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lis-likes-fics · 2 days

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Love Letters

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: Murder, torture, depictions of mental illness, typical Criminal Minds content... A/N: Collabed with a couple friends about the serial killer. Guys, this was hard. Spent sooo much time building this character and then didn't even end up using all of the stuff we came up with. But it was fun and I enjoyed this and I hope you do too! Special thanks to the ones who helped me plan, @the-nerdy-goddess and @thecreature-bug and my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

A knock on your classroom door has you turning your head, and you smile at the sight of the math teacher one door down.

You know why she's here, sneaking a “meeting” before all the kids get here for homeroom. You roll your eyes, scooting back in your rolling chair and crossing your arms.

“So how was the date Saturday?” Esther asks, raising a teasing brow as she walks further into the room, taking a seat right on the side of your desk. “You get lucky?”

You scoff. “I wish. The guy was boring. It was a total snooze fest.” You pick up a paper from your grading stack, marking another consecutive one hundred on little Amelia's test. “I told him I was a teacher and he told me how he had a crush on his teacher from the eighth grade.”

“Blergh,” she groans, making a face. “Was he a gentleman, at least?”

“I wish, part two. He didn't pull a chair, he didn't open a door.”

She shakes her head in disappointment and pats your back. “Your gentleman is coming to you soon. You deserve it.” She reaches over, picking up your necklace and running her thumb over the F before dropping it back down. “And I like that necklace.”

You laugh sarcastically at her, jutting your chin out toward the mirroring E around her own neck. All the fifth grade teachers wear one, a gift from Sarah’s—the science teacher’s—birthday party. “I like yours.”

She brushes the golden charm on her dark chest with a smile. She scoots off your desk. “Hey, if you're looking for another date, I might have a guy.” She winks at you, and you almost throw a pencil at her.

“Don't you have a class to teach?”

“Eventually,” she shrugs. “Small accident a few blocks away, traffic’s backed up. Buses are late–”

“–and most of your class rides the bus.” You nod, “Yeah.”

She walks to the door, patting the frame twice. “But I'll leave you be. I have copies to print.”

You shoo her away. “Goodbye.”

She winks at you again, clicking her tongue. “See you.”

The elevator doors close as David steps in next to Aaron. After a quick once-over, he smiles. “You look tired. Jack?”

Aaron shakes his head as he glances at his shoes, “No. Jack's fine.”

“Oh,” Dave raises his brows. “Did Aaron Hotchner have a date?”

He chuckles, amused by the assumption. “Me?”

He shrugs. “Good to have a little hope.”

Another rare chuckle passes his lips as he shakes his head again. His voice is low and soft with his amusement. “Yeah, I had a date. With a wrench and a kitchen sink.”

He hums, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing the options. “A date is a date. At least you can fix the sink.”

“Alright,” he mumbles lightheartedly.

Dave pushes the doors open as they enter the round table room, watching as the rest of the team slowly makes their way. When everyone is present and accounted for, he begins.

“What have we got, Garcia?”

Penelope sets her coffee cup down, making a face. “Oh, my little ducklings, nothing good.” The screen turns on and presents a round of crime scene photos, multiple women covered in uniform cuts all matching the other perfectly, besides the differences in the letters adorning their chests. It's graphic and strange.

Garcia avoids looking with everything she has. “Some hikers at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia were going about their business when they found five perfectly marked graves lined up in a row.” The presses a button and said graves are shown before and after they were dug up. When Garcia says perfect, she means perfect. The graves are perfect rectangles, all the same size and depth and almost as though someone used a ruler to make sure the lines were straight.

“The bodies found were Madeline Johnsons, Beatrice Cabrera, Clara Warner, Dakota Platt,” one more press reveals a woman with dark skin now pale with death, “and our latest victim, Esther Cooke.”

The team flips through the files they were given, analyzing the information as it comes. “All were found covered in multiple incisions all over the body, and letters carved on their chests.” She makes a face. “I don't know how much you guys gate papercuts, but I know that if I got as many as our victims here, I'd be forever emotionally ruined.”

Reid's analytical eyes take in the sight of the bodies. “It's almost reminiscent of Lingchi, translated to ‘slow slicing’ or ‘death by a thousand cuts’. It was a form of torture and execution used in China around the 10th century until the early 20th century.” He talks a mile a minute, squinting his eyes at the photos as he does.

Prentiss shrugs, “Well, one papercut is bad enough, I could never do a thousand.”

JJ brings her drink to her lips. “I couldn't do ten.” They chuckle to each other.

Morgan juts his neck toward his files. “How did they die? The wounds are made for bloodletting.”

Garcia groans lightly. “So not glad you asked. Their throats were slashed, two incisions made at each side of the neck to cut the jugulars.” She adjusts her glasses, glancing at her tablet. “Autopsy reports say very slowly and with a very sharp knife. Like the unsub was trying very hard to keep steady. They also found traces of chemicals used in disinfectant in the wounds.”

Prentiss' brows knit together. “Why not just cut it clean across?”

“Well, look, there are 26 cuts in total on all the bodies, including the one at the neck,” Reid points out. “The incisions were very specific.”

“‘Course it was, look at that pattern,” Morgan says.

Each limb has a total of six equal cuts along the top of them, with the last two finishing off at the neck. It's too specific.

“All of the letters on their chests match the beginning of their names, except for Madeline. She has an A,” Garcia explains. “Madeline's family said she went by Addy.”

“Then the letters carved into them match the first letter of their names,” JJ says. “Maybe he's trying to go through the alphabet.”

“Matches the cuts,” Rossi shrugs. “There are 26 cuts, 26 letters of the alphabet.”

“Who died first and who was last?” Hotch asks, not looking up from his screen.

“They were killed and buried in alphabetical order, sir.”

A few members of the team nod, their theory supported. Reid clasps his hands. “Paired with the perfection of the graves, the specificity of the incisions, the disinfectant, we could be dealing with someone struggling with high level obsessive compulsive disorder.”

They agree.

“But how is he targeting his victims, other than by their names?” Prentiss wonders, “I mean, how does he figure out what their names are in the first place?”

Rossi sighs, “I guess that's what we have to find out.”

Hotch looks up at his team, his stern gaze glancing among them. “Based on the timeline of these kills, we hopefully have about a week before he strikes again. Let's not give him time. Wheels up in thirty.”

You look up at the gentle knock on your door interrupting your silent lunch break. You clear your throat, dropping your hand from your necklace as you lay eyes on Principal Luis.

“Hey,” she greets softly. “You doing okay?”

You nod, offering a half-hearted grin. You've had to smile at your kids all day today, despite the grief, and you were really depending on your break to wind down from it. “Considering.”

“You think you could talk? There are some FBI agents here with a few questions about Esther.”

You sniff, furrowing your brows. “FBI?” For you? You supposed that makes sense. You were close enough…

Two agents walk into the room, their professional blacks offset by the colorful parade that is your classroom. It looks strange, almost silly. You stand to greet them.

The woman offers a smile, a kind face to ease any worries you may have. The man is a little more stern, but there's a gentleness you admire hidden beneath.

“Hello, Ms. Hughes,” he greets. “I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau. We're with the FBI.”

“You can call me JJ,” she says as she reaches a hand out toward you. You take it. “We're here with a few questions about Esther Cooke.”

You try not to look too miserable.

Agent Hotchner’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. “The principal said you and Ms. Cooke were close?”

You nod, crossing your arms. The classrooms are always cold. It's felt a little colder lately.

“She worked right next door,” you try not to stutter. “We were the closest in our department. I'm holding conferences tomorrow with parents about taking some of her kids into my homeroom until we find a…a replacement.”

Noticing your disquiet, JJ speaks up. “Was there anything going on in Ms. Cooke’s life? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Thinking, you shake your head. “Not really.” You shrug, “It was school, home, and not much else. The occasional night out with me, we are–” you clear your throat, “we were both single.”

Agent Hotchner adds in, “We're there any strange absences or even a trip she was going on?”

Again, you think. But nothing really comes up until– “She mentioned that she went on this tour thing with her parents last weekend, local. Some sort of…hiking thing? It's usually for tourists but they won free tickets.” Then you back track, “Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?”

JJ glances at Agent Hotchner. You're not sure what that means. “It could be.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asks.

You shrug. “Monday…before she went home. She didn't show up Tuesday or Wednesday, I figured she just got sick or something…forgot to tell me.” You rub your cheek with your sleeve. “I thought it was weird ‘cause she didn't call in or anything. I had to request a sub for her.”

Agent Hotchner nods. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He dug in the inside pocket of his suit. “Call us if you have anything else. Here's my card.”

You reach out to take it, your fingers brushing. It was a comforting feeling. “Thank you.” The words are gentle as they leave you. You shake out of your slight daze, “Uh, here's mine if you have any other questions for me.”

You go behind your desk, grabbing a sticky note shaped like a koala and the first pen you see (which ends up being the brightest green marker you own)... The kids love the colors.

When Agent Hotchner takes it, he almost grins. You recognize the hidden amusement in some of the kids you teach. The ones that are harder to get to open up, even at this age. It's a little sad. Those kids happen to be some of the sweetest you know.

The sight of him in a sophisticated suit with all his professionalism, holding a cutesy koala sticky note is almost comical. He nods his thanks, and then turns to JJ.

They both begin to make their exit when you stop them. “Hey.” They turn. “Did anyone find her necklace?”

“Necklace?” JJ furrows her brow.

You nod. “All the fifth grade teachers have necklaces with our letters on them. Just like this.” You pick up the little charm around your neck for them to examine. “Except she had an E.” You let it drop, scratch the back of your neck as you hum. “Her parents said they never found it when they…”

The thought of saying “dug her up” out loud was haunting, and you already felt that shrinking feeling in your gut.

JJ redirects. “Would she normally take it off?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not Esther. She loves–” you sigh, annoyed now that you keep making the mistake of present tense. As an English teacher, it hurts more somehow. “She loved that necklace. We all do. We wear it nearly every day. Especially now.”

Agent Hotchner nods again, a really gentle movement that you honestly appreciate. “We'll keep an eye out,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod back at him, offering what smile you can. “Thanks.”

They leave and you check the time. You'd have to get your kids from lunch soon.

“Did she have anything?” Morgan wonders as Hotch and JJ return.

JJ’s teasing brows bounce. “Other than Hotch’s number? A bit.”

Rossi smirks, leaning across the table. “Did you find something special with our Ms. Hughes?” He puts emphasis on the title so Hotch is fully aware of her marital status.

“Let's focus, please.”

Hotch doesn't seem particularly annoyed, but there is a case at hand and he wants it solved as fast as possible.

Besides, it would be unprofessional to call her like this…asking her on a date after questioning her about her recently deceased.

The team giggles quietly amongst themselves. Children. But they do focus in as Morgan's phone rings as a signal to their resident oracle.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“I ran those credit card records like Hotch asked,” she starts. “All of which come up with very different results with no special link but one: three of the five all purchased hiking tickets for a guided trail a few days before they went missing. But they're very popular trails, tourists and families go all the time.”

“Hiking trail?”

“Is that significant?”

JJ looks around at the group. “Ms. Hughes said Esther Cooke’s parents won free tickets. They just went last weekend.”

“That would explain why it doesn't show up on the credit card records,” she says. The clack of her keyboard fills the space before she's speaking again. “Oh, yes, I see. The reservation is written in her mother's name.”

Reid looks up from the board where he worked on his geographical profile. “Clara loved out of state,” he says, “she was visiting. That could be how he found out about her.”

Rossi agrees. “So he's choosing most of his victims at the trail. Maybe he's a guide?”

JJ shrugs, “But how is he picking his victims?” She walks over to the pictures of all the victims hung up, their differences glaring as she shakes her head. “He's compulsive, he can't do it at random.”

“I don't think it is,” Hotch says. Eyes fall on him, urging clarification. “Ms. Hughes said something that stuck out to me. Esther Cooke always wore a necklace with the first letter of her name on it, but it was missing from the crime scene.”

The wheels turn in Reid’s head as he breaks away from his map. He picks up the crime scene photos, sorting through them to compare them to the headshots of the victims lining another board. “We might have something,” he mumbles. He picks up the first victim’s pictures. “Here, you can see Madeline wore a necklace with her nickname, Addy, on it. But at the burial site, it's missing.”

Prentiss catches on, picking another. A quick examination has her nodding along. “And look here. Clara had one, too. Hers is just a C.”

Rossi’s heavy brows furrow. “So you think he's targeting these women based on their necklaces?”

Reid words fly from his mouth as he speaks. “If he's killing them, burying them, and carving their letters all in alphabetical order, that could be his trigger—seeing the letters already in place and feeling the need to make it permanent, perfect.”

Morgan picks up Esther's picture, nodding. “We ready to give the profile?”

“I think so. Garcia,” her attention is lightning quick at the sound of her name, just like her wit, “get me a list of everyone who went on those trails and every guide who has led the ones our victims participated in.”

“That list is going to be longer than the Nile, but like Neith, I shall be victorious,” she declares.

Prentiss adds in. “Go ahead and narrow that down to white males who live in the area.”

“That helps.”

“Thank you, babygirl.”

“Happy to help, my salacious little snack.” She smacks the “ck”. He can hear the smirk in her voice. “I'll have that list in a jiffy.” Morgan chuckles as the call ends.

You plaster a grin on your face as you welcome in the next pair. It's been a long day already. The children have been a little fussy, others just sad, about the changes going on during class. The parents you've seen already have been awkward, annoyed, or (on the better occasion) nice, and you're ready to go home.

Just a few more meetings, then you can go home.

“Hello,” you greet. “Thank you for coming in.”

Ms. Tucker smiles gently, doing her best to be kind. She's one of the more patient parents. Her husband on the other hand… You've never been able to describe him as patient.

“Could we make this quick?” Mr. Tucker asks, checking his watch. He blinks harshly once, twice, three times, before looking back up at you. “I've got an appointment in an hour and…thirteen minutes.”

“Don't be rude, Larry,” his ex-wife insists, rolling her eyes as they take a seat in the chairs set in front of your desk. You sit as well, mentally bracing yourself for his meeting.

“Well, she's bringing us in here to tell us our kid isn't doing well in school. How do you want me to behave?” Another tight blink follows as he whispers under his breath, “Behave, behave.”

Ideally, these meetings should take no more than maybe five minutes. But parents make that difficult sometimes.

“Maybe if you spent more time with Peter, he wouldn't be having trouble,” she insists.

The animosity coming off the two of them is creating an environment that makes you want to kick them out of your room and do what you want. But you can't.

He scoffs. “Spend more ti–”

“Actually…”

They turn back to you then, remembering you're there as they close their mouths and listen. “We're not here to talk about his behavior. Peter has been wonderful in class.”

You grab Peter's file. It's just a stack of papers with Esther's old notes for him and his grades. You clear your throat quietly. “As you may know, the teacher next door to me just passed, and we are rearranging her classes until we can find a suitable replacement because we are short staffed.”

You hate saying “replacement”. These meetings have been hard enough simply because she's gone, but being the one of the people already working to replace her has been mentally taxing.

You pull your necklace from inside your shirt, sighing as you look up at them, toying with the charm.

You don't catch it. The movement is so slight and the whisper is so gentle that the moment goes completely over your head as Mr. Tucker's eyes lock on your charm. Under his breath falls a small, “F…F, F.”

“This conference was just to ask about whether or not it would be alright to transfer Peter into my class,” you continue, grasping the top pages out of the file. “Otherwise, his behavior has been fine. He's a smart boy with good grades. Ms. Cooke’s notes do say that he has a bit of trouble mixing with classes though, and he can be a little distracted. Another reason he would switch, he needs the extra social help.”

Ms. Tucker leans in slightly. “You said he has trouble mixing in?”

You nod, tilting your head as you remember Peter's behavior during your classes. “He's a little lonely.”

Mr. Tucker murmurs under his breath, holding onto the words. “Lonely.” His brows twitch. “Lonely…lonely.” You know they're tics, so you try not to make it obvious that you've caught it.

“He got along well with the teachers, but he's closed off to the other students. She saw that a couple of other kids picked on him, but they were little things that we were able to solve fairly quickly.” You sigh, thinking for a moment. You have to choose the right words, or this will end in an argument. “I would recommend trying to get him into things outside of school. A sport or a club, just something to get him to interact with more kids.”

Ms. Tucker is all ears as you speak, taking in what she can as she contemplates a solution. Her ex-husband seems a little out of focus, however. He watches you, his eyes taking you in, in a way that makes you uncomfortable.

“It also helps when the parents are on the same page,” you push through, ignoring the crawling in your skin and focusing on this child and his needs. “I realize you went through a divorce recently, which can be tough on your son. I know it's not my business to manage your relationship, but for the sake of your son, it's important not to be hostile in front of him. It could force him into thinking he has to choose a side, which can lead to negative effects on his mental health.”

She nods, soaking it in. “We can talk about it. You have our permission to take him in.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tucker nods. You watch his head dip three times. “Yes, yes.”

You sigh internally, glad the meeting is coming to a close. “Thank you,” you smile. “Did you have any questions for me?”

He replies, smiling as well. “No. Thank you.”

“Alright,” you close Peter's file, “then we should be good.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Tucker says. She reaches a hand out to shake your hand, and you take it. Her ex-husband does the same, though he lingers a little longer than you appreciate.

“Of course.”

They leave. You take a moment to breathe before you welcome in the next parents. And two meetings later, you've wrapped everything up. After clearing your desk, you snatch your things and head straight for the door.

You're happy to know it's not too late when you step out of the building. The sun is still up, but the moon is beginning to show with the coming evening. As you make your way to your car in the relatively lonely parking lot, it blinks when you unlock the doors.

You open the back door to throw your things inside, slamming it shut and opening the front in one movement.

You don't hear the footsteps behind you over the sound of your relief about the end of your day. So when something comes down hard at the back of your head, your pain and surprise is interrupted by the sudden darkness that overcomes you.

“You're on speaker.”

Garcia’s voice arises from Morgan's voice like the oracle she is. “Then I shall speak my prophecy for all to hear. I narrowed that list down significantly to the tour guides that lead the trails all of the victims went on—except the one who didn't. Speaking of, it turns out that our odd one out, Dakota Platt, put in an application to work as a guide but was denied. Anyway, I came up with three matches.”

Rossi hums. “Narrow the list to anyone recently going through a major change. A divorce, potential job loss, something like that.”

The sound of Garcia’s keyboard is heard over the phone, her voice coming a second later. “That takes one out. There's Perry Williams, he's just suffered a loss in the family—his mother died of lung cancer four months ago, around when the killings started. Then there's one other, Laurence Tucker, who just went through a divorce around a year ago. He's fighting a custody battle with his wife, started a couple weeks before the estimated time of the first murder.”

“Can you take a look at their medical histories?” Prentiss requests.

“Tucker has diagnosed OCD. He stopped taking his meds at the same time as the divorce.”

JJ is already on her feet as she slips her phone in her pocket. “That's our guy.” The rest of the team follow suit.

“I've just sent his home address to your phones.”

Hotch is packing his things as he speaks. “Garcia, go through his history. There may be something to suggest where he may be taking his victims to torture them. He can't be taking them home.”

Morgan raises the phone to his mouth. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

“Anything for you. Garcia out.”

“Clear.”

At the sound of the last check, Hotch lowers his gun as he sighs. “Hotch.” He looks over to see Reid peeking his head out of a room down the hall. He follows him, walking inside and following his gaze down to Reid’s hand, where he's holding a necklace he's pulled from a dark box on the dresser.

There are four necklaces neatly arranged within it, the fifth in Reid’s hand. An E for Esther.

His phone rings. “Yes, Garcia?”

She speaks quickly. “Our guy grew up in the area and attended a schoolhouse when he was little that was shut down years ago for unusual practices with the students. Reports found that the teachers there used to discipline ‘bad kids’—and by bad, I'm not talking just behavior, these are kids with diagnosed Autism, ADHD, OCD, the whole alphabet. Oh…maybe that wasn't the best word.”

“How were they disciplined?” Reid asks, pulling her back on track.

“Oh, right! The teachers used to slap hands with rulers and spank these children, sometimes with paddles. Sometimes kids would come home with big red letters drawn on their chests or clothes when they received failing grades as a way to shame them into passing.” She hums, “I'm guessing that's where the signature comes from.”

Reid sets the necklace down, “Is the building still up?”

“Like I said, it was shut down years ago. It was marked for demolition, but they never got around to it. The building still very much exists, and it's covered in wooden boards and caution tape.”

Hotch nods. “Send us the address. This could be where he's killing them.”

“Already done,” she says. “Also, fun fact. I learned that Tucker's son attends the school Esther Cooke taught at. Apparently, he was one of her students.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine as he thought about that. Scrambling in his jacket, he pulls out the koala sticky note in the inside pocket. “Garcia, I need you to give me another address.”

Reid’s brow furrows at his sudden haste. “What's wrong?”

“Ms. Hughes held conferences today for the parents of children Esther Cooke taught.”

Reid walks after him as Garcia retrieves the address. “So?”

“She wears an F.”

Your bleary eyes are so dazed and heavy. Mixed with the pain, it was hard to keep your head up and your eyes open. The letters lining the top of the walls, the alphabet which wraps around the room, fly around your head. It mixes with the chairs and desks, arranged so neatly around the room, lining the walls like the letters do. There's chalk and pencils and paper, all old and run down but set so neatly. The chaos and the tidiness is maddening.

It really hurts. Your arms and legs are covered in cuts, slow and methodical and painful. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, sweat sticks to your forehead and you feel heavy and sick. He'd removed your necklace. It's sitting on the desk where he keeps the rest of his supplies. You want it back.

His disorder is evident, and it bleeds over you with a glaring taunt. Every time he cuts you, he measures it with a ruler, and then you're thrown through the added torture of him disinfecting the wound each time. He counts it each time. He chants under his breath every time he cuts you, every time you talk, every time he blinks.

You just want to go home.

“Mr. Tucker, please,” you beg for the hundredth time, your plea falling on deaf ears.

He shakes his head, his ruler in the middle of your thigh. You want to move it. If he can't make a precise cut, he won't cut. But you don't have the strength. It's taking a lot to keep your head up.

“Hush,” he urges absentmindedly. “Hush, hush.” He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, careful not to use his hands.

“Why are you doing this?”

His attention is razor sharp as he measures. “I have to.”

It’s the most answer he's given you so far. Maybe if you just keep him talking, you'll be able to talk him out of it. You keep your voice gentle, trying not to sound as pained as you are. “Why?” you ask, though your voice wavers. “What did I do? What did Esther do?”

The name seems to spark something as he nods three times. “E, E, E.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this because of our necklaces?”

He shakes his head this time. Three times. “You won't understand.”

You sigh heavily. “Then help me understand.”

“You won't, you won't.” He picks up the knife, and you flinch away from him. “You won't.”

You keep trying. “You just have to talk to me,” you give him the best smile you can. “You can talk to me, Larry.” If you say his name, maybe you'll appeal to him. You can make it personal. You have to try something.

He mutters under his breath, as though he's thinking. “Talk, talk…talk.”

You nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. Just put the knife down, and we can talk.”

A scream tears through your throat as he drags the sharp blade across your thigh. It burns and it sears and tears stream down your cheeks at the feeling.

“19, 19, 19.”

You don't know what number he's going to, but you're scared for what he'll do when he finishes counting.

You struggle around the lump in your throat to speak, forcing out a breath to try and level yourself. “Is this about your OCD?” He glances up at you, but he doesn't give it too much thought. “I recognize it. Peter has early signs.”

“Peter,” he mumbles, finally taking pause to think. He hums and blinks.

“Yes, Peter,” you urge. “Your son. If you keep going, you could hurt him.” It's hard to see past your tears, but you keep going anyway. “When you get caught, and you will get caught, Peter will be taken away from you forever. He'd never forgive you.”

“Forgive me,” he huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his face. He grips his ruler in one hand. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He presses the ruler to the other leg, “Stop talking.”

You try to squirm, “Larry– Ah!” You purse your lips to stifle your shout, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists.

“20, 20, 20.”

A round of sobs rack through you. You can't hide the pain anymore. It's so evident, and it's so intense. You can't breathe. You hiss as the disinfectant stings.

“Please,” you cry. “Please, just tell me why.”

He shakes his head. He's upset now, you can see it in the crease of his brow, in the excessive head shakes, in the way he rubs his face so roughly. “They said I have to.”

“Who?”

“My teachers.” He looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the alphabet lining the walls.

You follow his gaze. The schoolhouse actually makes sense now. You thought he'd chosen it because it was abandoned…

“I can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet, alphabet.” He says it like he's reciting something, like he's punishing himself.

Your breath is heavy, you blink rapidly, trying to see past your tear-filled eyes. “Your teachers made you do this?”

God, sometimes you hate teachers.

He rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily. “A, A, A,” he begins, speaking quickly and almost like he's struggling to speak. It reminds you of memorization methods. Sometimes you suggest it to students who have trouble remembering vocab—write it down over and over until you remember. Maybe that's why he's doing it? “B, B, B. C, C, C. D, D, D. E, E, E. F.”

He opens his eyes and points his knife at you. “F. F.”

The fear flares within you again. You try not to turn to a blubbering mess. You can't communicate with him if you can't speak properly. “Is that what you're doing?”

He moves to your arm. You try to pull at the duct tape he's got wrapped securely around your hands. You've been trapped here so long, your hands are numb, your wrists are bruising.

“Have to get to Z, Z, Z.”

You almost shout it when he presses the ruler to your arm. “Listen, listen, listen!” you say it in a rush, so, so scared. He actually stops. “Okay, they said to say it three times, right? You have to write it three times?”

The number triggers his tic. “Three, Three, three.” It's honestly becoming annoying. It's insistent and repetitive and it feels almost invasive. But you have to be patient or he'll just kill you faster.

“You don't have to do this.” Your face is itchy from the tears drying and re-wetting, but you can't scratch. “You're gonna be okay.”

He's not listening anymore. “Behave,” he warns, holding the knife to your face. “Behave.” He shakes his head. “Behave.”

He's stopped listening. Despite your screams, he measures and cuts and cleans and measures and cuts and cleans, repeating each number as he comes to it with calculated method.

You clench your fists as the knife digs into your thigh again. You're surprised you can get your broken cries out as you struggle to breathe.

He stands up, taking large steps back to look at his work. You suppose he's almost done, and that terrifies you.

You think about your students, the little kids in your classroom who have already lost one teacher and are now going to lose a second. All those good kids are going through so much already. They all loved Esther. You know they all loved you. You have a wall of art, holiday cards, and plenty of hugged legs to show for it.

You don't want to lose them. You don't want them to lose you.

In a last ditch effort to dissuade him from his pursuits, you shake your head and sigh heavily. “Please.”

He comes closer to you, squinting his eyes to try to ease you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he says. “Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon, soon, soon.”

He presses the ruler to your neck, and you don't have the strength to fight it. It inspires more tears as you shake your head weakly. “Please, please, please.” You chant it, closing your eyes shut. You brace for the end…

Both of you jump when the loudest crash resonates within the room. Wood splinters and heavy boots stomp against the floor. Startled, he staggers back. You open your eyes, lights flashing as the room crowds with armoured people.

“Laurence Tucker, drop the knife.”

You know that voice. You recognize it. It's hard to see past the lights and the tears in your eyes. You know him.

“Can't! Can't. Can't, I have to finish. I have to finish. I have to finish.”

He's panicking. Too many things happening at once, everything out of order, everything out of control. He grips the knife tighter, looking between you and the cops in the room.

Someone else, their voice louder and less patient, shouts. “Drop the knife now!”

“Behave, behave. Behave!”

Someone else's voice, softer and somehow understanding, speaks. Though the voices are beginning to blur. “We know what your teachers did to you,” he bids. “We know how they hurt you.”

They hurt him.

He shakes his alphabet, losing it over the chaos. His frustration is palpable. Every time they speak, he gets more and more angry. “Can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet. I'm supposed to do the alphabet!”

“Larry,” you speak, your voice hoarse from overuse. You catch your breath, keeping your voice level. Like you're talking to one of your students. He's scared, he's angry. He needs patience. “Larry, look at me.”

You can practically feel the concern of the agents rolling off of them. They don't want you misspeaking and making him more upset than he already is.

But he looks at you, and he seems to respond to the softness because his furrowed brows shift very slightly, his anger turns to some semblance of fear.

Although it hurts, you try to smile. It's taking so much to lift your head, even more to get the words out without the heaviness of your rising fear and exhaustion.

“They were bad teachers.” He rubs his face, but you press on, speaking slowly. “They weren't supposed to hurt you. Teachers are supposed to help. They were wrong.”

He closes his eyes. “They were wrong,” he whispers, like he's trying to convince himself. “They were wrong, wrong.”

The desperation seeps in. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let them help you.”

“Help me,” he mutters, his voice as quiet as yours. “Help me, help me.”

The first voice, the one you know, he speaks again, patient but still an order. “Drop the knife, and we can help you.”

“Help me,” he whispers. Slowly, he moves as he contemplates the words. “Help me.” They raise their guns in alarm, but he keeps crouching until he's finally kneeling on the floor. He grips the knife. “Help me.”

“Just breathe, Larry,” you huff. The spark of adrenaline you'd gotten from your rescue is wearing off again. You feel like you might pass out. “It'll be okay,” you mutter. “It's going to be okay, it'll be okay.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. “Okay…okay,” he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor. “Okay.”

They make quick work of cuffing him, forcing his hands behind his back as the metal clinks against itself.

An agent immediately rushes to you, and you immediately recognize him, just as you had his voice. Agent Hotchner kneels before you, carefully removing the duct tape around your wrists and ankles. “Are you alright?” His voice is so soft and gentle. You lean into it as your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

“I think I'm gonna pass out.”

Your voice is scratchy when you speak. He looks you over, and his hand comes to press against your cheek. It's oddly intimate, though you know it's for comfort. You lean into the warmth. It's helping.

“No, you won't,” he says as he removes the tape wrapped around your middle. “I've got you.” He glances behind him, throwing his demand over his shoulder. “Get me a medic.”

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?”

You want to say yes, but you genuinely don't think so. You shake your head, “I don't know.”

“Do you want me to help you stand?”

You nod, the movement choppy. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. He wraps his arm under yours, lifting you slowly, carefully, like you're fragile and precious. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your words are sticky and slow. You genuinely think you're going to pass out. “You know my name.”

“Yes, I do.” He nods, and when you glance up at him, he's giving you the gentlest smile, and you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Can you make sure I have it right?”

You hum. “Fawn Hughes.”

You're so discombobulated that you don't even give him your birth name, instead the one granted to you since you were little.

“Fawn,” he mutters. “Is that your nickname?”

You nod, slowly, and hum.

“It's nice.”

The both of you make your way as he helps you hobble out of the schoolhouse and into the evening air, past golden hour where pinks and purples coat the sky. It goes a little faster when the medic finally arrives. They help you onto a stretcher, and Agent Hotchner apologizes every time you whine at the pain.

When you're settled, he gives you a gentle nod. You grab his hand before he can turn to leave, hoping he doesn't notice the way you wince and knowing he does. “Thank you,” you mutter.

He sighs gently. “Don't thank me.”

“Thank you,” you say again, a little more insistent this time. You swallow thickly, the falling adrenaline increasing the solemnity as your exhaustion begins to crash down on you in waves. You're surprised when you feel a tear slip down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline. You'd cried so much already, you weren't aware you still could. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come through, I'd be dead. So thank you.”

He looks down at you, nodding gently, the movement almost imperceptible. “You're welcome.” He glances at the medic, and then toward the ambulance waiting for you. “They'll take care of you.”

You didn't want to ask, but the need is too strong. You're so scared, and he's the only one here you truly trust. Besides the fact that he'd come to your rescue, you don't necessarily know why.

“Can you please stay?”

He thinks for a moment. Really, he should be here helping the rest of the team. But as he looks over, locking eyes with Rossi talking with Prentiss, he looks between the two of you and sends him a nod.

Agent Hotchner turns back to you and nods. “Yes.”

You want to thank him again, but you know he'll just tell you not to. As they load you into the ambulance, he holds your hand, and you lay back and answer the medics questions.

“Mom, I'm fine.”

You sigh, as your mother's worried voice rises from the other end of your phone. “You were kidnapped and tor—Shit!—tortured by a deranged serial killer. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you don't have to be. I'm okay. See?” You show her the bandages wrapped around your arms. “Patched up and healthy. Doctors say I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“We'll be there by then.”

“You don't have to come down.”

“Hush. We're coming down, and you can't stop us. I love you, and we'll see you in the morning.”

She hangs up before you can respond. You shake your head and sigh, setting your phone down. At least you know she was worried about you.

You glance up when you hear a knock at your door. “Come in.”

The door opens as Hotch steps inside. His face is gentle, though without a smile. You miss it in a way as you offer your own.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice just as soft.

You take in a breath. “Okay,” you say. “Considering.” You motion to your phone on the bedside table. “Got off the phone with my mom, she's…already on her way from out of state.”

He closes the door gently behind him, sitting on the chair beside your bed. “She's worried about you.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, glancing over at him. His eyes are on you. Your lip twitches, fighting a bigger smile. You clear your throat. “Doctor said I'll scar, but…the knife was so sharp and steady enough that they should scar fine… They're discharging me in the morning.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

Honestly, the quiet is nice. You look at him, at the features of his face, the softness mixed with his professionalism looks good on him.

“We retrieved this from the schoolhouse,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He hands you a necklace, your necklace. You smile gently, reaching out for it as he places it in your palm.

You're going to have trouble wearing it for a while, but it's nice to have it back. You look up at him thankfully.

“We also found this at Tucker's house.”

He hands you a second necklace. It's identical to your own, except this one has an E…for Esther.

You swallow the rising lump in your throat. Your smile aches as you breathe through the tears threatening to well in your eyes. You look up at him, your smile trembling as you hold back tears you've already shed. “Thank you.” He nods, smiling very briefly. “I'll, uh…I'll get it back to her family.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another comfortable silence falls over you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you think. Something's on his mind.

“What is it?” you mutter.

He contemplates for a moment before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to talk him down so well? You seemed so…calm.”

You look down at Esther's necklace, thinking for a moment as you shrug. You speak slowly, clearing your throat as you rub the thumb of your free hand along the white bandage on your forearm.

“He told me his teachers made him do it.” You close your eyes and take a steadying breath, the events of the night before too fresh to ignore. “That agent…said his teachers hurt him, so I treated it like an abusive parent situation. He just needed someone to be on his side.”

You hate that it had to be you, but at least you understand why he did what he did. You almost hate that you understand. “He was hurt as a kid. That kid needs to know he's not alone.”

Hotch thinks about that, nodding gently. “You're a wonderful teacher.”

His words are genuine. It warms you and puts you back at ease. “Thanks.” You smile at him, his little one reflecting back at you. “I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do with myself until they let me go back to my kids.”

A tiny chuckle escapes him. It's a good sound for him. “I think the children will be fine.” You chuckle as well, the sound of his laugh a contagious thing that you can't help.

He glances over his shoulder, out of the open blinds of your room to see Rossi standing in the hall. Hotch’s smile simmers down as they make eye contact. He nods, standing to his feet with a sigh.

“I have to go,” he says, almost regretfully. “Get well soon.”

You turn your palm up as it rests in your lap, wanting to reach for him but not wanting to seem desperate. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Ms. Hughes.”

After a moment, Hotch turns toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. “Agent Hotchner?” you call timidly, your heart thumping in your chest and your palms clammy. He pauses on his way to the door, turning back to you with a gentle look.

You clear your throat, dipping your head and trying not to seem as nervous as you feel. You almost died. If that didn't tell you how short life is, you don't know what will. Asking wouldn't hurt.

“I know you're probably busy and all, but…” you lick your bottom lip, summoning the courage to look him in the eyes as you smile nervously. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” You think for a moment, “I'll stop thanking you so much if you do.”

Since meeting this man, the smile he gives you is the largest you've seen on him. It summons your own beaming grin as he looks at you with cheeks you swear are tinted pink. He chuckles gently, taking a couple slow steps to you as he nods. “I would love to.” All the weight of your worries lift from your shoulders with a sigh. “Please, call me Aaron.”

Your cheeks warm at his gentle affection. You have to clear your throat to speak. “Okay, Aaron,” you say. “But only if you call me Fawn.”

Another tiny chuckle comes out of him. “Where did Fawn come from?”

It’s a genuine question, an innocent curiosity you're happy to sate. “I used to be obsessed with deer as a kid. The nickname stuck,” you say with a shrug. “Some people think it's stupid, though. You can call me by my–”

His interruption isn't rude. In fact, you have to fight the urge to hide your face away as he says next, “I'm looking forward to that dinner, Fawn.”

You smile. “I'll hold you to that.”

Aaron gives you one last smile, saying a soft goodbye as he leaves the room to join Rossi, who gives him the biggest smirk he's ever witnessed.

As David opens his mouth to say something, Aaron stops him immediately with a raised hand and an annoyed grin on his face. “Don't.”

David raises his hands in defense, walking silently next to Aaron to join the team.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner whump #whump fic

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calxide · 3 days

Text

⸻ SLEEPLESS NiGHTS 💤

kazuha x gn!reader | 500+ words ; no pronouns used for the reader. i, literally, cannot sleep so i wrote this fic pls help. written in lowercase. not proofread pls just let me sleep already. words: milk, punch are mentioned. sleeping tgt. god when will i have this. just pure fluff, some brainrot, and definitely no sleep for me.

“i can't sleep.”

it's past two in the morning, yet here you are, standing in front of a dazed, closed-eyed kazuha — a plushie in your arms, blanket on your shoulders, and an oversized pajama.

kazuha tried his best to force his eyes open. but he fails, so he just sends you a smile.

“come in.” kazuha almost hit his head on the doorframe when he turned around to make way for you to get in.

you plopped yourself comfortably on his sofa. “sorry, i had a terrible sleeping schedule last week. now, i can't get it out of my system.”

you've been pulling all-nighters last week because of the hell-stack of schoolworks you had to do, and now, you couldn't bring yourself to sleep, so you decided it's best to show up at your best friend's door at 2 am since you live in the same building anyway.

kazuha chuckled and went to the kitchen. “milk?”

“sure… i'll take anything to make me pass out.”

“a punch then?” he joked.

“why not?”

a few minutes later, he comes back with two glasses of milk in his hands. “here you go, sleepyhead.”

“you're the sleepy one here, dummy.”

“fake it til you make it, they say,” he joked and took a sip from his glass.

as soon as you both finished drinking, kazuha offered to bring it in the sink. after a while, he came back with a blanket enough to fit you two in—enough to cover the sofa you were sitting on.

you raised an eyebrow as if asking what's his plan for the night. kazuha simply shrugged, sat beside you again and covered you.

the blanket was fluffy. it was warm to be under the blanket, and even warmer with kazuha by your side.

you noticed him drifting off. kazuha has been a victim of your sleepless nights for quite awhile now, but he doesn't seem to mind. sometimes he'd ask you to tell him stories so your problems would come off your chest, sometimes he'd be the one to tell tales for you to fall asleep.

but tonight, kazuha's clearly tired, he's completely dozing off. his head was hanging and you're worried he might actually fall off the sofa.

“you can sleep on my shoulder, you know,” you whispered your offer. “or like, just lay your head on the sofa.”

without thinking much, kazuha immediately made himself comfortable using your shoulder as his pillow. you wondered if he had forgotten you were the one who he was supposed to help fall asleep.

although, you don't really mind. sometimes, it's not bad to lend a shoulder to a friend, literally.

you and kazuha just stayed like that for who knows how long — it was quiet, the comforting kind, with the only source of noise coming from the air-conditioner.

you examined his peaceful sleeping face. kazuha looked beautiful as he always does.

you smiled as you felt your heart flutter. ah, silly thoughts.

“good night, kazu,” you mumbled.

you planted a kiss on kazuha's hair, then laid your head on top of his. yawning, you finally felt the melatonin kicking in. and so, you drifted off to dreamland.

kazuha shifted his position a bit and smiled as if he was dreaming. “sweet dreams, y/n.”

NOTE hello hahahahaha 5 months in in 2024 and im back just because my eyebags are insanely bad and i havent had an 8-hour sleep since god knows when (exaggerated but u get my point) plzzz wait for me school is almost done. thanks hope i can fall asleep now... p.s. i havent written anything for so long now so i apologize...

#kazuha x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #✍ー rein writes

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exhaslo · 5 hours

Note

Helloo! Can i request about moth reader and yandere miguel?.. I really appreciate all your writing! I hope you had a good day!

Tbh I'm not sure if you actually mean "moth" or if you meant "goth" but you know what...

Why not both? Haha, I think I have an interesting idea for it.

Warning: Possessiveness, experimentation, fluff, mentions of sex, manipulation

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was NOT how your experiment was supposed to go.

This was NOT how you expected your life to turn out.

This was NOT how you wanted Miguel O'Hara to see you.

You had always been the oddball at your job. Most told you that it was rare to find such a 'creature' like yourself. It was always frustrating to explain to those ingrates that you were just expressing yourself the way as many did during the Great Hero Age.

You were a proud goth. Not many committed to this life style anymore as they focused more on the future. Hell, you had spent a good amount of money trying to find old CDs and Vinyl's from back in the day. There were many things that had disappeared within the last hundred years.

All you wanted to do was bring back an old culture to the year 2099!

The only person who did not mind your lifestyle was one of your regulars...

Miguel O'Hara

The man was the definition of fine. He was tall, hot and oh so perfect. He had wanted to get to know you at your little coffee shop and quickly became your regular.

Miguel was understanding. He enjoyed listening to you talk and even took your suggestions. You knew someone as perfect as him would not join in your lifestyle, but you were just happy that he bothered to give you the time to explain.

However...

How would Miguel react to you now?

You were desperate for money, so you decided to take an offer from Alchemax-the biggest company in the city...If not, the world. The only problem was that you didn't expect for the turnout. This was not what you were expecting at all!

It felt like a nightmare! You felt different already compared to your futurist coworkers, but now...to your fellow humans? Alchemax turned you into a freak! Who would bother to look at you now? What were you going to do now?!

"Ah, my dear (Y/N), how beautiful,"

---------

From the moment he laid eyes on you, Miguel knew that you were special. Call it fate, but Miguel just knew that you were meant to belong to him.

Miguel knew that he had to control himself. He didn't want to scare you after all. So, he started by stopping by your work. Bringing up small chat, getting to know you. Loving everything about you. Loving to find out new things about you.

When you weren't working, Miguel would follow you home as Spider-Man. He needed to protect you. Such a fragile human like yourself knew not of how to protect themselves. You were a target for people to pick on.

And who better to protect you than Miguel?

Miguel made sure that no man got near you. Every guy who even dared smile or tried to flirt with you disappeared. Everyone who dared give you a hard time, Miguel made sure they were taught a lesson.

The more Miguel got to know you, the more he became obsessed with you. You were perfect for him. His lovely little doll. Miguel made a special room for you in his place. Put everything you would like and even started to take some of your stuff.

This room was going to be yours very soon. That bed would be where Miguel will show you his love. Where you will conceive his child and become his wife. Your body and soul will belong to him.

Miguel knew you were short for cash. He knew that no one wanted to help a freak like you. It was a shame. Only Miguel knew how wonderful and kind you were. How amazing your lifestyle was and how this world was too naïve to embrace you.

So, Miguel thought of a plan. He watched as you accepted the offer from Alchemax and went to get your blood done. It made Miguel shudder as he watched you undress for the doctor, wanting to make sure that you were healthy for the test.

That body was only for Miguel to see, but he will let this slide since it was a woman doctor.

Once the experiment began, Miguel watched from the sidelines. He waited for his moment to swoop in and change the procedure. Why? Because Miguel was going to give you a reason to stay with him.

"What have you done?!" You cried out, sobbing at your new form.

The doctors and scientists panicked and fled to find some information and excuse for what went wrong. While Miguel stood in awe at your beautiful new form.

Your DNA was now mixed with that of a moth. You had large gorgeous wings and your hair had streaks of white. You were crotched down on the floor, sobbing as you tried to cover yourself from the bright lights.

"Ah, my dear (Y/N), how beautiful," Miguel couldn't help but say cheerfully as he approached you, "Don't cry (Y/N), it's going to be okay."

"M-Miguel? W-What are you doing here?" You sobbed quietly, covering your eyes, "I-It's so bright...I'm getting dizzy."

"Shh, I know. I know,"

Miguel was careful with your wings as he wrapped his arms around you. Your warmth was comforting. Your scent, better than he could ever imagine. Who better than to love you now than him?

"I know you're confused, but come with me. I'll take care of you."

---------

Miguel was true to his word. You had followed the man whom you had a crush on, scared for your new form. Miguel gently explained what happened, saying that it was an error on the scientists he watched over. Since it was under his watch, Miguel claimed to take responsibility for you.

You wanted to find it strange that Miguel already had a room for you, but you were too stressed to care. Your mind was all over the place and your body felt strange. The room was dark and cool. Much to your liking.

"(Y/N), I brought you some food." Miguel called out.

As he entered, he held up a small lantern, to which you felt drawn too. You pressed yourself against Miguel, wanting to reach for the light, but Miguel chuckled and brought you back to the bed. His hand stroked your cheek, placing the food on your dresser,

"You are so cute, (Y/N)," Miguel whispered, kissing your head. You hummed lowly,

"Why...are you so kind to me?"

"Ah," Miguel chuckled lowly as he held your hand, "Because I love you. We were meant for each other."

That sounded nice. Honestly, who would love you now as you were? Hell, who would even want anything to do with you now? You were part moth. At least now your gothic lifestyle matched your new look. Hell, it made your wings pop out more.

"Miguel...I...I um, I like you too."

-------

Yes.

YES!

Miguel could hardly control his laughter as you fell into the palm of his hand. Of course you loved him. You had no one else to turn too. No one else to help you.

Miguel made sure to keep you believing that you needed him. From helping you figure out your powers, to fucking you senselessly during the night and day.

Miguel gave you everything you wanted.

Just as long as you behaved and listen to everything he did and said. Miguel smiled as you approached him in the living room, showing off the new gothic attire he had bought for you. Doing a little spin, Miguel groaned softly as you let your wings spread.

"So beautiful." He hummed. You smiled, sitting on his lap,

"Miguel...could we go out? I want to fly for a bit," You begged.

Miguel just smiled as you waited for his response. You knew of his secret and made sure to not do anything he wouldn't like.

"Of course, baby, but I have to give you a good reminder on what to do and what not to do,"

You just nodded, smiling as Miguel pressed you against the couch. Your back to him as your wings were on full display. Miguel groaned softly as he held your waist, ready to give you some good reminders about going outside.

After all...

You were Miguel's.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Def unique and different, so I hope you enjoyed!!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you

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marnikula · 3 days

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you would be able to write a post about a Derek x reader where Derek is in the hospital after getting shot and the reader is just so distraught and bursts into his room, but plot twist, no one knows that they are in a relationship except for Garcia, who let the reader know, and they are all so confused.

Also, I imagined it as a female reader, so if you are comfortable, could you do that?

Hey! Sure, I can do that for you😊

Not my best work, sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy none the less

CW: Injury, female reader, mentions of gun shot, hurt / comfort, talks of deatb

✨Enjoy!✨

You have never felt your heart drop so quickly and so violently into your shoes before that moment. "He just went into surgery, I don't know how long it's going to take for him to come out, I called as soon as I could."

Derek was shot. He was in surgery. He was shot. Shot. He could be dying. He could be dead.

Shooting out of your seat you grabbed a bag and flung all of your necessities in it, letting Garcia know you were on the way before hanging up the phone. He was in California, 6 hours away by plane and you hadn't even bought tickets yet, you didn't have anywhere to stay. You knew you were being rash rushing to the other side of the country without a plan, but you didn't care. The love of your life was on an operating table and you weren't there.

Hailing a taxi to the airport you finally took the time to book a flight, thanking whatever higher power there was for the fact that the soonest flight out was in less than an hour and praying that you would be able to make it.

===============================

Rushing into the hospital, your bag still in hand, you ran up to the front desk.

"I'm looking for Derek Morgan's room, he was shot, can you tell me where he is" even to your own ears your voice sounded frantic, like you were hanging on by a thread. And to be honest you were, you just needed to know that Derek was okay. "What is your relation to the patient?" "I'm his girlfriend"

After getting his room number from the nurse you practically flew up the stairs, not having the patience to wait for an elevator. Seeing his room you moved even faster, breaking into a sprint and almost knocking a tall and lanky man over in the process. Shouting your apologies behind you, you were met with a door, slowing down just in time to not run against it.

You were in such a flurry of relief seeing Derek alive and awake that you didn't even register the rest of the people in the room as you rushed in, dropping your bag at the door and enveloping him in a hug. His good arm reached around you and hugged you back as tightly as he could muster, which was still pretty tight considering he had just woke up from anesthesia.

Kissing the top of your head Derek spoke the first word between the two of you: "Hey princess, what are you doing here?" You shoved yourself out of his embrace, still sitting on the bed and letting the agitation you felt show on your features

"What am I doing here?! Seriously? You got shot and went into emergency surgery and you're asking me what am I doing here?!" "Whoah baby, calm down, I'm fine, doctors said I'll make a full recovery, no lasting damage except for some scarring" your reply followed, with a smack against his good shoulder as well "Don't you ever, and I mean *EVER* do that to me again, do you understand?! I was so scared that I would loose you" "Baby, I'm so sorry that I scared you, but I'm fine now, and I promise to try my best not to get shot again. It ain't exactly fun you know. Now do I get a kiss or what?"

A loud clearing of a voice broke the two of you out of your little world. "Are we perhaps interrupting something?"

"Rossi, man, I respect you and all, but please, get your and everyone else's asses out of my room so I can spend some time with my girl"

#dr spencer reid #derek morgan fluff #bau #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #Morgan #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #Marnikula #Not my best work #But hey #What can you do?#Also why do commas end the hashtag? I want punctuation gosh dang it

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piratejoongie · 1 day

Text

All Mine

🍒 Hii, this little or maybe not so little story is my first ever so I hope you enjoy it.

🍒 tw: sexual content, kidnapping, swearing, violence...

🍒 Pirate Hongjoong x reader

🍒 smut hehe with a bit of fluff, because aftercare is important

🍒 word count: 🤷🏻‍♀️ (a lot, i guess)

Where it all began:

It was when my mom was pregnant with me when a deal was struck between my parents and parents of later very known, vicious and merciless pirate Kim Hongjoong. It has been agreed that I will have to marry Hongjoong when I turn 22, because my family's fortune with his would make one very powerful and united family that would be unstoppable. Little did his parents know how their plan would be ruined, or was it?

As soon as that deal was struck, mu parents went to the king and queen to ask for their help.

"My king, we need your help!"

"Ah, lord Tang, long time no see. Tell me, what seems to be the problem?"

"We were forced to make a deal with pirates, the Kim's specifically, that our daughter Y/N has to marry their son Hongjoong when she turns 22."

"Well, that's unfortunate, lord Tang. What is it that you want of me? I can't declare a war out of thin air."

"We would never ask that of you, your majesties. We hoped that, as soon as Y/N is born, she can live with you as a fake princess and hopefully be safe from Kim's. "

"Lord Tang, that's quite an idea... and a dangerous one if HE figures out."

"I know that's a lot to ask of you, my king... but we just want our daughter to be safe and to never have to witness what horrible things those pirates do."

"Very well, lord Tang. As soon as your daughter is born, she will live here as our 'daughter', learn to be a proper royal and if successful, maybe even inherit the throne. She'll be a better fit than any of my cousins and their bastard children."

"Thank you, my king. I owe you my life for doing this."

"Careful, lord Tang, you might just have to do that if they find her."

"Yes, my king."

Even though my parents had a good plan, and everything went smoothly, eventually, something had to go wrong.

Now:

The day has come, my 28th birthday and my coronation. The day when I finally become queen of this country came, the king Jun was proud and so was his wife, Laeya, or should I say, my parents. However, my real parents were in the crowd, watching me, with tears in their eyes and hope that nothing would go wrong.

The coronation went smoothly, and so did the majority of the night, but then all of a sudden, pirates came barging in through the main doors... and it was everything my parents feared... the blood... the screams... people panicking... but I couldn't move, I couldn't run... I knew I had to face them, and I knew I was ready... or so, I thought.

Then he came in the throne room. His presence, his aura... it was very powerful and magnetic, something was pulling me towards him, and I didn't know what it was.

One thing I was sure of... this man is Captain Kim Hongjoong, of the Nightbringer pirates. The cruelest, the most vicious and merciless pirates of them all... and he was here to get me.

"Hello, my queen", he said bowing to me, showing respect. Good for him. "They hid you well from me. I hoped to meet you 6 years ago, and make you my beloved wife, but as you see, I had some misfortune coming my way. I had my most precious treasure stolen from me, I was searching all of the seven seas for you, and as I was about to raid this hideous castle, I have find you. My precious ruby."

Ruby, a nickname I thought I'd never hear again... but here we are.

"Captain, you must me mistaken. I was never promised to anyone."

"My queen, isn't your real name Y/N Tang? Isn't your father one of most respected lords, lord Marcellus Tang and his beautiful wife, Maria Jelena Tang, former princess of Russia. You're their only daughter and, of course, my soon to be wife." he said, and I gulped.

How did he know all of this? Where did he get it from?

I needed answers, and I needed them soon.

"Mother! Father! What is he talking about?" I asked angrily, and they explained everything to me. I was furious, I didn't know what to think, how to act... do I go with them? Do I put up a fight? So I tried being rational and parley.

"Captain, I'm flattered, but unfortunately, I will not be going with you. I have a duty towards this country, this land and all people who live here."

He laughed. He fucking laughed.

"You're in no position to bargain with me,'princess'. You will be a good little princess and come with me. Otherwise, you can say goodbye to everyone because all that will be left of this land is corpses and bloodshed", this prick... "You have a choice pretty, come with me in peace, and I'll let them all live, or you can decline me and see everyone die, so you'll be forced to go with me."

"I pick nothing. You're in no position to bargain with a queen, pirate and you and your small crew are outnumbered."

He doesn't say anything. He just walks up to me, lifts up my head with his finger, looks me in the eyes, and like a feather, he throws me over his shoulders. To my surprise, no one was harmed, and I was taken to his ship, with no one coming after me. His ship, The Illusion, was beautiful and modern, I was stunned. He took me to his cabin and locked me inside. Then, the long one week journey to his kingdom began.

On the ship:

The seconds. The minutes. The hours.

They were passing slowly, but at least I had my fun pissing Hongjoong off. He hated it but I loved it. Serves him right for literally kidnapping me.

Suddenly, I hear the door unlocking... it must me him.

"Rise and shine, Ruby. We are close to my kingdom, and here, you'll be a proper queen. I must admit, giving you up to the royals was a bit over the top, but at least you have the manners and the brains now."

"That's more brains than you'll ever have Hongjoong. " I smiled to myself, good one. He makes me think of comeback so easily, whatever he says, I can just snap it back at him. But the patience this man has, its unbelievable.

"Now now baby, haven't they taught you manners and respect, or are you just a brat in general?" As he was saying that, he gets close to my face, looking me deeply in the eyes, and as always, I get turned on... but I can't let him know that, if I did, he'd have complete power over me and he'll use it well. "I asked you something, 'princess'."

"I just respect people who show respect to me first. That's how it is and how I was taught." I said.

"Hmm, or you just like pissing me off, hoping to get a reaction out of me, but also finding my composure and presence rather magnetic." Shit... how did he know? "Princess, you were bound to be mine, and I will, make you mine." Well, now is not a good time to be horny and wishing he would rail me on his desk. "Be ready in 10, we're close to the main land. And wear something nice, you need to look presentable to my people." He leaves, and with that I go through the dresses I have, and find the sluttiest, dark red dress that hugs my curves well. I can hear, and feel the ship slowing down, which can mean one thing... time to get out.

"Y/N, time to go." I hear Seonghwa, Hongjoong's first man and his most trusted member of the crew, and the sweetest, if I may add. I check myself once more, and I head out. The crew kept whistling, cat-calling 6 it made me feel powerful until Hongjoong turned around and his eyes went dark. Oh, oh. I needed to play this off as cool as possible, which I did. He hasn't said anything to me on our way to his castle, and I didn't mind because San and Wooyoung were keeping me entertained.

Over the next few months, I kept pissing Hongjoong off, talking to San and Wooyoung, who became my friends here and occasionally to Seonghwa. The majority of days here, I spent with the crew, whereas Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen... and to be honest, it had me worried. I stood up and decided to go to his room. Not a brightest idea so far.

His room was across the hall from mine, with big black doors and skulls decorating it. To some, it may seem intimidating, but to me, it has always been normal. I came inside, the room was empty, but it was big, spacious, and it had nice big windows that made the room brighter. I was busy admiring the room and haven't heard footsteps behind me.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out with the crew doing something?" He asked, leaning onto the doorframe. Damn he looked hot. His messy red hair was shining from one sunray that hit it, his dark eyes looking at me curiously, and his lips... those juicy pink lips were formed into a smirk. "Do you like what you see, Ruby?" He asked, slowly moving forward and closing the door behind him.

"Not really, I've seen better." I snap.

"Oh really, so I don't have any effect on you? You don't feel turned on by me? You don't fantasize about me? You don't imagine me pleasuring you until you scream when you finger yourself at night? You don't imagine how my tongue would tease your sensitive clit, how I would eat you out like a starved man, as if you were the last meal I could have, how I would such on those nice tits of yours and make you cum? You don't think about how my cock would fill you up like a skut you are and stretch you so good, you will only need my cock and noone else's? You want to say that you never, not even once, wanted me to fuck you senseless over my desk, make you scream my name so my whole crew can hear how good of a slut you're being for me, your captain. Tell me, Ruby."

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything I wanted to do because of him, and the effect he had on me.

With one swift movement, he put his hand around my waist and turned me around so my back was pressed against the door. He started kissing my neck, moving his way slowly to my jaw and then kissing my lips. His kisses were intoxicating, and through them, he made sure you knew that he was in charge. There's no doubt that he was good at it, he knew very well what he was doing.

"My precious Ruby, tell me, what do you want." He said seductively, as if he didn't know what I wanted. "Captain, I want you."

"Very well darling." He kissed me again, then stopped, looked at me and just tore my shirt apart. I was stunned. He on the other hand was amused, taking my boobs in his hands, massaging them, and then kissing and teasing my nipples. I squirm and pull his red, ruby hair, making him whine a little. While sucking on my nipples, he quickly disposed my skirt and underwear, kissing his way down on me. Making me shiver, getting wetter and wetter with every kiss he made down my stomach... but he stops... and gets on his knees in front of me, putting my leg on his shoulder so he can have better access. Slowly, he licks my folds, tasting all of my juices and making his way up to my clit. His tongue glides over my clit, goes in circles around it, making me moan loudly. He starts sucking and nibbling on my clit, sending shivers down my spine and making me quiver. Eating me out like a starved man, he speeds up a little and adds a finger inside me, matching the speed of his finger and his tongue. The feeling was sensational, no one made me feel like that. He adds another finger, making me moan from being stretched out. "Look at you, being a good little slut for your captain. Are you gonna cum for me slut? Are you gonna make a mess all over my face and fingers?" He asks, still sucking on my clit but more roughly this time and fingering me faster. "Aye, captain. I'll be a good slut and cum on your face." I moan, and the pleasure keeps growing. I grab a handful on his hair in my hand and pull his face closer to my folds, closing my thighs as my orgasm approaches and squishing his face between them, which he doesn't seem to mind... instead he picked up a pace. "Oh...I-... too much..."

"What's that slut? Don't tell me you can't take it?"

"I- I'm gonna c-..."

Before I could finish, I squirt all over his face, making a huge mess and wetting his clothes.

"Get on the bed slut. On all fours. Head down. Ass up."

I obey.

Before I knew it, he was undressed and stood between my legs, carefully watching my juices leaking out of me from previous orgasm.

"You look so pretty spread out for me like this."

"Only for you captain." I purr.

"Good, now you'll take my cock like a good little slut, won't you?"

"Yes captain."

Without any warning, he slams his dick in me, stretching me well and making me full. Each thrust is better than the other, making my legs weak and shaking. He fucks me roughly, penetrating me sweet spot and making me a moaning mess. He picks up his pace again, thrusting hard and deep touching my cervix with a tip of his dick.

"Fuck baby, if you keep clenching around me like that, I'm going to cum and fill that tight cunt of yours with my cum. Would you like that, slut? Would you like being breed by me and have my baby in your belly?" I nod.

"Words, slut. Use your words. I want to hear you say it."

"Ah- yes- I want you to breed me, captain. I wanna be filled with your cum and have your baby in my belly." I scream, and I hear him chuckle as he keeps thrusting. I can feel him twitching inside me, ready to cum. His thrusts become shorter but deeper.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum in that pretty cunt of yours. Cum with me."

As he came in me, he kept fucking his cum back inside me hence it was leaking out. I kept rolling my eyes into the sensation.

"On your knees slut. You need to clean the mess you've made on my cock."

I get down on my knees, in front of his beautiful long dick that still hasn't gone soft. I start pumping it with my hands, sucking on his balls, kissing them and moving up to his tip, sliding it in my mouth, slowly taking it whole.

"That's it, slut. Let me fuck that bratty mouth of yours."

With that, he grabbed a handful of my hair, moving his hips and fucking my mouth. I grab his thighs for support and scratch them because he was too much. He slides out of mouth, letting me breathe for a second before sliding himself back into my mouth, thrusting roughly, and sliding out again. Confused, I see him sit on his bed, tapping on his lap, signalling me to come up to him, and ride him. I slide down his cock with ease, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out once again. I kept bouncing on his dick, feeling euphoric and having Hongjoong sucking on my boots while his thumb was circling around my clit. I couldn't take it anymore, it was too much.

"You gonna cum again slut? C'mon, make a mess on my cock and I'll fill you up once more." I don't know how or why, his words have a huge effect on me. Hearing him saying that and moan, made me ride him harder and faster, urging me to cum.

"Ah- Hon- Hongjoong " I scream, and as I was about to collapse on him, he flipped us over, putting me in missionary and filling me up once again, making me feel warm inside. He never let his cum drip out of me, so he kept fucking it back in, releasing once more and kissing me. God, I loved every second of it.

"You good princess? Not too sore? Can you walk? Do you need anything? Food? Water? Shower? Just tell me, princess, anything you need."

"Some food would be nice, and a shower... and, if we can cuddle after?" I asked, hoping he'll agree.

"Anyhing for my Ruby. You're the queen of my heart after all."

Who knew a pirate such as Hongjoong would have a soft side, or was he only showing that side to you. Nevertheless, you loved it, and even though you were forced to come here, maybe it's better than the life your parents would choose for you. And there's one thing Hongjoong will never admit, but he always knew where you were, how you were and he watched you growing up. You might not remember it now, but he'll tell you what you two met when you were 7, walking along the beach alone and bumping into him. You called him ruby, because of his red hair and he never told you his real name because he didn't want to scare you, instead he admired you and told himself that he'll find you again and protect you with all he has.

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enh4doll · 2 days

Text

LET ME LOVE YOU

Sunghoon was your beloved boyfriend, you loved him more than anything, and he was everything to you.

He was also your first everything, your first kiss, first boyfriend, and soon, future husband.

When you came back from work, you were welcomed by a few candles set on the entrance table.

"Baby..?" You call out, and see your boyfriend pop out of nowhere, a big smile on his face.

"Hi my love, how was your day ?" He asks, helping you take off your jacket just like the caring boy he is.

You sigh, and shrug. "Well.. tiring as usual.. you know how it is." You simply reply, before feeling his lips quickly on your cheek, and then already gone.

"Come here, I have plans for us tonight to make you forget about all this stress." He whispers into your ear, before pulling away and taking your hand, leading you into the already prepared dining table.

"Hoon.. you did all this ?" You ask, pouting at his sweet gesture.

"Only for you, my love." He smiles, before making you sit on the chair, and serving you everything he had prepared for you both.

….After dinner….

"Thank you for the food, baby." You smile, tummy full and satisfied.

"You’re so welcome my love." He replies, before getting up and going to the sink, you also get up.

"Let me.. you already did everything else, that’s the least I can do." You say, as he shakes his head and turns around.

"No baby.. go to the living room, I’ll join you when I’m done." He insists, turning you around in the direction of the living room.

You sigh and make your way to the couch, and sit on it, smiling as you see more candles all over the place, you could tell that the night wasn’t over, but you didn’t know what was next, and certainly you didn’t expect what was next.

….a few minutes later….

You see Sunghoon walk back to you, a small smile on his face, you tilt your head.

"Why so happy tonight ?" You ask, and look up at him when he approaches you.

"Nothing.." he giggles, before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

You kiss him back, as he cups your cheeks, and pull you up, you pull apart, as you maintain eye contact for a bit.

"Sunghoon.." you hum, knowing he had a thought behind his mind, and you needed to know what it was.

"Follow me, baby." He says, holding your hand again, and leading you to your bedroom, he opened the room and revealed your room, it was filled with more candles, some pink rose petals all over the floor, and led lights, the light was dim, yet extra romantic.

"Sunghoon.." you say again, this time, your voice was emotional, almost tearing up.

"Do you like it..?" He asks softly, hugging you from behind.

"It’s perfect, I love it so much.." you say, turning around to hug him properly, as you kiss his neck softly.

"I just wanted to make you feel loved, I know you’ve been extra busy these times with work, and I thought making you dinner and doing this would help you slightly.." he says softly, his hand on your lower back, and holds you closer.

"I love you Sunghoon.." you whisper, before pulling away, and pecking his lips, he then kisses you again, deeper this time.

The kiss goes on for a while, tongues dancing together as he pushes you on the plush bed, you giggle, as he smiles at your cute reaction, trying hard to not show how hard her currently was.

"Sunghoon… i-" you try to speak but you were too embarrassed to admit it.

"What is it, my love" he speaks softly, making you blush uncontrollably. You looked away as he softly grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

"Fine.. I’m kind of… well- uhh.." you pause, realising how ridiculous you probably looked. "Well.. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and maybe.. I’m ready.” You finally say, gulping.

Sunghoon’s eyes widen, but he is quick to reassure you. “Baby.. don’t be embarrassed about it… it’s natural, and plus, I was kind of hoping you’d tell me this tonight..”

"i- really ?" You say quietly, as he kisses you again, lips parted, now a bit harsher, his breathing wasn’t as steady as before, and his hands started roaming all over your body.

"Let me love you, baby." He whispers, as he starts by pulling his shirt down, tossing it to the other side of the room, as he waits for your yes, to undress you as well.

You nod, as he starts to take off your shirt aswell, soon he leaves wet kisses all over your chest, going to your bra. "You’re so sexy." He says, looking up at you.

You bite your lip and smile, you feel him go further down, leaving sensual kisses until he reaches your panties, he pulls them down, revealing your wet core.

You blush from embarrassment, feeling fully revealed to someone for the first time. “You’re already so wet, so cute.” He says, as he kisses your clit, smiling when you squirm.

You hold onto the sheets, your legs automatically closing but he was quick to spread them again, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs. “No baby, let them open.” He whispers.

You decided to behave well and let him pleasure you, since it was your first time, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, he noticed that and looked up at you, his face still in your cunt. “Hold my hand.” He says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

as he starts to flick his tongue on your sensitive bud, you let out a soft moan, making him feel proud to give you pleasure, he started eating you out, enjoying the taste of your wet core.

Soon, he looked up at you, making sure you were alright, before he rubbed his middle finger along your folds. “This might feel strange.” He says, as he pushes one finger in, you stirred in discomfort.

He starts pumping his finger in and out, as you let out soft moans, this get better than you had expected.

After stretching you out properly with 3 fingers, he pulled them out, and kissed all the way up to your neck. “Are you ready ?” He asks quietly, ready to push his pants down and make love to you.

You nod, looking into his dark eyes, he smiles at you, and takes off his pants, along with his boxers, and your eyes widened at his size, he was big, bigger than you had expected.

You look up at him, and gulp. “It won’t-” you start but he cut you off. “Of course it will fit, don’t worry.” He reassured you, kissing your cheek. “Unless you want to stop..” he says, as you shake your head. “No no.. I want you.” You say, making him nod, and smile, his cute fangs poking out when he smiled at you.

He aligned himself at your entrance, looking at you one last time, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable or that you wanted to stop, you give him a nod, and he nods back, pushing in.

You winced a little at the sting, he wasn’t fully in, since he didn’t want to hurt you. He maintained his position, fighting the urge to move, you were so tight, and it felt so good.

After a few minutes of torture for him, you nod, finally feeling confident for him to move. He sighed, finally.

He pushes into you a little more, you were really really tight and for him, it was like entering heaven, so tight, so warm.

“You okay ?” He asks softly, kissing your cheek softly, the fact that even here, he cared about how you felt, that’s how you knew he was the right one, the guy you wanted to keep forever.

You nod at his question, as he pushed a bit further in, you started to feel pleasure, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it was so, so good.

He noticed your soft moans, and he slightly pulled out, to then push in again, not going deeper than before, he wanted to take his time with you, making sure that your first time would be as gentle as possible.

You look at him, and smile. “You can go deeper if you want..” you whisper, as he shakes his head. “Next time, I don’t think you can take it deeper right now.” He whispers back, he wasn’t even halfway in, and you already felt full. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him closer, taking in his body scent, the smell you loved so much.

“I’m going to move a bit faster, is that okay ?” He asks softly, as you nod. You look up at him, your eyes locked with his as he started pounding a bit faster, this only making you want him more, it was crazy how you were feeling right now, your whole body was giving into his, and it felt absolutely magical.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting at the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped so perfectly around him, he was trying his best not to loose control, but he knew he had to be gentle, at least for your first time, and he knew that for the next time, he would be able to explore more of his fantasies.

“Fuck… baby.” He says, his hands shaking, trying so hard not to pound the shit out of you. You felt him holding back and you felt guilty for not being able to bring him enough pleasure.

“Don’t hold back.. please.” You say, looking at him, he lets out a shaky sigh. “If I don’t hold back, I’ll hurt you… and I don’t want your first time to be remembered as something unpleasant.” He says, as he stops moving, you smile at his worries.

“How about we switch positions, so I can go as deep and fast as I’m comfortable with.” You suggest, as he hesitates. “I don’t know… maybe you could hurt yourself or feel uncomfortable, and then-” he says, as he starts to overthink but you stop him by kissing him.

“Fine… let me lay down then.” He says, as he pulls out slowly, and lays down where you were laying.

He helps you on top of him, as you sat on top of his pelvis, looking at him. “Don’t go down too fast.” He says, as you do as he says, but you wanted him deeper, so you moved down until you couldn’t take any more of him, he was almost all the way in. “Fuck.. baby you shouldn’t have…” he groans.

You giggle as you start moving up and down, he instinctively gripped your hips, helping you ride him. “Feels so good..” you whimper, you could feel him twitch inside you, he felt incredible, he made you feel so good. “I’m so close..” you breath out, feeling your stomach tighten, he pounds into you slightly, helping you to finally reach your first orgasm.

There it was, the feeling everyone was talking about, and they were right, it felt really good, this was the best feeling you have ever experienced.

Sunghoon looks at you, seeing you in pure bliss, and it only drove him closer, until he couldn’t take it anymore and he felt an urge to cum, he pulled out of you, as he came hard on his stomach.

He groaned, still holding onto you, you look at him, and kiss him. “You did so well, so fucking well baby.” He praises you.

—˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

HI EVERYONE, first smut I wrote for this account, I hope everyone liked it, I will be writing more like these, let me know who I should do next !!

Also thank you so much for the support, can’t believe I hit 1K+ in just a month, so so grateful for you all ♥︎

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon

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raayllum · 2 days

Text

i'm gonna break down the poster later but for now I wanna talk about the poem

As others have noticed the first letter of each line, read bottom to top, spell out "The Red Wedding" which is likely the episode title, so I'm not going to speculate too much on that.

Like we know at this point hardly anything is accidental in TDP especially when there's blatant opportunities to hide clues, so with that in mind, I want to look at stanza by stanza to the best of my ability.

Gnash your teeth, O Dragon Fierce! Night’s not far away

"Gnash" is an aggressive reference to teeth, which makes me think of "ivory draconic" for the Nova Blade, but also of scenes yet explained (the arc 1 intro of human warriors gathered on one side of the border, and Thunder's display of power). However, I think it's likely that what the poem is referring to is even farther back in history, given that "night" might refer to a time period (i.e. the stars leaving) happening soon.

In the sky that watchful eye Does weep and stare and pierce

"White as the star's heart it pierced" and we see eyes in reference to dragons' ire against Elarion. That said, this "watchful eye" could belong to a long ago Startouch elf (Aaravos, Laurelion, Leola?) who cared about what was happening, hence being 'watchful.' Pierce has a less peaceful connotation, but this section of the poem definitely reads as "in the past to me" (I say, preparing to eat my words in the future)

Dance away, O Golden Queen! Eternal fiery flame While shadows jeer into your ear Don’t forge a blade from shame

This, meanwhile, feels like a pretty straightforward reference to Janai in present day. She is both queen and the Golden Knight of Lux Aurea. Dancing is a part of Sunfire proposals, she has fire powers, and she's planning a wedding. "Shadows" could be references to her nightmares from Aaravos and the shadow monster creatures Karim's army is probably going to accidentally turn into thanks to Pharos' lingering corruption. She wields a Sunforge blade, of course, and has doubt/shame surrounding her choices and status as queen as it moves back and forth... so maybe "don't make a harsh choice out of shame/fear of unworthiness?" But we shall have to see.

Now onto what's probably my favourite stanza:

Eight in a line, O Chosen Mine! Ready for a war Endlessly burning Hopefully yearning That love will triumph once more!

"Eight in a line" makes me lose my mind because there's 8 pieces across the board in chess (2 rooks, 2 knights, 2 bishops make 6, + 1 king and queen make 8; as well as 8 pawns, of course). "O Chosen Mine" also makes it sound like Aaravos is the speaker of the poem, which given that he's someone poetry has been written about up until now, is deliciously meta.

"Ready for a war" might apply most straightforwardly to the Sunfire elves, but I don't think we even have eight named Sunfire characters in show, so it must encompass more main players. Perhaps unrest in the Pentarchy, and of course, the Dragang taking steps to try to go to war against and defeat Aaravos.

"Endlessly burning" has a couple different meanings, given that 1) fire cannot burn forever, 2) it seems humans were gifted sun magic first way back when, and 3) fire/burning has a more positive association with light. "Hopefully yearning" has a positive connotation, even if people on both sides can have hope for various reasons ("There is one weird hope" from Claudia in 4x01 vs Ezran's "There is a hope" in 3x03, etc). To yearn for something is to have "a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily" and we know that wishes and wants are something that can go from good to bad in TDP's world, especially when it comes to Aaravos.

The characters are hoping/working/wishing that "Love will triumph once more," the way it did for them in 3x09. This reflects back into love > control, narrative of love > narrative of power, etc. It also caps off this stanza of "eight in the line" having the game motif, and then triumphing also indicates winning the game.

But, of course, they can't. Not in S6, anyway. 😈

#tdp #tdp meta #the dragon prince #6x07 #s6 spoilers #arc 2 #s6 speculation #predictions #analysis series #analysis #tdp spoilers

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flowergirlzz · 2 days

Text

✿ switching roles nsfw 18+ this is my first work! I hope you all enjoy ✿ let me know if you like it and want more (not proofread sorry if there are any mistakes!)

"can I try something" you ask quietly, shyly, before lifting your head from its favourite resting place: your boyfriends muscular chest. you were met with the sight of simon, relaxed. a rare sight to say the least.

his eyes closed, the usual crease between his eyebrows nowhere to be seen and you would almost mistake him for being sound asleep if it wasn't for the feeling of his big hand caressing your back. up and down, back and forth, in circles and shapes, always just as gently.

"what" simon muttered, his harsh deep voice a big contrast to the soft, gentle touch of his hands on your back. sometimes you wonder how such a rugged man, who has looked death right in the eye more times than someone like you could ever imagine, more times than he'd ever let you know, could treat you with such care and always attend to your wants and needs. keeping you safe, keeping you sound, keeping you happy. simon was never mean or rough to you... except for in the bedroom where his dominating personality shined through. which leads you to your next question.

"something neeew" you continue and drag out your words, knowing you'd have to present this particular idea to him as sweetly as you possibly could to get him to even consider it. your hand that had rested on his chest up until now moved up to his jaw, slowly caressing it. simon kept his eyes closed and let out a huff, letting you know to further explain what you were on about.

"I thought maybe you'd let me take control for once" just as the words leave your mouth simons eyes open, immediately being met by your own soft ones filled with anticipation and hope. "no" he says firmly after a couple seconds of silence. "why not" you start questioning him immediately "it'll be fun". simon just glares back at you and you'd think your idea would have to stay just that, an idea, if you missed the way his eyebrows raised a little, his curiosity shining through. maybe he wasn't so opposed to the idea of letting you take control as you initially thought he would be...

you continue by lowering your head to his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his pulse point "I´ll take care of you simon, like you always take care of me" you press another kiss to his neck "I promise". simon lets out a strained breath and his hand comes up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you back up to look at him. you can already see the familiar look on his face, a look you've seen many, many times before. simon wants to devour you.

but you've got other plans for tonight. as soon as you feel simons grasp on the back of your head loosen, you shift so that you're on top of him, both tights on either side of him, your clothed heat on his hardening cock. you lean forward so that your forehead is against his "please simon" you whisper, lips ghosting over his as you wait for his answer. what you don't know is that simon already knows what the answer is going to be. he knew the second you asked.

like every single time you asked him for something. it was yes.

"you know I can never say no to you" he says with a light smirk and captures your lips on his own, kissing you softly, giving you permission to use him, like he usually uses you. you smile against his lips happy with your accomplishment, before deepening the kiss and rolling your hips against his. in response to this simon grabs your hips, holding them in his strong grip while pushing his own hips up against you, an action that usually makes you melt. but this time you pull away from him, from his lips "none of that" you say while smiling down at him sweetly and simon swears you are nothing but trouble.

"you´re going to let me do whatever I want tonight, at my pace, right si?" his grip on your hips loosens, his hands now just ghosting over them. "right sweetheart" he says and at that you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties. simon lets out a groan at the sight of your naked chest which makes you gain a new sense of confidence, grinding down harder on him now, hips moving back and forth as you start rubbing your tits, playing with a nipple between your fingers. "you like that?" you ask breathily, his now hard cock rubbing against your still clothed clit making you feel some type of way. "yes" he nods "you're beautiful..always so beautiful for me"

"I just-" he stops. "I want to be inside of you. now. fuck you until you see stars" is what he wants to say. what he settles with is: "more"

hm? you want more baby?" you tease having way to fun seeing your usually dominant, strong, cold man under you. frustrated for you. simon only nods which makes you lift your brows "you have to use your words si". he gulps, closing his eyes and parting his lips. god knows you're the only woman he'd ever act like this for. the word weak is not something that even exists in simons dictionary. not something he'd ever identify with let alone show it to others. but that is exactly what he is for you.

weak

"want more, please love" you know he means it, can see it in his eyes, his look that tells you nothing less than that you're some kind of godess made for him and him only. "so good for me" you say as you lift your hips of off him, looking down at the outlines of his big cock straining his sweatpants, moaning at the sight you grab the hem of said sweatpants before slowly pulling them down, freeing his cock. "fuck si, so hard for me". simon bucks his hips upwards, trying to create some friction but is quickly stopped by your hand on his pelvis. "patience...you´re doing so good for me baby" you say and grab his cock in your hand. he moans at the contact, loves the way your hand feels on him. your pure touch, soft skin, making him feel like he's worth something.

"angels touch" he'd sometimes joke and you'd roll your eyes at him, telling him to shut up. he meant it with every cell of his body.

you jerk him off the way he likes it, the way you've made him cum countless times before. simon wants to touch you, rougher, harder and starts to move his hand up your stomach while you continue to staple his thighs, jerking him off. he grabs your tits before finally reaching his destination. your neck. although not rough nor hard his hand sits just below your neck, not being able to resist showing some kind of dominance. typical simon. instead of stopping, you find his eyes, giving him a wide smile. yet another idea has popped into your head.

"think I´ll have to do something about these wandering hands of yours" oh yes. you love this.

you let go of his cock which results in simon groaning and muttering something about "just fuck me already". you giggle and get of off him and of the bed entirely, reaching for something in the closet. "I will si.. I´ll fuck you real good" pulling out a scarf you make your way over to him again, smirking "when the time for that comes" before you straddle him again you take your soaking panties off, leaving them on the floor.

"god woman, you'll be the death of me" simon groans again. his desperation for you, your pussy, showing more and more. his eyes are a bit glossy, his cheeks pink and when you tell him to put his arms above his head. he obeys.

you trail little kisses over his shoulder, bicep, forearm, wrist. and start tying them together.

"you have t-"

"I can do it" you cut him off while you struggle to tie his wrist together. once you're satisfied with your work you lean back to inspect it. you both know simon would be more than capable of breaking free of the little knot you were able to create, but chooses not to. in some kind of twisted, weird way, that is simons way of showing you how devoted he is to you, how much he trusts you. he's letting you have your fun, experimenting. and he´d lie if he said he didn't enjoy it too.

finally you positioned yourself over his now throbbing cock. taking it in your hand and lowering yourself over it, stopping just at your entrance. "you feel that si?, feel how wet I am for you" you moan and rub the tip of his cock all over your soaking cunt. "put it in sweetheart..I need it" simon almost whimpers and looks at you through his lashes. you give in to him and sink down on his tip, both of you moaning at the feeling. him at the feeling of your tight cunt and you at the feeling of being stretched out. you close your eyes for a moment before slowly starting to move up and down.

up, almost letting his cock slip out of you

down, never going further down past the tip

"more" he lets out with his eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of you wrapped around him, like you were made for him. he swears you were. "a little more, s´good baby" you moan at his words and slip down a bit more, still moving up and down slowly. your eyes suddenly open at the feeling of simons hips bucking upwards, making more of his cock slid into you.

"simon" you whine and look down at him. his eyes still closed, chest heaving up and down and you swear you can feel his cock twitch inside of you.

you pull yourself up, letting his tip sit at your entrance once again and a feeling of emptiness hits you as you now clench around nothing. "you were doing so good baby" he says. "feel so good wrapped around me". you feel yourself growing frustrated..he´s not supposed to be praising you tonight, letting you know you're doing a good job. "shh si, let me do this" you shush him, trying to compose yourself.

you've always fallen apart on simons cock. whether it would be sex on a lazy morning, a quickie in the shower, the make up after a big argument or when he got home from deployment. simons cock, simons praise..

was something that always made you melt. no exceptions.

simon could sense this, knows you better than you know yourself at times. smirking, he once again slowly bucked his hips, his tip pushing inside of you.

"si" you breathe out, feeling yourself losing control. damn you simon, you think, always finding a way to be in control. so you do the first thing that comes to your mind. you get off of him completely.

"you´re not being good..don´t think you deserve my pussy right now" you state softly, pulling on his strings, getting on his nerves.

"get back on" he gruffs, his piercing stare sending shivers down your spine. there´s no denying you do love his dominant nature, his huge frame, strong build, big fat cock-

"untie me now" he continues and you do nothing but smile at him, caressing his thigh. "I said now. or I´ll do it myself...you´ve had your fun" simon has let you had your fun, so you lean forward and kiss the side of his mouth "since you asked so nicely" your sarcasm could be spotted a mile away, egging simon on even further. his hard breath fans your face and just as you lean up and slowly start to untie him, he breaks free himself. a deep groan leaves his throat as he jumps on top of you quicker than you could even react.

a laugh escapes you as you tug on his hair and spread your legs for him. "so sweet for me si" you giggle as he devours your throat, kissing, sucking and biting down on your sensitive skin. one of his hands finding their way down to your cunt, pushing one finger in, getting ready to absolutely destroy you.

removing his lips from your neck and positioning himself so that he is looking down at you, he smirks, knowing that this is how he´ll always end up having you, under his control.

"oh you don't even know what you've gotten yourself into sweetheart" he says softly. almost too softly and you smile up at him, knowing you're in for a long night.

#simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader

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television-overload · 17 hours

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 15/34 - nature/nurture

[Read on AO3]

Krista is a lovely young woman. In her second year at Georgetown, with plans to get a Master's and a PhD after her undergraduate studies, having a child really isn't in the cards right now, nor would she be able to financially sustain the situation in a few years time.

It turns out, the previous couple she'd selected ended up getting pregnant themselves and had to back out, which was just an added stressor for Krista who was trying to focus on her studies, knowing finals season would be approaching sooner than later.

Mulder and Scully are more than willing to step in, and by all accounts, their meeting with her went… well.

Really well, honestly.

Scully had bonded with her over their shared Alma Mater, and even happened to have taken the same introductory physics class as her with an ancient professor who is somehow still teaching after all these years.

Mulder, on the other hand, shares her interest in sports. It seems Krista had been quite the track and field athlete in her high school years, and also won State as the pitcher for her varsity softball team her senior year.

They left the meeting feeling beyond hopeful, something they were unaccustomed to but were slowly beginning to come to terms with, finally.

“I think she really liked us, Scully!” Mulder says, glancing at her excitedly from the driver's seat of the car on their way home. “Can you imagine? If this works out, in less than six months, we'll be parents!”

“It's a scary thought, isn't it?” Scully asks, unable to suppress her own smile.

Scary, and about a million other things, Mulder thinks.

“The good kind of scary,” he says decidedly, and he delights when she nods in agreement, setting aside her skepticism for a moment.

“Yes.”

The drive back to their apartment goes quickly. The place near campus where they'd met up for lunch isn't far from her building at all, and if it had been a little warmer out, they might have even walked. Mulder puts the car in park and circles the vehicle, holding out his hand for Scully after she closes the passenger door, and her hand slides easily into his.

This is something they do now—holding hands. At some point in this process, the occasional gesture of comfort had turned to a casual, almost everyday thing, and Mulder isn't going to complain.

Maybe it was the need to keep up appearances as a married couple that made them do it. After all, in certain areas of their lives now, it's expected. With the adoption agency, with the birth mother… Their relationship, while close, is not one that fits into the mold of the wider public. It's easier to express it in this way for the benefit of others, rather than their usual way of showing affection.

On the other hand, maybe something between them really had shifted. He wouldn't soon forget how Scully had leaned on him, both literally and figuratively, after Pfaster. A year ago, he's not sure she would have trusted him like that, and in hindsight, she was right not to. He hadn't yet earned her trust back, and he'd regret ever breaking it in the first place for the rest of his life.

But she trusts him now. She lets him hold her and care for her and believe in her—believe for her—like he's always tried to do.

He will always consider standing by her side to be one of his greatest accomplishments in life. More than anything he has gained from his time on the X-Files, he has gained a friend. Someone who truly understands him.

He doesn't know what he could have done to deserve her.

Maybe he will always battle these feelings of unworthiness, thinking he could never be enough for her, but it's far too late for him to let go now. Losing her would end him. It's why he had been hesitant to accept her proposal to try IVF in the first place. Every curveball life throws at him is just another thing that could potentially rip their relationship apart. He tries his best to keep those “surprises” to a minimum, but every so often, the opportunity presented is too good to pass up.

Sometimes, he has found, it's worth the risk.

He hopes it will be, in this case. They're so close to achieving what she—they— have longed for for so long, but there's still room for error.

The best he can do is keep moving forward. Stay the course, and pray for fair seas up ahead.

He thinks her father might appreciate his sailing analogy, but then again, he probably would have hated him regardless of his use of sea-based figurative language.

In the hallway, an older woman smiles at the two of them, and Mulder forces a polite smile back at her. He knows what her neighbors must think. They've seen him around for years, and he's even met a few of them in passing. But now he lives here, and his name is even on her mailbox next to hers. There's not much he could say to dissuade their gossiping at this point.

Scully opens the door, turning on a few lights as they shed their coats and put them away. The adrenaline that had fueled them before in what was possibly the most important meeting of their lives has left them exhausted, and he happily follows Scully toward the couch in the living room.

A lazy day is just what they need. Things are out of their hands now. After weeks—months —of preparation, they have done all they can. Now, all there is to do is wait.

It's almost routine, at this point, when they share a couch. Scully curls up under a blanket, her head against a throw pillow, while Mulder fishes the TV remote out of whatever crevice he inevitably left it in last time. He has to move her feet a little to sit down, but as soon as he's situated, he lets her rest them up against his leg.

She's somehow always freezing, but he doesn't mind.

He sets a Knicks game on the screen at a low volume and leans back, his head lolling against the backrest.

There’s something about staring at the swirling patterns on the ceiling that lends itself to deep contemplation. The muffled sound of the TV does too, but maybe that's just a him thing. He closes his eyes, thinking through the day's events. Thinking of the future.

“I feel for anyone in her position,” he says, the thought escaping him and breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen. He can sense Scully is still awake though, so he continues. “It can't be easy to give up your own child, especially when the circumstances are out of your hands. But, in this case…”

He's thought of this a lot, lately. About how one person's misfortune may well be another’s salvation. It's a hard dichotomy to grasp.

“Well, it's a good thing for us, anyway,” he finishes, placing a hand over Scully's ankle. “We might actually get a chance to do this.”

“I hope so,” she murmurs into her pillow.

He opens his eyes, glancing down at her in her restful state.

“We will. I have a good feeling,” he says with all the confidence he can muster. It feels odd, this hope, but it's as real and true to him as the love he carries for his partner. “Wow, it's been a while since I've said those words.”

She breathes out an amused chuckle, curling further into the cushions before she responds.

“For once, I'm inclined to believe you.”

His lips curl in a smile and he playfully tickles her foot.

“I've never been so happy to hear you say that, Scully.”

He knows he should let her sleep, but there are just too many thoughts running through his head that he can't restrain himself. There's a whole world of possibilities about to open up for them. It's exciting and terrifying all at once, and she knows he’s a compulsive talker in those kinds of situations.

He's thankful that she hasn't grown tired of him already and moved to her bedroom to take a nap instead. If they were really husband and wife, that wouldn't stop him. He'd still be able to talk her ear off all night long if he wanted, or until she kicked him out on the couch.

“I can tell you want to say something,” Scully says knowingly, smirking up at him out the corner of her eye.

She knows him so well.

“You think I could coach little league?” he asks, speaking his thoughts aloud. “I mean, I know the kid’s still like the size of a banana, but in a few years’ time—”

“I think that's a great idea.” She turns slightly, adjusting her position so she can see his face properly, and the ridiculousness of his own question causes his cheeks to redden. But Scully takes him seriously. She always does. That's what makes her different from everybody else.

“We have a lot in common with her, you know,” he says, his fingertips massaging unconsciously into her lower calves. “With Krista. Brainy and athletic, all rolled into one. It'll be like having our own little über Mulder-Scully.”

“Don't make me start a nature versus nurture argument with you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I'm a psychologist, Scully. I could make a pretty strong case either way.”

She smiles, shaking her head in what he likes to think can be called fond annoyance. They fall silent, eyes locked in a gaze so heavy that he starts to feel a little drunk. The way she mesmerizes him might be worthy of opening an X-File someday. Just to investigate.

“We might have just met our baby, Mulder. Isn't that crazy?” she says, shifting the conversation suddenly in a more serious direction. There's awe in her voice, and he feels it too. “To have been within five feet of this person we'll know and love for the rest of our lives?”

It isn't like Scully to be so optimistic. She's always lived her life believing that to speak your deepest desires aloud is to make yourself vulnerable. Part of him is surprised that she's not being more cautious now with getting her hopes up, but seeing her this way?

He likes it. He likes it a lot.

Maybe he's finally rubbing off on her.

Her arm pops out of her blanket and she reaches for him, drawn to him like a magnet. He happily entwines his fingers with hers, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.

“I can't wait, Scully.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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arrolyn1114 · 2 days

Text

Next update for "Why Can't You See What You're Doin' To Me?" Coming soon!

Hey y'all!! First off, I'm so sorry this next update took so long but my life has gotten crazy busy these past few months. This next upload though is actually going to be 2 chapters because as I was writing I realized it was better divided up, you'll see why. Hopefully that will make up for the fact that it's been since like February I think since my last update.

The reason my life has gotten so busy is at the end of July when my lease is up I will be moving in with my other half so I've been consumed with moving related duties. After this next update I may not get the next chapter up until after I am moved and settled. I really appreciate your patience in advance and I love all of my readers, you guys are the best! ❤

I just have to do my final proofread of these 2 chapters and then I hope to have them up on AO3 by the end of this week if not sooner.

Also, as we approach the end of the courtroom battle I plan to wrap this story up and start a brand new document for Elvis and Jane's adventures afterwards. Seems like the best plan to do a whole new story after that point. I can't wait for him to enjoy his world tour and everything else he should have had in real life.

I did some updates to the tag list which is under the cut. I hope I got everyone who wishes to be on it but as always, if any changes are needed please do let me know. Sometimes user tags on here work, sometimes they don't cause Tumblr can be buggy at times which is why I highly recommend subscribing or bookmarking on AO3.

Thanks all!!

@thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @vintageshanny,

@from-memphis-with-love, @xanatenshi, @peskybedtime, @alienelvisobsession, @louisejoy86,

@artlover8992, @windsofthesea, @gayforelvis, @notstefaniepresley,

@lovininapinkcadillac, @dkayfixates, @jaqueline19997, @presleyenterprise,

@crash-and-cure, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @wildhorseinkansas,

@tacozebra051, @lookingforrainbows, @spooky-hazex,

@powerofelvis, @ashtag6887, @myradiaz, @richardslady121,

@elvisrealgf, @genetakovicluvr, @thetaoofzoe, @mydarlingelvis

@j-v-9-2

@mspoisonivey

@aaron57070

@rainyday10-4

@rocknroll50sep

@dream-in-x-dream2

@sasural

@satisfy-the-crave

@velvetelvis

@sillybookmarks

@everythingelvispresley

@elvisgirly

@1dluver13xx

@thedaisymaisy

@amydarcimarie

@p0lksaladannie, @oh-my-front-door, @fallinlovewithurlove,

@shantellescrivener, @i-r-i-n-a-a, @stargirllily19, @laura23elvis,

@meetmeatyourworst, @rachelljeann222, @precious-lil-scoundrel,

@peaceloveelvis, @returntopresley, @tupelomiss, @archival-ep

@pinkcaddyconfessions, @gatheraheart, @rachel-snider19,

@tina2345678, @annapresley8 @deniseinmn, @elvispresleywife,

@elvispresleysslut, @lovemoonsstuff, @sfull12345

@rosarodrigues, @all-hookedup-on-elvis, @queenheartz

@little-laamb, @pixiedustcosmos, @indiatuck, @sabovanhalen, @obsessionisthecure,

@hooked-on-elvis, @aprilbluey @laurenoned

@epthedream69 @underthememphissun @presley72elvis @m-s30 @eapep

@rjmartin11 @dreamingofep

#Elvis presley #elvis #Elvis Presley fanfiction #Elvis fanfic #Elvis x oc #Elvis Presley x oc #why can't you see what you're doin' to me

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pricegouge · 2 days

Text

Fatted Rabbit Part Nine

Bear!John AU

Rated M

Part One

By the next morning you're quietly concerned you've gone and fallen in love. It would be enough to set you on edge if John wasn't so fucking sweet. He makes breakfast in his pajama pants again, serves you a 'cuppa' exactly as you'd made it the day before. He asks how you're feeling and if you need anything and kisses your temple, lips lingering on your forehead as if checking for a fever.

"'M'not sick," you remind him and he just grins against your skin, caught.

"I read last night that some people run fevers this time of month."

"Doing some light reading?"

"Mhm. Just wanna take care of you, honey."

"And what have you been doing?"

"Well, there's always room for improvement," he smiles.

You'd expect that after a second date turned celibate two night stand, the two of you would've run out of things to talk about by now. Instead, John fills you in on his plans for the week (wait staff training and a meeting with a small business community chapter he says he'd rather pull his teeth out than attend), and gossips about how he's pretty sure Simon has a crush on Soap which gets you laughing.

"Simon doesn't seem like he's ever had a crush on anyone."

"No, he's more of the 'decide he's in a relationship one day and hope the other person notices' type."

"How's that working out for him?"

"Dunno. He's yet to try it."

"And Soap's the man? Simon seemed pretty annoyed with him…"

"Tha's the hell of it. Fully expected to come back to one betta in the bowl, you know? Either the big guy's getting soft in his old age, or Soap's magnetism is universal."

"Well, it's definitely not that, " you laugh, thinking of the cocky Scot.

"Mm. You gonna come downstairs with me? Let him try his charms on you again?"

You bite your lip. "No, but thank you. Think I'm gonna go for a hike today. Get some fresh air."

John's eyes widen in fake concern. "You see that bear again you tell him you're spoken for now, yeah?"

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face, feeling like a child. It only grows when you see John smiling contentedly back at you. "I don't know. What if he gets mad? Don't wanna piss a bear off."

"Smart rabbit. Suppose I'll just have to share."

"Man, all the local girls are gonna be so mad when they realize I've managed to snag the two biggest studs in town," you wink.

John's answering smile is the toothy one that always leaves you a little breathless, a disturbing mix of nervous and excited.

Well, disturbing in that you know you shouldn't trust him with this feeling. You remember his jealous comment the other night, the one you'd wanted to reflect on when sober. Today seems like a good time for it, considering how easily he's managed to reduce you to mushy sentiments.

"Think we're the lucky ones, bunny."

You make your excuses soon after and John sends you off with a rumbly, 'Don't get eaten.' It should probably be taken seriously - there is, after all, a massive, oddly behaving bear that may or may not be stalking you - but something about the way he says it reminds you of the way he'd stuck his face in your crotch like a starved man, kept comparing you to food; you're fuzzy with embarrassment when he opens the Jeep door for you.

"Well. Wanna keep the bear happy, but maybe not that happy, you know?"

"Mm, good rabbit." Earthquake pitch again, felt more than heard as he leans in to kiss you goodbye. When he pulls back, he looks a bit more serious. "Don't suppose I can convince you to come back later and spend the night?"

It's sweet, but you suspect it's extended more out of concern for your safety than a genuine desire to spend another night with you. It combines with your growing need for time to think to get you demuring. "No thanks. Need a break from your snoring."

John huffs, unbothered. "Fair. Well, don't be afraid to call if you need anything. I'll be busy with the staff today but it should die off after nine. Text, yeah?"

"Sure thing, pumpkin." You're trying for sarcastic. Miss entirely. Disconcerting.

"Up you get, bunny." And then you're being guided up into the Jeep as if you weigh nothing and shit that's gonna leave you lightheaded every time. "We'll make plans later in the week?"

"Sure. Get with Simon about ideas. Maybe we can get together for a double date?"

John laughs, loud and sudden. "Oh, I'd pay good money to see Simon on a date. Bet you he'd go in for a kiss without taking that mask off." You're not sure if it's appropriate to laugh at that, so you don't. John doesn't seem bothered, carrying on. "But alright. You gonna come watch your match with me tomorrow at least? No obligation to spend the night. Promise."

You want to say yes, definitely, but a bigger part of you knows you should get some space and perspective. You've fallen hard and fast, and not only could that be dangerous, it was also straight up unwise after the kind of relationship you just got out of. And you'd accidentally told him you didn't want to be casual. That was… you didn't regret it, per se. Just wish you'd held your tongue a little longer.

"Got a sales meeting," you blurt. Fuck, that's stupid. Why even lie? John's not gonna care if you want to skip a few nights.

"Sales meeting?"

"Yeah… international company. Some of the meeting times can be odd."

"...Okay."

"Okay. But we'll definitely see each other soon, eh?"

"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he says softly. Fuck, too softly. He's onto you. Fuckshit.

"I'm lying," you blurt, unable to stand the kicked puppy look on his face another moment.

John's face cycles through surprise and amusement quickly, lands on slightly patronizing. "Really?"

"Yes. Sorry. I don't know. I guess I just thought you'd be mad if I just said no."

"No reason to be mad, bunny," John hedges and you're unsure if it's worse to read his apprehension as hurt or the recurring concern he adopts whenever you're being too obvious. He's too sweet.

"Right. Well, it's not that I don't want to see you again, anyway. I just think some space would be smart. I'm kinda… getting over a bad breakup, I guess, so I don't want to rush into anything ill-advised, you know? Not that I think this is ill-advised!" you add quickly, clocking something dark growing on the edges of his expression. "Just… want to think some things over, if that makes sense?"

A beat. John's expression is tight, but it reminds you more so of the time those idiots at the rink called you fat than of any time Phil donned the same expression. "Of course, bunny. Can I ask… your breakup… Anything I need to worry about?"

You nearly laugh. "God, no. Well, only if he shows up suddenly, I guess, but not for the reason you're probably assuming."

"What do you mean?"

"Another time," you wave him off. "Just know I'd sooner die than go back to Phil so no worries there."

He definitely doesn't look satisfied, but thankfully doesn't press. "Okay, bunny. Take your time. Let me know when you're available, yeah?"

You sigh, borderline exasperated for no real reason. "Told you to stop being so sweet. I don't know what to do with it."

John smiles, a little sad. "Well, we'll just have to get you used to it, then."

***

Over the next few days you're an emotional mess. There's a lot to unpack and while John's as far from any of your past partners as possible, the speed at which you've gone from 'never dating again' to 'if he calls me sweetheart one more time I'm gonna tell my mom about him' is alarming to say the least.

You're not ashamed to admit that - while you'd already been pretty crazy about him - a non-zero amount of this sudden infatuation is proximity and remember-when-he-dragged-that-hot-tongue-up-your-pussy-even-though-you'd-already-established-he-wasn't-getting-laid-tonight induced. Two weeks ago the thought of even touching yourself had made you cringe, but here John stuck his fucking face in your crotch and you'd simply melted. He could've done it, you're not afraid to admit. You can blame it on the alcohol, the desperation to feel good after everything - whatever you need to tell yourself, but at the end of the day you know he could have done it and you would have liked it and that's really all there is to say on that, isn't it?

Except it's not. Because he hadn't. Because you were drunk and he'd said he wouldn't.

You'd wonder at your luck, rebounding with a decent guy, but you're surprised how much you don't want John to be something casual like that. You hadn't been lying when you'd said as much, though you'd been debating if you'd accidentally stuck your foot in your mouth ever since. It's not that you don't want a relationship with John - far from - it's just that you're not sure how smart it is to rush into anything right now.

You spend a day out by Whitefish, hoping the physical distance will help you gain perspective, but it doesn't. John occupies ninety percent of your thoughts. When you wake up, you miss the heavy warmth of him. Midday, you think about texting to see how Simon and Soap are getting along. It's easy when the sun's out and your general demeanor is less dire. During the day, you focus on how sweet he is; but at night your doubts creep in, and you remember the blatant jealousy and the way the divot between his brows denotes an anger he steadfastly denies.

Phil used to deny his aggression, too.

You don't honestly believe John has yet been angry with you, but that cloudy look makes you gun shy, and you've honed your instincts to a knife point over the last few years so you're loath to ignore them now. There's no denying you're a different person than you were when you'd met Phil. Before, you would have ignored these issues in favor of the stability he'd brought you; but you're currently content to be as unstably homeless as possible so long as you can keep yourself safe (relatively).

This just leaves the question of John, and whether or not you ought to listen to that tiny voice in your head. If it were just the quick temper that worried you, you could write it off as PTSD induced paranoia, but the growing regularity with which he can reference instances he was not present for is raising some hairs. It makes you feel crazy for even considering it, but you've lived under some level of surveillance before. Phil used to throw things you'd said or done in private in your face just to remind you he could. Prove he had control. John doesn't sound threatening when he does it, but it doesn't sound purely coincidental, either.

After five days of mulling it over, you're feeling a lot better. Clarity comes piecemeal and sluggish, but it does come:

In the greasy smear of a pan you'd used to make a grilled cheese, you divine that you don't need to know if you're ready for a real relationship. At the end of the day, the two of you have only been on two dates. You may have agreed on wanting to be more than casual, but it's still not like you exchanged vows or anything. You're allowed to stop overthinking and just enjoy John's company. And you feel like an idiot when you're sitting lakeside, just enjoying the sun, and suddenly realize that while you'd technically only left Phil a few weeks ago, you've been downright fucking pupal for years. When you're in the thick of it, it's so easy to drown yourself in the to-do's and the now-what's and the where-can-I-hide-this that it's enough to think of your actions as nothing but that - actions. Can't see the forest for the trees, as it were. But now you recognize that you've basically been a single woman living under extremely unpleasant circumstances for years now. It's an oversimplification, of course, but the situation you're in now doesn't necessarily require further elaboration. You're finishing off your crochet project when you remember people are allowed to just be angry sometimes and that doesn't make them dangerous. John is no threat. For better or worse, staying with Phil long after you'd gotten wise to his ways had at the very least made you confident you could spot a viper at ten clicks. You'd been quite close and personal with John and he'd never once raised your hackles in any way that wasn't reasonable, or at least couldn't easily be explained away.

Of course, once you've come to these conclusions, you allow yourself to start missing him. He's been so sweet through all of this, but the fact that he's been good about giving you space these last few days has stood out in your mind as one of the top reasons you're sure you've just been a bit obstinate re: allowing yourself to be happy. You've kept your distance for nearly a week and although you could read it plain as day on his face how much it upset him when you'd said you'd wanted time, John's been content to just wish you a good morning and ask how your day went at night. He never pries to see how you're feeling, or what you're thinking, or where you are, or even what you're up to. Basically just wants confirmation you're still alive and then he leaves you alone, just as you'd wanted.

Except, as the days go by, you begin to realize that isn't what you want. Not the obvious concern - that's sweet, actually, especially when your friend the bear is becoming an almost nightly visitor - but the self-inflicted loneliness. You're not sure you wanted John to chase you, exactly (you're not in middle school after all), and you're thankful he took your concerns seriously, but something about it has made you feel… bereft.

"Think it's the hormones," you inform the bear one night. He seems to agree, if the way he sniffs and drools all over the seal of your window is any indication. You're over your period by now, but your impending horny week might be responsible for your unreasonable expectations. "What do you think? I should bite the bullet, eh? Man's not a mind reader, after all."

It lowers, somehow both excited and miserable. If you didn't know him any better, the thick saliva it's currently trying to wash your Jeep with would be disconcerting, but you're fairly confident he's just excited about the honey he smells in your front seat. Probably. If it was rabid it would be dead by now, surely?

"Guess I'm just not used to getting what I want," you grumble, perhaps a little self-pitying. If he finds you pathetic, the bear doesn't let on. He takes a moment to look you directly in the eye and moo, licking the window for good measure.

In the morning, John asks if you'd be interested in joining him on a trip to the local flower shop.

A/N: just a shorty gearing up for the next chapter. That one's gonna change the rating >:)

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