scratching at his scalp.

“Cum for me, daddy,” you purred, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He felt his balls tighten as he released inside you, a few more deep thrusts to fuck all of his cum into you. You exhaled shakily, and then patted his arms, signalling for him to release you.

As he pulled out, he couldn’t help but look at the way his cum dripped out of you. Your pussy was so pretty, especially when it was coated with the evidence of what the two of you had just done.

“Pietro,” you whined softly, making grabby hands at him. You could wash up later, he decided. He crawled over you, hugging you to him, and then rolled so that you were lying against his chest. You nuzzled into his neck.

“How was that?” he asked. You made a non-descript noise of pleasure, which drew a chuckle from him. “Yeah? Me too.” When you didn’t say anything else, he said, “I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”

You groaned, but didn’t argue. He detangled himself from you carefully, and then sped into the kitchen and returned with the water so fast that you hadn’t even had time to sit up.

He knelt beside you as you did so, passing you the glass as soon as he was sure you weren’t about to drop it. You drank deeply, eyes falling shut as a drop of water rolled down your chin. He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked. “A snack?”

“I��m fine,” you said, half-chuckling as you set your glass down on the nightstand.

The two of you got back under the covers together. This time, you faced each other, instead of cuddling.

“So how was it for you? Really?” you asked.

“Seeing you turned on turns me on,” said Pietro. “And you have a very nice ass.”

You giggled, covering your mouth with one hand. “And the daddy stuff?”

“It was hot,” he said. “But I think I prefer it when you call me Pietro. I like the way you say my name. So maybe only sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.” You leant into him so that your faces were inches apart. “That’s good to know. Te iubesc, Pietro.”

“I love you too, prinţesă.”

Next Chapter

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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roosterbox · 7 days

Text

Hey

Hey hey

Guess what? It’s someone’s birthday today!

That’s right, my dear Inception fandom peeps, if my calendar is to be believed - and I hope it is! - then today is the birthday of our own beloved @lolahardy !!

Happy birthday, Lola ❤️

Also, I wrote you a Thing. Just a lil ~500 word piece, featuring our favorite pair of silly boys, lol. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you have the loveliest of lovely birthdays today.

Not putting it under a cut because, again, it’s only a little over 500 words, so not too long.

Tags: baked goods, schmoop, tooth-rotting fluff, slight slight slight references to sex (I’d probably rate it a T juuuuust in case, but this is like the lightest T rating you’ll ever see, lol), Eames has a sweet tooth and Arthur decides to enable him.

———

“Happy birthday,” Arthur said.

The cake looked immaculate, situated as it was, perfectly centered on their kitchen table. Every dip and wave of frosting was perfect. Each candle equidistant from each other. It was all so very Arthur, and Eames loved it almost as much as he loved him.

“Oh, darling,” he said, drawing Arthur close for a kiss. “Yet again, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Arthur’s cheeks were slightly pink. “You say that every year.”

“Because every year, it’s still true.” He smiled. “You grab the plates while I cut?”

Turns out, it tasted like perfection too. The smoother than smooth lemon buttercream frosting adding just the right amount of tangy bite to the sweeter cake. Eames couldn’t help his satisfied groans at the peach and strawberry flavours bursting over his tongue. The taste, and the sight of Arthur’s face getting even pinker at the noises he was making, was absolutely everything to him.

Mouth half-full, Eames started to say “At the risk of repeating myself-“

“Don’t.” Arthur took a small bite of his own slice. “It’s good, yeah?”

“It’s perfect.” Eames swallowed his last bite, and moved to serve himself another piece. “All three of my favourite flavours, conveniently in one gorgeous package? I almost didn’t want to eat it.”

“Almost.” They shared a smirk. A long stretch of comfortable silence followed. Well, silent other than the frankly obscene noises Eames made as he enjoyed his cake. Halfway through his third (and as it would turn out, last… for now) slice of his birthday meal, Eames observed, with sly pleasure, Arthur loosening his shirt at the collar. Seemed like his vocalizations were having the desired effect. His darling was looking almost as pink as the crumb on the cake he’d made.

“You know,” Eames said after getting another mouthful down, “there’s one somewhat unfortunate thing about this.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?” He seemed genuinely confused, and a little concerned that he might have messed up or forgotten something.

“Tragically, my actual favorite flavour in the world isn’t one that usually finds its way into baked goods.” He gave his partner a sidelong look. “A bit more of a… personal touch, that one.”

It took Arthur a minute. But then, he groaned.

“Eames, please. I’m trying to eat.”

“Still made you smile though.” Eames nudged his leg under the table.

“Pretty sure I’ve done nothing but smile this whole entire day.”

“Even while baking?”

“Especially while baking.” Arthur looked down at Eames hand sitting on the tablecloth, and covered it with his own. “You know how much I enjoy doing things like this. For you.”

Now it was Eames’ turn to blush. “No fair getting so sappy, love. Not after my best attempts at salaciousness.”

That got him a dry chuckle. “If that’s your best attempt, then there goes the rest of my plans for this evening.”

Eames gasped. “Why, Arthur,” he practically purred. “How very forward of you.”

A squeeze of his hand. “Finish your cake, Mr. Eames, and maybe you’ll get to have some of your ‘favorite’ flavor before the night is through.”

He barely tasted the last few bites. And sometime later, as he caught his breath on the comedown, all he could think was that it was worth it.

#inception #arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #birthday fic #lolahardy #happy birthday #my fic #my stuff #writing is hard #everyone wish them a happy birthday #❤️❤️❤️

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marcynomercy · 4 months

Note

Happy holidays! It's your Secret Santa recipient! <3 Can I get Astarion/Tav with an extra large side of angst. Thank you!

TOOK TIME, BUT ARRIVED!! Again a thousand apologies for the delay, I decided to post without the drawing I was doing not to delay more. (when the drawing is ready I post and link with hc). Now please enjoy your reading.

You are free now.

Synopsis: Calamity and Astarion get closer between conversations and confidences, he discovers a little about her past and he comes trying to drag her back with chains.

Warning: Explicit violence, blood and SA measurements.

It was another calm night at the camp and Calamity was sitting by the fire leaning against the wooden log while hugging her knees, her eyes fixed on the flames and the tinkling of the embers. Her mind wandered in short and quick thoughts about everything that was happening. She stayed like that, until someone woke her up with a light cold touch that made her startle slightly.

“Relax, darling, it's me.” Calamity looked and saw her vampire companion with a superb smile on his lips, a bottle of wine in one hand. “How about a little distraction in the middle of this boring night?”

“It wouldn't be a bad idea. What do you have in mind?” Normally, she would deny or make any insinuation disguised as sarcasm, but tonight she was more inclined towards anything that would take her away from her own mind.

“You know.” Astarion sits on the log next to her, handing Calamity the cup and serving the wine immediately. “A little wine and a good conversation.Come on, don’t look at me like that!”

The young woman narrowed her eyes, still suspicious, but with a heavy sigh leaving her lungs she gave up her probably well-founded suspicions about the elf.

“Okay…Where do we start?”

“Let's see... How about the beginning?”

“You want to know if I was a happy child, don’t you?” She chuckled in sarcasm as she took a sip of the wine.

“If you want.” He hummed in response.

Calamity thought a little and... Well, he had told her a little about his past so it was only fair to do the same.

“I don't remember everything about my childhood. One day I woke up somewhere near Baldur's Gate next to my brother, we didn't remember anything except our names and we assumed our parents were dead or abandoned us. So we started living on the streets of the city, my brother used to steal. Well,we lived like this until we were 16. Sometimes I sold flowers and other times I sang to get some gold. That day I stayed on the streets until night because I hadn't managed to sell all the flowers in my basket and that's when a man approached me…” Calamity shivered. “He said that he had already heard me singing and that he liked my voice and that he wanted me to sing more for him that night...

Astarion furrowed his eyebrows in disgust.

“AND? What happened?”

“An elf helped me, don't remember exactly what he said to that disgusting man, but it was enough for him to leave. I am a half-elf, and elves aren’t really fond of people like me, but he was so kind and I let my guard down and allowed him to accompany me. It was really fun and when I said “goodbye” I gave him the last flower I had as thanks.”

Something seemed strangely familiar to Astarion. And he remembered. A long time ago, he helped a girl in the same circumstances.”

“No fucking way. “It was you?”

“What?” Calamity looked at him, confused by his sudden reaction.

“The girl! Gods, that was 100 years ago, but I remember helping a girl because I felt compassion and…”

“No way…” Her eyes widened in disbelief and surprise. “Were you…”

They both remained silent for a while, both staring at each other in shock.

Astarion completely recovered the memory of that day in his mind. He was wandering the streets looking for victims, when by chance he saw that scene, a man full of wicked malice in his eyes cornering a scared girl. He was disgusted and furious, perhaps, because he saw his own tormentor reflected in that man and felt sorry for that child. Maybe he could do something good? No. He was going to take her to his Master, that's what he planned after “saving” her, but it made him feel horrible especially because she was so... kind.

And now here she was, all grown up and being his “target” again.

“Why did you help me?”

Astarion blinked, returning to reality. “I... Well, let's say, I just had a moment of “compassion.”

“And then?”

Shit... She already knew how he took poor souls to his Master, of course she would connect the dots.

“Don't look at me like that, dear, yes I thought it would be good to take you with me..., but I didn't.” Her look was uncertain, he couldn't decipher whether it was anger or hurt that she was feeling. “But well, I didn't do that and it's in the past.”

“And yet here we are, drinking wine and talking in front of the fire 100 years later. How ironic.” She mocked with a clearly fake smile on her lips as she turned the glass again. “Do you want to know something interesting?” She didn't look at him when she asked that question, but he was watching her.

Calamity stared at the flames intensely. Concentrated, as her mind wandered through memories of the past.

Astarion watched her while she was distracted by her own mind so he took the opportunity to analyze her better, her expression was that of someone lost. A person who was aimless, usually hopeless souls like her were such easy targets, all they want is a little compassion and comfort.

Some sweet and kind words... And they went down well, but strangely Calamity didn't seem like that kind of person. He still remembers how she retreated from his advances... How scared she looked at the slightest touch.

“Tell me…” He waited for the answer, while keeping his eyes fixed on her.

“The day after that night you helped me was when the Guild took us.”

He was speechless.

“How did this happen?”

“My brother killed a man to protect me, we ran away so he wouldn't be arrested and it was then that an elf who would be my “Master” approached us, he said he saw potential in my brother and that he would be of great value to His guild... That's how we were “recruited”, I didn't want my brother to go alone because this situation only happened because of me so it was only fair that I did the same.

Oh... That look he knew well.

“Darling... What exactly happened to you after that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“They said they would train us, my brother was under the tutelage of an drow called Morana and I was under the tutelage of the elf who found us... The training was more like torture, I spent 6 years without seeing my brother, we were completely isolated and whenever I didn't obey he said that my brother would suffer for it.” She clenched her fists. “At first it was just these psychological games and, of course, the infernal rigid training, but as I grew up things started to change... His manners changed and so did his touches... “Her breathing became heavier with each word as if the air was heavier. “Then…”

The parasite in his brain stirred, he felt that uncomfortable sensation and then their minds connected.

He saw Calamity on her knees against the ground facing a man who demanded submission.He demanded that she obey like a loyal “dog” she was, so he pulled a chain that was attached to the collar around her neck. She fell and was forced to crawl towards him, as soon as she got close enough he ordered her to open his pants and “relieve” him. She undid the ties of his pants and once his length was free she engulfed him with her mouth, sucking him skillfully as she was taught. The tightness of the collar made everything even more suffocating than it already was, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as she was forced to maintain eye contact with him.

She wanted to die.

This abuse would only end when he felt satisfied and when he finally shot her throat that session had not ended. The man ordered her to sit on his lap and so she obeyed, while keeping the collar around her neck tight to the point that it was difficult to breathe, he slid his hand up her thigh slowly and cruelly, she had no choice. Except to endure that horrible touch that would only end when he wanted.

The connection was broken and Astarion woke up from that vision, he didn't dare say because he already imagined what she went through.

“We never had regular sex” She said suddenly. “He had this strange and twisted obsession with me being a “virgin”, of course, that didn't stop him from finding other creative ways to fuck me.”

Astarion glanced at her, she had her face buried in her knees while his hands hugged her legs.

“I'm sorry…” Was all he could say, still with the vivid feeling of that memory in his own throat. “But you are free now. Can I... Get a little closer to you?”

“Yes…”

He sat next to her and was careful to silently ask for permission to touch her, Calamity just rested her head on Astarion's shoulder in response. He wrapped his arm around her back, hugging her gently to comfort her.

“In the end I made that night depressing.”

“Well, not so much, we still have wine to make things better".

She laughed and agreed with him, taking the glass she had left aside and drinking it completely, in complete silence they completely drank the bottle together.

��I remembered a better story, do you want to hear it to improve this atmosphere?”

“Darling, I'm all ears.”

After that night Astarion began to hover around Calamity in a different way, he was softer and of course he never stopped teasing her or gracing her with his typical sarcasm..., but he was more protective in a certain way. When the party with the tieflings took place at the camp, to Astarion's surprise, it was she who suggested that they spend the night together, he accepted, but in the end the vampire didn't have the courage to sleep with her. Instead of a night of passion, they just had another conversation filled with wine and sincerity, he listened to her and supported her.

After that night their conversations became more frequent even when they left the camp, sometimes they were so random and other times they were something that only the two of them knew which left their companions intrigued. Once while walking Astarion asked if Calamity liked red ribbons when she questioned him confused, his response was:

“I saw you last night with your hair tied up with a red ribbon and I remembered that when I met you when you were a girl you were also wearing a red bow in your hair.”

She was very surprised that he had noticed this detail.

Now she was with Shadowheart doing a reconnaissance on the westernmost road near the mountain pass, they were checking if everything was safe since they were going to cross the next day. They decided to split into pairs, it was no surprise that Astarion was upset when it was decided that he would investigate further east with Karlach.

“So... You and Astarion.”

“Me and Astarion what?”

“Don't be shy, it's impossible not to see how much closer you've become, he hovers around you like a shadow and your conversations are a bit intimate, I'd say. I see that the night you spent together was very pleasant.”

“You're very curious today, Shadowheart.” She joked, teasing her friend. Calamity and Shadowheart became very close as well, Shadowheart's appreciation and trust for her was clear.

“I'm just expressing my “interest” in what I see, I understand the appeal that it has, but be sure to be cautious.”

“ I appreciate your concern, Shadowheart.” An exchange of sincere friendly smiles and the matter closed.

Everything seemed to be fine, but suddenly Calamity pushed her companion and got in front of her, it was so fast that Shadowheart could only understand what had happened when they both hid behind the rocks. The cleric saw the arrow stuck in the shoulder of her friend who had protected her without hesitation.

“Shit... Some bandits?” Shadowheart was ready to fight, but was stopped by her companion.

“Shadowheart, listen to me, I want you to get out of here and go after Karlach and Astarion while I hold them back... Understand?”

“ Are you crazy?! I won't leave you here alone!”

“I won't argue! They are not mere bandits... They are from my Guild.” The cleric swallowed hard upon hearing this. “It's a group of assassins who are after me, they won't kill me, but they will kill anyone who is with me. Just you and I won't take care of them, so please go after them and leave me here! I will buy time and in the worst case I will leave a trail for you to find me.”

“No! Are you really thinking about letting yourself be captured?!”

“GO FAST!! You are rational, Shadowheart, you know this is for the best.” The cleric wanted to disagree, but she knew that her companion had a shred of reason in this whole situation and had more knowledge and awareness of the dangers than she did. Even grudgingly, Shadowheart agreed, but before going she took the arrow from her companion's shoulder and handed her a healing potion.

“Hold tight! I'll be back soon.” Calamity just smiled and nodded and didn't look back as she went to face her former companions so her friend could escape.

“Well, everything is clear here... Don't make that face fancy boy, we'll meet them soon.” Karlach joked when he saw how Astarion was grumbling with irritated looks.

“This is all a waste of time! Of course there's nothing around here, we killed those imposter paladins and there's been no sign of gnolls since we killed that bunch.”

“Come on, Astarion, stop complaining Soldier is just doing what she thinks is right so that we can all have a safe crossing.”

“I'm not complaining, just being realistic, it won't be from this side that any threat will come to our “happy group”.

“Gods, this is all because you just want to be close with Caly.” He rolled his eyes as if that was the biggest nonsense ever said. “Oh come on, stop acting like that, you two have been a couple for a long time.”

Astarion was ready to protest when they saw Shadowheart running towards them in distress... And she was alone.

Immediately anxiety him and he ran to the half-elf.

“Where is Calamity?!” He asked impatiently, almost aggressively.

“She... She's in danger! She told me to come after you to ask for help…”

“AND YOU LEFT HER ALONE?!” He grabbed Shadowheart's shoulders in an aggressive grip and his red eyes glowed with anger.

“Hey, calm down! Shadowheart what exactly happened?”

“We don't have time for explanations! All you need to know is that we were attacked by a group from Calamity’s Guild and she stayed behind to buy time, we need to go help her!”

Astarion's blood boiled, he immediately ran in the direction the cleric came from and didn't listen to anything else. He ran as fast as he could hoping he wouldn't be too late, then he heard Calamity scream.

Soon he saw her fighting injured and alone against five other figures dressed in black, he did not hesitate to attack.

His blow was accurate, his target didn't even have the chance to understand what happened when he fell dead to the ground. Astarion tightened his grip on the handles of his daggers and when he turned his vision towards Calamity she was on the ground and the man in front of her picked up something and attached it to her neck... It was a collar.

“NO!! GET THIS OFF OF ME!! LET ME GO!!” Calamity screamed as She struggled to escape his captor's hands.

“Stop barking, bitch! Master wants you back.” The man dressed in black with his face covered by a hood grabbed the chain and pulled it violently. Astarion was furious to see that scene and set out to kill them all, Karlach and Shadowheart joining him.

“Hey, Fangs! We'll take care of them, go after the Soldier!” Karlach shouted while hitting one of them with her ax.

“You do not need to say another word!” He responded by throwing one of his daggers at another of those hooded men before running to catch up with his companion and her captor.

That scene drove him crazy with rage, seeing her struggling to free herself, struggling while that bastard grabbed her neck and suffocated her. He let himself be carried away by pure animalistic instinct and jumped at them, causing them to fall to the ground giving Calamity the chance to move away... But she didn't do it.

She was as overcome with anger as he was, Calamity climbed on top of her captor and bit him. Yes, she bit him, the man screamed in desperation, fighting, but it was in vain, she seemed to be twice as strong at that moment. She didn't have fangs like Astarion, but her teeth did as much damage as any fang. She sank her teeth into his flesh, chewed it and made blood flow. The man struggled until in a few moments he became motionless, inert and finally dead. When her mouth released the corpse's neck, the first thing she did was spit out the flesh and blood that were still in her mouth, she was all covered in blood, her mouth, body... Her previously braided hair was now a mess after all the fight, she remained on top of the body and Astarion saw everything, he watched the whole scene perplexed.

He was surprised by the way she acted, as wild as a bloodthirsty vampire and her eyes... Opaque, cold and distant as if she weren't there.

“Darling…” He called her and then the sparkle returned to her eyes as well as the panic.

“Take it away from me... Take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, TAKE IT OFF!!” She began to scream and desperately pull the collar around her neck, scratching her skin in panic.

Astarion noticed the runes carved into the metal around her neck and immediately grabbed her wrists holding her back, she continued to scream and struggle repeating the same line.

“Take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off, take it off TAKE IT OFF!!”

“Calamity look at me!” He held her more firmly. “Calm down, breathe... It's okay. It's over, they're dead.” She looked at him, still in panic, shaking and tears welling in her eyes.

“T-Take it off... Take it off my neck... It's suffocating, I can't breathe, please take it off. Astarion... Please, please, I beg you, take this away.” She begged in tears.

“Caly... We'll get this out of you I promise, but you know it's under a spell and we don't want to risk it. Let's get out of here first, okay?” She agreed shakily and in tears. “Shh, shh... It's okay, you did it. You are free.” He released her wrists and then hugged her, she returned the gesture in a strong burst of relief, still with her in his arms he carefully moved her, taking her off the corpse.

“Let's go to camp, I... well?” He asked, looking at the long chain. “We don’t want this to drag on.” She nodded and then Astarion took the chain and rolled it up to get into her hands. “No one will have this in their hands except you from now on.”

She looked at him in surprise, tears still streaming from her eyes, but she thanked him silently, squeezing the chains in her hands. Astarion kissed her face and wiped away her tears with sweet, calm kisses.He put his arm around her back and legs to carry her, Calamity in turn didn't say anything, just rested her head on Astarion's shoulder and let him carry her. Soon Karlach and Shadowheart joined them and the group hurried back to camp.

When they arrived at the camp, Astarion didn't explain anything, he just walked past everyone and went towards Calamity's tent and let Karlach explain everything, Shadowheart followed them and waited for him to accommodate her.

“I'll take care of her…” She said calmly.

“Okay, I'll get some towels and water.” Astarion got up and left the tent, leaving them alone.

But before going to get what he had said he went to talk to Gale first, he talked about the runes and asked him to be on standby. The wizard didn't question it, he just agreed, the entire camp understood that it was something delicate and everyone mobilized on their own.

Wyll and Lae’zel were in charge of making the rounds with Karlach, the others remained in the camp, but stayed alert. Halsin also showed her solidarity by preparing some medicine and tea so that Calamity would feel calmer and more relaxed, that was what she needed at the moment, calm and support. Astarion, after leaving the towels and water with Shadowheart, walked away but remained in sight.

He was obviously worried and was still angry about what happened, he wanted to say that if they hadn't split up this wouldn't have happened... But now it wouldn't make any difference.

Time passed and then Shadowheart left the tent and walked towards Astarion.

“She wants to see you.” He looked at her in surprise, but agreed and walked towards Calamity's tent.

He lifted the fabric from the entrance and saw her sitting there in her sleeping bag, she was clean with her wounds treated and seemed calmer. Calamity was still drinking the tea Halsin had made for her.

“How do you feel, my dear?” He sat next to her.

“As if I were anesthetized... I don't really know…” She lowered her gaze to look at her reflection in the tea in the mug in her hands. “I wanted to thank you for everything…”

“No need, dear, we agreed that we would take care of each other, remember? And... I'm sorry we haven't gotten that thing off your neck yet, but we will. Now don't worry about that. Can I brush your hair? Sorry Darling, Shadowheart did a great job cleaning you up, but your hair is still a mess.” She laughed softly and agreed with a sweet smile on her lips.

“Make yourself comfortable, Astarion.” The elf took the hairbrush and little by little he combed and untangled the strands, carefully and delicately while she finished drinking her tea. “ Astarion... Could you come a little closer?” He complied with her request and was surprised by a kiss.

The kiss was calm, shy, but sweet. Very sweet and kind.

“Darling, I would love more kisses like this in the future.”

THAT IS IT!! Thank you so much for reading and sorry for any grammatical errors… English is not my native language and I am still learning correctly. Soon I will post more HCs of Caly and her brother!

#astarion x tav #astarion x oc #baldurs gate 3 #my tav #oc tav #bg3 tav #bg3 #tav bg3 #tav #oc tav calamity #astarion romance #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x f!tav #astarion/tav #tav x astarion #astarion

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hold-him-down · 11 months

Text

Leo Tells a Story

TW: references to whipping, references to institutionalized slavery

Notes: somewhere around the 2 year mark

✥ ✥ ✥

“I don’t think I’m getting out of here before midnight,” Luke grumbles from the other end of the line. Rob Bennett can practically hear the frown lines deepening as he pictures his guilt-laden younger brother considering all the possible ways to excuse himself from the late session on the senate floor.

There’s unrest, though. Last week, a new bill had been introduced allowing for broader use of corporal punishment on the private level, and when the public got ahold of it, protests immediately began. Luke had been held in emergency sessions almost every day since, but seldom had they taken him past sunset.

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks now. Rob nods, although Luke won’t see it.

“You want me to stop by your place?” he asks, pizza in one hand and a stuffed animal in the other. He lobs it into Eliza’s bedroom, empty now for the next week. “You know he’s probably up to his ears in Moby Dick or something equally enthralling.”

And he thinks it’s probably true, but still, lately his visits to Luke’s house have been a good opportunity to build something good in the shit storm that is brewing.

✥ ✥ ✥

Rob’s first thought when he walks into his brother’s townhouse and finds Leo laying on the floor, an obscenely fat book resting open on his chest, his eyes closed but his fingers fisted: Leo is drunk?

Rob’s second thought, immediately after: That doesn’t sound like the Leo he has come to know and love.

“Hi,” Leo says (mumbles?) then, but he doesn’t move. And then, he adds, “I don’t feel good,” and a few pieces fall into place.

With a smile of equal parts fondness and sympathy, Rob drops to a kneel beside him, plucking the book off his chest and dog-earing the page before setting it to the side. Leo squints up at him, his eyes just slightly unfocused, and rolls over with a groan. He pushes himself up onto the sofa, Rob kind-of-sort-of shadowing the movements while trying not to be too obvious.

“Did you at least take the good drugs?” Rob says, hand hovering just over Leo’s shoulder blades. He can never quite pinpoint what the right move here is, but he’s pretty sure at this point that hovering is exactly what his brother would do, so he rolls with it.

Leo folds himself in half, his head between his knees, the curve of his spine visible through his shirt. Rob nudges him, offering a sympathetic smile as Leo’s eyes meet his. “Leo?”

“I don’t know,” Leo says. “Aspirin?” he continues. His arm curls under his knees and he draws his body in tighter. And then, as if on cue, he adds, “Luke said I could. I thought it would help.”

Rob picks the discarded bill bottle from the coffee table, rotating it in his hands. “Aspirin fucks with you?”

Leo nods, a miserable sound coming from him, but he rights himself then, staring at the bottle in Rob’s hand. “Only when I chase it with tequila.”

For a moment, Rob freezes, gauging the likelihood that Leo is fucking with him. Uncertainty colors his generally pretty casual demeanor. Would he be shocked if Leo finally said fuck it and tapped into his probably-moronic twenty-five-year-old instincts to dull the ache of what he suspected was near constant discomfort? Yes, he decides. He would be. Still–

“Leo,” Rob says, uncapping Leo’s bottle of water and tilting it toward him. He pauses. “I don’t say this to freak you out, but are you fucking with me right now?”

Leo laughs out a breath but nods into his knees, then stretches his back and rights himself, planting his feet on the floor. He takes the water and clears his throat, wincing as he does. “Sorry,” Leo says. And then, he adds, “Yes. Most drugs mess with me.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of medical sense,” Rob says as he sits, setting the bottle back down. “Was it always that way?”

Leo shakes his head. “It got worse after the… – training– started. I don’t know, they made me take a lot. Sometimes I think they were trying to make me sick. Sometimes they would bet on how sick I would get.” He sucks in a deep breath and Rob nods, trying to keep the open fury from registering on his face. “I think it started then. Some Pavlovian thing.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he replies distantly. They’re silent as the news begins a broadcast of the Senate meeting. There’s no sound, but Luke’s speaking… emphatically, with a banner of updates running beneath him.

“Luke said your back’s been giving you trouble?” Rob asks minutes later, eying the way Leo holds himself now.

“My neck,” Leo corrects. “Usually it’s okay, I don’t… I must have just slept wrong.”

“You’re too young to have neck pains from sleeping wrong. Luke making you sleep on the floor again?” he asks with a smile. Leo’s eyes are still on the TV, his expression devoid of any real emotion, but there’s something there. Rob gives him a moment before he says, gentler now, “Can I take a look?”

Leo, for his part, mostly looks tired. “It just hurts sometimes,” he says, bowing his head. He puts his hands over his ears, locking his fingers around his head, and Rob recognizes the gesture for what it is: bracing himself, holding himself still, doing what he needs to do.

Rob is light in his touch, asking Leo to move when he needs to, pinpointing the pressure points. Leo’s jumpy, because Leo’s always jumpy, but there’s also an alarming amount of tension along the muscles.

Maybe he did sleep wrong. Maybe he pulled something. Maybe he carries a lot of tension generally, and it wears him down.

But for Leo Evans to willfully open that pill bottle–

“How often does it hurt?” Rob asks, guiding Leo’s chin up and gently pressing along his spine.

Leo swallows. “Not often,” he replies. “Not usually.”

As Rob releases him, Leo adds, “It’s not a big deal,” and then, he amends: “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay,” Rob says lightly. “It can be a small ticket item. But–” he takes a breath “–if I only have half the story, I will feel… very sad.”

Leo lifts his head, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll feel... sad?” Leo repeats, with just a hint of, maybe teasing, behind his tone?

“Very,” Rob says, holding his eye contact for a second longer than he needed to. Sometimes, in these moments, Rob is reminded that Leo can hold his own. That he’s not this broken person everyone thinks he is. That he doesn’t need to be handled with kid gloves the way his parents handle him, that he doesn’t need the protection Luke constantly seeks to provide.

And then his mouth works ahead of his brain and he says, “Will you tell me why your neck hurts, as seldom as it may?” And if he planned out his words, he might phrase it as less of a demand, but it’s there, and it lingers. “I promise it’ll stay between us, if that’s what you want.”

Leo whistles out a sharp breath, and his eyes meet Rob’s, and his expression shifts. He glances at the TV, where Luke continues to absolutely dominate the senate floor, and turns it off.

“I don’t think I’m really supposed to talk about it,” he says, after a prolonged pause.

Rob goes to the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch, offering one to Leo. Unsurprisingly, he shakes his head.

When Rob returns, he takes a slow drink, then sets it to the side.

Every muscle in Leo’s body is tense, his fight or flight response laid out in front of them, and just as Rob considers the exact words he needs to speak to let him off the hook, Leo’s hands ball into fists at his side and he takes a deep breath.

Leo tells Rob the story then, unexpected in its own right, about the day– one of the days, maybe– that he was tortured just for the sake of being tortured. Complete with a fucking… presentation, and doctors, and video cameras. He recounts it with a detached precision that rattles Rob, the feeling of the whip slicing into his muscles, the feeling of fingers pressing into wounds, the sleepless nights that followed and the uncertainty of when it would happen again.

When he finishes, Rob’s holding his cup so tightly his fingers are white. He takes a breath, forcibly loosening his muscles, and swallows. He waits until he’s sure he can speak calmly to speak at all, so keenly aware that Leo’s waiting, and that Leo doesn’t do well with Big Feelings, although nothing in his immediate expression or posture gives it away.

Leo shrugs then, not for the first time that evening.

“So that’s why it hurts sometimes,” he says softly, his eyes glued to Rob’s fingers, his grip on that glass a preview of what will one day be his grip on the neck of whoever was in charge of that fucking site.

He takes a breath, the new knowledge settling into him, working its way through his nervous system and penetrating the core of who he is. He thinks of all the ways he’ll get the site shut down, of all the ways he’ll get the whole fucking system shut down; he thinks of what Luke will say when he tells him, and in almost the same instant that he remembers, Leo says-

“You can’t tell him.”

And Rob swallows, setting his empty glass on a magazine on the table. Leo’s waiting for him to speak, but he doesn’t know where to begin. The medical concerns with an experimental torture device slicing into Leo’s neck and causing what is probably irreparable damage. The mental scars that he’s always known run so deep in this boy, but maybe he still doesn’t fucking get how deep. The absolute blind rage that he can’t contain enough to even push out the simplest of words.

“It’s illegal,” is all Rob can come up with, what could be full minutes later.

“It doesn’t matter,” Leo replies. “It doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not; I don’t think anyone cares about the legality of anything happening in those sites.” Leo’s expression is almost completely devoid of emotion, a perfect mask trained into him by some asshole in some white room somewhere, but Rob knows there’s turmoil behind them.

“It matters, Leo. It all fucking matters. You matter. Your suffering matters. Your personhood fucking–” He doesn’t clock the aggression in his own tone, the volume of his voice, the fury behind his eyes, until he looks at Leo. He swallows back his anger. He’ll find the video. He’ll find the video, or Luke will, and things will change. They have to.

He can hear the key turning in the lock, he sees Leo’s eye land on the door behind him, and he swallows back whatever pieces of the rage that he can in time for his brother to step into the living room.

taglist: @whump-cravings, @afabulousmrtake, @crystalquartzwhump, @maracujatangerine, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @distinctlywhumpthing, @thecyrulik, @highwaywhump, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @finder-of-rings, @dont-touch-my-soup, @skyhawkwolf, @suspicious-whumping-egg, @also-finder-of-rings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @prodigal-zoe, @peachy-panic, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @urban-dark, @nicolepascaline, @quietly-by-myself, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-blog, @seasaltandcopper, @angstyaches, @i-msonotcreative, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @anonintrovert, @whump-world, @squishablesunbeam, @considerablecolors, @whumpcereal, @whumperfully,

#the fighter #references to whipping #references to institutionalized slavery #this was actually the winner of the poll so #here you have it #!!

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kaseyskat · 10 months

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the other day i wrote a little smth as a warm up that is based mostly on musings i associate with @officialgleamstar (thank u travvy ily) and i have decided against my better judgement to post it! for funsies

~~~

Taylor’s mom bought the house.

It was a gift to them, after Normal had studied and studied to learn a spell that could regrow her disintegrated hand and after the near end of the world left them far too behind in their schooling to catch up. A safe place: they didn’t have to live there, but Link stayed there as he slowly mended the relationship with his dad, and sometimes Taylor would come for solitude, and sometimes Normal would visit just to get away from his family.

And Scary? Well.

After her stepdad’s death, she hadn’t gone back home. How could she? Her relationship with her mother was irreparably destroyed, torn to shreds and left a bleeding corpse. It was hard enough to call her when all was said and done, hands trembling as she tried to explain the craziness of the world.

She loves her mother. Her mother doesn’t deserve this: a heart broken twice over, the death of her husband and subsequent death of the daughter she knew. No, it was easier for Scary to go to Normal’s dad and beg him to use magic to wipe her mother’s memory, to give her a chance to start again.

She hopes that she’s happy, somewhere, somehow. It would make everything worth it.

Hermie stays with her at the new house most often. He, too, couldn’t go back home to his adopted parents after everything, not with how long he’s been gone, the truth of his heritage revealed. Despite it, Scary almost doesn’t mind: she likes the company, surprisingly enough.

Hermie’s mellowed out over the years. Now, at eighteen, she’s been working on her GED just like Scary has, wanting to fly over the world and audition at different colleges. I still think it’d be neat to get on Broadway, they had confessed to Scary once, when the dark of the night had been heavy and oppressive and all they could do was sit on the porch and share a blunt. Feels like a silly goal after the end of the world, though.

When they’re not trying so hard, he’s actually kind of a neat person. Scary finds his company endearing.

They never had gotten their marriage annulled. It was pointless: Taylor’s dad, for all his charms, was legally dead after disappearing when Taylor was a kid, and it would just be too much effort. Scary doesn’t think she minds, even if she hadn’t technically consented to the marriage in the first place.

Tonight, though, Normal is the one visiting. She finds him sitting in the living area, curled up in the pillows, staring wistfully at the TV screen when she comes down the stairs to make herself dinner.

“Hey, Norm,” she greets, softly, watching the way his gaze flickers to her and back again. “What’s wrong?”

“Hi, Terri,” Normal mumbles, and he shifts around a little bit, leaving just enough space for Scary to squeeze in next to him, drawing him into her arms. He goes willingly, pliant against her chest, shivering.

His hair has grown out into a wild mess of curls that he’s braided loosely. It’s cute. He’s cute, although Scary would never admit so out loud.

“Mom’s made some progress with Margaret,” he explains, his tone muffled as Scary starts to work on unbraiding his hair– as it is, it’s half fallen out, and will only make it harder to sleep later, she knows the pain pretty well. “But with Dad spending so much time with my grandparents… I don’t know. It just gives me the creeps. Is that bad?”

“If you want me to tell you you’re not a bad person, you’ve come to the wrong gal,” Scary snorts. “I’m glad to see you though. Feels like it’s been forever since you came to visit last.”

“I might stay for a few days this time. At least until Dad gets back. She told me that she’d be finding an apartment when she came back to San Dimas, so I won’t have to deal with Margaret smiling at me all the time.” Normal shudders, and he makes a quiet whimpering sound as Scary’s fingers brush a little too close to his neck.

“Stay as long as you want, seriously,” Scary tells him. “Hermie’s been practicing monologues at me again, and let me tell you, I did not miss the method acting one bit.”

Normal laughs at that, and then they fall quiet.

For some reason, he’s the easiest one to deal with, in the aftermath of it all. Link is just… angry at the world, and all the sweet charm that had attracted Scary to him in the first place is gone, replaced with a quiet frustration. Oh, he’s still the loyal teddy bear to them and the others, but even as he repairs things with Grant…

…he hasn’t been the same, after it all.

Then again, had any of them? Scary thinks if she told her younger self that one day she’d be here, living in an extravagant house paid by a famous voice actress, holding Normal Oak in the closest facsimile to a relationship she’s ever had… well, she’d think it was a crazy fever dream, for sure.

It’s nice. Scary’s had the concept of family broken and plastered with glue and duck-tape and then broken again, but somehow she’s found it, and she’s found it here: playing with Normal’s hair, twisting the curls in her fingers now that it’s freed from its constraints, his head tucked into her chest, body pliant against hers.

It’s the closest thing to love that she has, and by the Gods Above, she’s going to take it.

“Norm, I can feel you falling asleep against me,” she finally says, snickering with amusement at the way Normal only hums in response. “Do you wanna change first? Or at least go upstairs?”

“I’m already comfy right here,” he replies, the pout evident in his tone, and to punctuate it, he nuzzles further into her chest, nudging Scary backwards until she’s comfy herself against the arm of the couch, Normal crumpled in her arms. Here, their legs are intertwined, and she can still play with his hair, and the blankets they keep on the couch for this specific reason are all tangled around them.

“You’re gonna have to deal with my backache tomorrow,” she warns, but she can’t keep the smile out of her tone, and she hesitates, and then commits, leaning in to press a kiss to Normal’s forehead. “Get some rest, dork. I’ll get Hermie to make us pancakes in the morning.”

“Hermie’s pancakes suck,” Normal huffs, but as his breath evens out, Scary just smiles again.

It’s not what she pictured for herself, sure, but in this moment? There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

#dndads #kasey writes stuff #scary marlowe #normal oak #normscary #as close to romantic normscary as i’d ever write i think #i prefer them to be unhealthy levels of queerplatonic #but :) beloveds #this is kinda a. after the storm scenario #idk. it was fun! still thinking about them

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hetalianskywalker · 22 days

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Day 5: Two Siren Songs

Pairing: Siren Fives x Siren Reader

Summary: You hear a siren’s song. Being a siren yourself, it shouldn’t affect you. However, it draws you in.

Author’s Note: The moment I started planning this AU out I saw this man as a Siren. Also, sorry that it’s shorter than usual, but I think it works.

Warnings: Once again, there is reference to sirens eating people.

Word Count: 485

Prompt: It was rumored that a siren could only be drawn in by another siren if they were destined by fate to be together. Character A is a siren that traded their tail for legs years ago, but then hears a beautiful voice from the ocean, telling them to go back.

Prompt from Mermaid AU’s for OTPs by auideas

After all the continued unrest with the New Mer, Death Watch, and the True Mer, along with there being no active Sea Alor, you had given up on your people. You had once been a Mer or more specifically a siren. The downside to being a member of the Mer is that you can’t live without the ocean for long. While selkies were prone to longing and depression when they could not return, the rest of the species would start by feeling glass in their feet before slowly withering away.

You traded your ability to shift for permanent legs and a body that never tired of the land. The only thing you kept that still made you not quite human were your voice; your ability to summon your sharp claws and teeth had faded over time.

You do miss the ocean sometimes and still choose to live in a village close to the sea. One night as you prepare for sleep, a faint song filtered into your window. Half enrolled, your feet begin to follow it out of your house and toward the beach.

“This shouldn’t be possible.” You think aloud before your eyes grow wide. “Unless…” Then your running after the song.

Don’t go. You think over and over, praying to whatever ocean diety might still remain. A siren could not drawn in my the song of another unless they were destined to be. You had always thought it was an old myth whispered in Mando’a between sirens.

You’re close enough to hear the words now as you run along the sand. His voice sings of returning to the ocean and going home. Had you always wanted that somewhere deep down?

Your feet stop when you see him. He’s sitting on a rock in the distance and your eyes well with tears. Once your catch your breath, you summon all the magic you can and feel the song course through you. You never really hear the desires of the person on the other end unless you truly focus; most sirens don’t because it becomes harder to eat a human when you know their deepest desire.

This time, of course, you truly focus. A dream of victory and freedom for himself and an army of brothers; it’s melancholy, but beautiful. Becoming lost in the song, you close your eyes at some point. Calloused hands gently cup your face and the song dies on your lips.

“You were brought in by my song, mesh’la?” While he’s in awe, the flirty undertone makes you blush slightly. Your eyes scan over his face, knowing immediately he was a Mer clone. You linger on his goatee and the tattoo on his temple before meeting his eyes.

“Just as you were brought in by mine.” You tease in return, leaning into his touch. He chuckles before leaning his forehead against yours and you both stay like that a long time.

#star wars #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #mermay #fives day #the clones wars #mermaid au

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hannahssimblr · 7 months

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Chapter Three

I’ve taken to my sketchbook this summer. I bring it down to the beach every morning, and after my eight o’clock swim I sit on my beach towel and draw for about an hour. Sometimes I draw from my imagination, and sometimes I draw from life. If there’s a person walking along the shore I will challenge myself to capture them in a few rapid strokes of my pencil before they’ve moved too far away for me to continue, or if a house is cast in interesting light that day I’ll try to capture it with a few fluid strokes of paint from my travel watercolour kit and a thick brush. I don’t show my drawings to anybody because I’d be too embarrassed to, but they aren’t for anybody else either. I don’t paint or draw to get approval, it feels like the one area of my life where I can be free of judgement, able to create something without being marked or graded or compared to somebody else.

I usually work on my sketchbook until my phone alarm buzzes at half past nine. This is the time that I know Kelly and Claire will be getting out of bed and I’m usually starving by then anyway. I meet them back at the mobile home and we walk together into the village cafe to buy a bag of pastries and cups of hot coffee for breakfast.

“It’s cloudy.” Kelly observes one morning in early July. We amble over the sandy boardwalk towards the beach and settle in together onto a bench outside the local surf shack.

“Not a day for the beach” Claire agrees, looking up at the sky, a woolly grey shawl wrapped around the cliffs. It had been clear and bright earlier, but a mist had settled in during the last hour and blurred the sea and sky into one . I wonder what we’ll do today if we won’t be hanging out on the beach again. I tell them that the water is still warm, and if they want to go for a swim it might be nice all the same, but they disagree. The clouds furthest away are black and filled with rain, and neither of them wants to get their hair wet.

The village is so much busier this week now that the primary school children have finished up for the summer. Small children and families mill about, a constant stream going in and out of the surf shack, buying ice cream cones and slotting coins into arcade machines. There’s something very retro about this place, the kind of sun bleached seaside haunt that looks as though it’s sat here in the sand unchanged for fifty years. The Beach Boys are playing over the speakers and a middle aged man with white hair and a Hawaiian style shirt is serving coffees and bags of chips over the counter inside as he sings along. The shelves behind him are stacked with bottles of suncream, cans of fizzy drinks, first aid implements, and T-Shirts that all feature the same cartoonish shark with a wide grin. They truly have everything.

The Hawaiian shirt man comes out to the front of the shack to add a poster to the community notice board and gives us a grin when Kelly calls out a hello to him.

“Well girls.” He says and ambles over towards us, moving in that slow, easy way that people who live on the beach year round do. “Lovely weather eh?”

“Yeah sure.” Kelly snorts. “Grand auld day.”

“Nice one for the surf though.” He looks over his shoulder where a line of children in wetsuits are heading towards the shore. It’s true, the waves are bigger now than they have been since the storm last week. “Ye wouldn’t think of signing up for the camp would you?” We laugh, clearly the surf camp is not intended for girls our age.

“I see that Liam is helping out with it again this year.” Kelly says, gesturing to a young man loading surfboards into a beach buggy behind us. “Good on him. He’s got his work cut out with all these children running around. ”

The boy who is apparently called Liam hears this, and he calls out to us from the surfboard shed. “Havoc, sure they go mad once the boards are brought out, most of the work is to control the crowd.” He has a boyish grin and classic surfer looks. His curly blonde hair is lighter than the tan on his face, and a tiny scar above his eyebrow stands out white against golden brown. He comes over and places a hand on the back of the older man’s neck, shaking him playfully. “Skiving off again are you dad? Out here chatting shite to the women as usual.”

He smiles at us “Good to have you back again Kelly, and you’ve brought some friends?”

“Yes,” She says. “Liam, this is Evie and Claire, Evie and Claire, this is Liam. And his dad Anthony.” Liam shakes our hands, and I feel shy when he looks at me. His eyes are very blue.

“Will you all be coming to the karaoke night later on?” He points to the flyer that his dad pinned up on the notice board moments earlier. “It’ll be in the pub down on the quay. It’s always great fun, at least I always think so.”

“I’m not sure about that.” I laugh. The idea of standing up in front of strangers and singing is making my cheeks feel hot already. For me, being observed at all sometimes feels like a horrifying ordeal. Liam smiles “Are you a bit shy, Evie?” Again, I blush.

“She’ll be grand when she gets there.” Kelly says. “It’ll be a bit of fun. What do you think, Claire?” Claire shrugs and sips her coffee. “Could be good. I can’t sing but I don’t mind karaoke.”

“We’ll see you all there.” Says Liam decisively, and then looks over at the children waiting on the beach. “Better get to work.” He races back over to the beach buggy, hops in and drives it over the boardwalk towards the sea. We say our goodbyes to Anthony too, and we three are alone together again Kelly nudges me sharply in the ribs. “What about him?” I pretend not to know what she’s talking about. “What about him? Seems like a friendly person to me. A very normal boy.”

She rolls her eyes. “What about him for you? Do you think he’s good looking?”

“Yes I suppose.” I admit “But he’s not really my type.”

“If he’s not your type then who is?”

I feel interrogated. I don’t know how to explain it to her, but the idea of being romantically attached to Liam in any way makes me panicky. There’s nothing wrong with him, it just feels like too much pressure. “I don’t know, I just think he’s more your type and not mine.”

My attempt to flip the focus onto her backfires. “Oh, so he’s not good enough for you, but he’s good enough for me?” I feel like she is deliberately misunderstanding me.

“No…” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. How do I explain that if I like a boy, I want the connection to happen organically? I don’t want to be set up like some loveless little freak who needs someone to hold her hand through the dating process. I want to meet somebody and feel comfortable enough to get to know them without the pressure of my friends watching me from the sidelines, judging my every move, coaching me in what to say and how to act, and then forcing me through the humiliating debrief period after. I feel like I’m a pitiful project sometimes, a specimen in a lab labelled ‘never had a boyfriend… and is also very weird.’

I don’t say any of this though, and as usual I end up apologising to her. I tell her that I’ll try talking to him at the karaoke night and we leave it at that.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Is This Home?

Request from anon: Can you do Derek ! Daughter reader (15) she’s still getting used to savannah being there with them, and maybe she gets upset that they don’t hang out as much because of her, and reader has a breakdown and leaves the house in the middle of the night and she gets lost and hides in an abandoned house until someone finds her (maybe a neighbor of Derek’s) and they call Derek to come get reader and she’s just like no I don’t wanna talk to him and he sits down and is like listen I know you don’t like me being with someone since your mom and I understand that but you will always be my baby, and they go home that night and she sleeps in the middle of them

Derek Morgan x daughter!reader

Summary: Ever since Savannah moved in with you and your dad, you feel like you’ve been losing him. The night he forgets about your special father-daughter time you flee to a place that feels more homey than your actual home.

A/N: I changed it up the abandoned house part just a little bit because I thought this would make it more meaningful, but overall I tried to stick as close to the request as possible. I hope you like it!

CW: I had fun with swear words in this one (I swore a lot when I was 15. Tbh I still do.), reader's mother is dead, kinda angsty with a fluffy ending. Reader loves her Aunt Penny.

---

“Alright, (Y/N). You think you can hold down the fort tonight?” Your dad, Derek, asked playfulling, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaning over the couch to look at you.

You put down your phone and made a face. “It’s Sunday night,” you said.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the Y sound like he always did when you said something obvious. “Which means that I trust you’ll be in bed by the time Savannah and I get home from our night out.”

“But-” you started, but it didn’t matter; your dad was already headed upstairs to get ready for his date. The only way he would hear you now was by yelling to remind him that you two ALWAYS did movie night on Sunday. Your mom had died when you were ten and since then your dad had made it a point to spend as much of his free time with you as possible. Unless he was away on a case, movie nights were never interrupted. For five years that was how it had been.

And then Savannah came along.

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t mean. But she wasn’t your mom and sometimes it felt like she was taking your dad away from you. The first time it happened, her and Derek had just started dating. You were so happy that your dad was happy you failed to notice that the same day he took her to the park was the day he was supposed to take you to the firing range. The second time it happened you took the metro from school straight to Quantico to show him that you’d gotten straight A’s on your report card, only to find that he had left work on time for once to take Savannah to see a play (at least your Uncle Spencer was impressed and Aunt Penny took you to get ice cream on the drive home). The third time it happened was the day Savannah moved in with the two of you. The Saturday that was supposed to be spent practicing for your judo certification was instead spent lifting and moving boxes.

Since then it had all gone downhill so fast. Dinners that were usually spent on the couch with just you and your dad shooting the shit about sports turned into dinners at the table making small talk about what everyone’s day was like. The messages he sent to you every night when he was away on a case came to your phone half the time and Savannah’s the other half. Even restoring houses with your dad wasn’t the same anymore. You loved to sit around the table with him and pick out colors for the walls from the swatches he brought home, but of course he had to show the options to Savannah first. She always seemed to throw out the fun colors in favor of more “tasteful” ones before you could give your opinion.

And now your dad was ditching you on movie night to take her out to dinner.

If she was a serial killer you wouldn’t have minded- you were used to your dad having to miss movie night to catch criminals- but he was abandoning you for his girlfriend. His girlfriend. You would much rather have been ditched because Hannibal Lecter was on the loose running wild through some town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere than be left alone so your father could go out to dinner with some woman you hadn’t known for all that long. SSA Derek Morgan would have a good excuse for missing movie night then, but he wasn’t a Supervisory Special Agent right now- he was your dad… and he forgot about you.

You went up to your room, not bothering to turn off the TV which already showed which movie you had picked for that night. Sitting on your bed, you picked up the picture of your mom that sat on your nightstand. You weren’t sure if you were listening for an answer from her spirit, or if you were just lost in the moment of missing her, but it felt like you looked at her picture for hours.

There was a knock on your door. You put the picture of your mom down before calling, “Come in!”

Derek was dressed up a bit more than normal- he traded his typical leather jacket for a blazer and his jeans for casual slacks. “So?” He spun in a circle. “How do I look?”

“Like you asked Uncle Dave for fashion advice,” you told him- if there was one thing you were in the Morgan household, it was honest.

“Okay, ouch.” Your dad brought his hand to his chest. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you said. “The slacks make you look old. Wear black jeans instead.”

Derek smiled. “Okay, well I’m gonna be late since I have to change again. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, dad. I-”

The door shut.

“Love you,” you whispered to yourself. You picked up the picture of your mom again, gazing into her fearless eyes. Oh, mom, you thought to yourself, or maybe you were praying to her. You really didn’t know which one. What am I going to do?

---

You rolled over and looked at the clock- unable to sleep. It was nearly midnight and you dad still wasn’t back yet. How long was dinner supposed to take? How had your dad forgotten about movie night? How had your dad forgotten to tell you he loved you? The questions spiraled in your head over and over again, anxiety building in your gut until you burst into tears.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be in your room, or the house, or anywhere that made you think about how your dad had forgotten about you. You were still in your clothes from the day, having been too upset to change into pajamas. Silently crying you ran down the stairs and out of the house- needing to get as far away from it as possible.

The logical part of your brain knew that this was the best possible way to get kidnapped- a young girl running down the street alone in the dark was the start to just about every horror movie ever. But the logical part of your brain wasn’t working. All you knew was that you had to run.

You were lost in your thoughts and high from the adrenaline that you lost track of where your legs had taken you. Your vision adjusted to the dark and you looked around. You were somewhere you had been before, but you weren’t sure exactly where. If it was light outside you might be able to pinpoint a landmark or a trail and find your way back, but the night was dense. All there was to do was walk.

Your head was starting to ache from crying and your legs were beginning to feel weary. The taste of copper filled your mouth from running in the coolness of the night. You needed a place to stay but you didn’t want to go home. In the distance you spotted street lights- they were dim but it was better than nothing. Maybe from there you could find a metro stop to take you closer to your Aunt Penny’s- surely she would let you stay with her for the night.

The closer you got to the lights the more you recognized your surroundings. The neighborhood was older, but still in a safe location. The houses were charming on the outside, with wrap-around porches and large grassy yards. You knew the place because Derek had bought a house here years ago, when it was just the two of you. It had always been part of his dream to restore a house like it so he insisted that he would wait for the perfect time to start the project.

Of course there was no such thing as perfect timing. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t touched the house in years. Most of his other restorations were bought and sold within months, but this one just sat. The only evidence that he owned the place at all was that he mowed the lawn every two weeks.

You walked up to the front door and pulled a bobby pin from your pocket, picking the old lock with ease and making your way inside. The house was bare of any furniture or decorations. Paint was flaking off the walls and old plastic covered the hardwood floors. You walked around the house, imagining what it would be like to see the place restored in all its glory- with new crown molding and fresh hardware on the doors. You imagined it with a fresh coat of paint and pictures on the walls.

But at the moment it looked abandoned, withered, and unloved- just like how you felt.

---

It was 1 AM when Derek got a call from an unknown number. The first time he let it go to voicemail, but when the same number called him two more times he had to pick it up. At first he thought it was a prank call- some kid trying to mess with him that one of his houses had been broken into by his own daughter- but when he got home and saw that you weren’t in your room he knew it was true.

He was sure that he broke every speed limit getting to the house, but he didn’t care. What was so wrong that you felt like you had to run away? What had happened and how had he not seen it?

Derek pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car, Savannah right behind him. His neighbor was standing in the driveway holding a flashlight, waiting for him to arrive.

“Thanks for calling,” Derek greeted the woman- she was a nice older lady. “I’m sorry if she bothered you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” the lady said. “I’ve raised three teenagers myself. I know how they are. She says she doesn’t want to talk to you, but deep down she really does.”

Derek sighed. “I appreciate that. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, please let me know.” The lady smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

Derek sighed heavily and turned to Savannah. “I’ll be back.”

Savannah rubbed his shoulder supportively. “You’re a great father, Derek.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go and making his way into the house.

It didn’t take him long to find you. You were curled up in a corner, legs pulled up to your chest with your face buried into your knees. You didn’t even look up when you heard his footsteps. He came closer, kneeling next to you so he was on your level, and reached out to touch your hair. At the contact, you quickly leaned away.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice full of concern. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Your words were sad with a slight venom behind them. “Just go away.”

Your dad sighed and sat down on the floor in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Suddenly, all the emotions from earlier came flooding back. You couldn’t help it- sobs racked your body as you pulled your limbs tighter towards your body. You kept your head down and your eyes shut tight, not wanting to even get a glimpse of your dad.

“You forgot movie night-” you managed to choke out between sobs. “You have Savannah now. You already forgot about mom and now you’re forgetting about me too.”

Derek felt his heart crack. He really had forgotten movie night- the one constant promise that your mom would always be a part of him and you. He took a deep breath and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered. He felt his eyes begin to water. “I did forget about movie night.” He pulled back to look at your face. You had grown up so much so fast. JJ was always telling him that if he looked away for too long he would miss it entirely and he almost had. “But that doesn’t mean I forgot about your mom and it sure doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about you. I know it’s hard to see me with someone who isn’t your mom- I get that- but Savannah isn’t replacing her. I will always love your mother and you will always be my baby girl. No matter what.”

The mention of the nickname he only ever used for you and your Aunt Penny brought the tiniest smile to your face. Derek pulled you into another hug.

“Can we go home now?” you asked quietly.

“Of course.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you to your feet, holding your hand as you walked out to the car. Savannah was standing there, a sympathetic look on her face. Your dad helped you into the back seat first before helping her into the front. You were so tired from the emotions and adrenaline that you fell asleep before the car even pulled out of the driveway.

---

Derek gently took your seatbelt off and pulled you out of the car in an effort not to wake you up. He was thankful that Savannah was there to lock the vehicle after him and open the front door so he could carry you up the stairs and towards your bedroom. If working out was good for nothing else but still being able to carry his baby girl at 15 years old, it was worth it.

“Derek,” Savannah whispered from behind him before he opened up your bedroom door. He turned to look at her. “Let her sleep in our room tonight. She’s your baby, but she isn’t going to be for much longer.”

Derek smiled softly and walked to the main bedroom, laying you down in the middle of the mattress. He looked down at your face, sleep softening your features. Changing quickly into his pajamas, he snuggled next to you, pulling your body closer to his. Savannah laid down on your other side, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the two of you together.

For the first time since your mom died, Derek felt whole- like the wound to his heart had healed over with a faint scar to remind him of what was, but allowing him to move forward.

“You know,” Derek said quietly. “I’ve let that house sit for a few years. It is kind of a dream project come true so I’ve been waiting for the right time to work on it.”

“Oh yeah?” Savannah whispered.

“Well it’s bigger than this place.” He ran a hand down your hair. “And there are more kids around (Y/N)’s age. The neighbors are nice and the school district is the same. It’s about 10 minutes closer to the hospital and Quantico.” Derek sighed. “I guess I was waiting for a time when the house could become a home.”

Savannah smiled sleepily. “You think you could make it a home?”

Derek’s smile grew. “I think we could make it a home. Together.” He still had his arms around you when he fell asleep that night and by the morning, Savannah’s arms would be around you too.

Soon there would be a restored house, with more dinners on the couch, nights you could spend with your friends when your dad and Savannah went out, a park nearby to walk in, and a large grassy yard to practice judo. But ultimately, it didn’t matter because the three of you would always see one another as home.

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