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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable.

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits.

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions.

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart.

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words.

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll.

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag.

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom.

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty.

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list.

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them.

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed.

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that.

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety.

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker.

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now.

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently.

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking.

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave.

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto.

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on.

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say.

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home.

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped.

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out.

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty.

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late.

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening.

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding.

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away.

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking.

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice.

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name.

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position.

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good.

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark.

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan.

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely.

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good. Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed.

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly.

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room.

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down.

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?”

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response.

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth.

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?”

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks.

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip.

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth.

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input.

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips.

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries.

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more.

Intensifying.

Exhilarating.

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you.

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck.

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning.

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair.

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves. It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction.

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.”

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels.

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine.

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious.

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat.

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence.

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk.

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction.

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then.

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

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skei-seems · 3 years

Text

Professor Reid (PART 2)

(Click here for PART 1:) https://skei-seems.tumblr.com/post/642651570175148032/professor-reid

Summary: (con’t) After a steamy interaction with her professor on a school trip and a bad misunderstanding, Y/N tries to make up for her mistake when a new opportunity arises.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (female) reader

Category: Smut [NSFW]

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Swearing

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part 1. Please like/reblog, I would really love to hear your thoughts and feel free to send me requests. Hope you guys like it! :)

-----------

Spencer didn’t know what had caused you to change so suddenly, he wanted to talk but you were so good at avoiding him. He wanted to tell you it was all a mistake, that it never should have happened, but the other part of him wanted, no needed, you in every way. Prior to the trip he dealt with a bad breakup - his girlfriend cheated on him - and it had pushed him far enough to want your sweetness and innocence more than ever. If only you would let him talk to you...

A sharp wind of breath swirled into his lungs when he saw you that evening, you looked breathtaking. Your hair flowed perfectly around your face, and your body fit so well in your tight clothing, he adored that you always wore sneakers despite the rest of the group’s formal attire. He just couldn’t avert his eyes from this goddess of a woman.

-----------

He was looking at you like a meal. Those melting eyes still sent shivers down your spine. Annoyed, you occupied yourself with your phone while the group waited in line. The booming music made it difficult to hear yourself think once you were all inside. The place was modern and extremely crowded, and the music more popular and recent.

The song playing was not to your taste, though there was something about the loudness sending vibrations through your chest, and the strong amount of perfume and cologne in the air that reverberated into an intense excitement in the pit of your stomach. Some of the group seated themselves at a table overlooking the crowded dance floor, the rest scattered out to join the dancing bodies or to get drinks. After getting a drink, you took a seat across from Professor Reid. He watched you tentatively through the first bit of the night, and you shifted a little your seat. Those penetrating brown eyes through his blonde curls had the tendency to burn holes in you.

You bit your lip, an idea had lit up in you. You downed the last of your drink and headed straight into the crowd, and joined their rhythmic movements. Soon, a good looking guy your age started to dance with you. He was cute, you couldn’t deny that, but he wasn’t... him. Nevertheless, it was part of your plan. Initiating phase two, you moved closer until you were dancing like you and Spencer had the other night. Your eyes wandered around until they landed on him, he was staring at you, eyes lit with a fire that you could see even from the distance where you were standing. You smirked, and continued moving without breaking eye contact. Suddenly, and without warning, the handsome stranger you were tangling with pushed his tongue down your throat. OK, none of that, you thought to yourself. It had not been part of your plan. Fed up, you pushed the horny man off of you and strode out of the club.

The fresh air was a relief like no other. Not even halfway through a night at the club, and you had already had enough. You rested against the wall of the building, a spot where there wasn’t a crowd of people waiting in line. Before you could make a move to start walking home, a slim body appeared in front of you.

“What was that about?” Professor Reid’s voice came out as husked, right against your face as he pushed both of his hands on the wall beside your face, trapping you between him and the wall.

Unable to conjure up an explanation in the closed proximity, you gulped and looked into those two orbs of honey.

You pushed him away, regaining some posture. “What was that about? Really,” you spat out. “What’s you-having-a-girlfriend about?!”

The bit of shouting had caused adrenaline to course through your body, your chest was heaving. He looked taken aback at your accusation.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone changing to a much softer one.

“I heard you on the phone in the cafeteria.”

He slowly took a deep breath. “That was my little sister, really.”

The look in his eye told you he wasn’t lying, you didn’t have to be a profiler to see that. For a moment you were dumbstruck, but the professor spoke again before the silence stretched too long.

“I did have a girlfriend,” this information came differently as you previously took it, when it was just an assumption. “I broke up with her not long ago,” he looked away, “she cheated on me.”

Guilt quickly built up in you, unlike it had before when you thought you would be a wedge in someone else’s relationship. No, this was something new, something mixed with shame.

“Professor,” you finally said. “I’m... sorry.”

The smart eyes studied you before he shook his golden curls. “You didn’t know. But if you think the other night was a mistake, I get it. It’s fine, we can forget about it.”

Hesitation and guilt kept you from telling him otherwise, your mouth just opened and closed. He pursed his lips, then called a taxi to take you back safely to the hotel.

-----------

It had been weeks since the trip, you hadn’t spoken a word to Professor Reid except for a few short answers in class. He seemed back to his old self. You tried, but each time you saw his beautiful golden hair and those god forsaken eyes, and those soft red lips - you could not forget how they had felt on yours - the slick feeling of hunger and lust grew from the pit of your stomach and rose up to your throat.

You were deep in thought when the door of the classroom swung open and pulled every student’s attention from whatever they had been busying their thoughts with. It was the head of your University, what on earth was she doing here? She searched the class and her eyes landed on you, “Ah, Miss (Y/L/N).”

Trying not to freak out, you hesitantly replied, “Yes, ma’am?”

“Could I borrow a moment of your time after class?”

Wide-eyed, you bobbed your head up and down. “Of course.”

She smiled, then looked at your professor. “Oh, and you as well Doctor Reid, my office.”

He immediately looked at you, but seemed much less alert than you had. Still, butterflies wove their way through your intestines at your mutual gaze. He broke the eye contact and nodded at the Head Mistress, with that, she left.

You wanted to communicate with him through telepathy. “Does she know?” Ridiculous, you thought, then cheekily added, “your ass looks good in those pants.” The professor continued with his lecture, you desperately tried to fuse down the blush that had crept up your cheeks and resumed taking notes.

Not until class was over did you remember the request of the Head Mistress. You didn’t even know where her office was, so you silently followed Doctor Reid. The two of you entered after knocking. She was sitting behind her desk with an eager expression.

“Please, have a seat.”

The two of you lowered onto the leather stools like two naughty school children in a principal’s office.

“We heard back from the university of your expedition. They said without Y/N, their research project would have been drastically insufficient.”

Professor Reid looked over to you and smiled. “Well I must say, she is one of my best students.”

Your cheeks flushed crimson again. The Head Mistress nodded in approval. “But that’s not why I called this meeting.”

Frozen in your seat, you awaited your fate. Could Spencer hear your heat racing from next to you? Why was he not this nervous?

“I called you in, because I have elected you as your year’s representative to compete against other students across the country in FBI preparation and criminal analogy.”

“Of course,” she continued, “I called Doctor Reid here too as I would like him to be your mentor for the preparation and duration of the program.”

This information was baffling you. “I don’t know what to say, ma’am. I’m, honoured.”

In truth, you were mortified. Hours alone, studying with Professor Reid? You could barely focus in class, but one-on-one? Impossible.

--------

You were dreading your mentor meetings. The schedule the head mistress had set up for you indicated twice a week, and that was twice too many. Most of them were in the universities library, and some in his classroom. Nervously, you strode through the isles of old books until you found him in the far corner. He looked perfect, like a beam of sunlight, so at home between the rows and piles of books.

“Y/N,” he smiled up at you. It was so easy for him to act normal.

“Hi sir,” you avoided his gaze and sat down.

Your study session went slowly, and with immense difficulty to concentrate. It was like he was burning you from the other end of the table, unaffected by your presence. Sometimes he would get up and grab a book to show you something, leaning over your shoulder to point out a certain word or image.

When it was over, you were so relieved you almost left without saying goodbye. You had started to doubt whether this was going to work at all, until you spoke to your best friend. Her advise was that, if he didn’t let you focus, why should you allow him to focus? You mulled it around for a while, and decided that it was either that, or you’d have to ask for a new mentor. But you knew that would raise question, or worse, hurt his feelings - which you had already done once.

From a distance, you could see how utterly childish the idea was, but he had not satisfied your need of him that night back at the hotel. You still craved him, his lips on yours, his hands over your body and him inside of you. You knew some part of him had wanted this too.

So, the next meeting you showed up in the shortest skirt you could find in your closet, and an oversized sweater. What was underneath was a mystery. Professor Reid’s eyebrows climbed his forehead when you entered, he had been reading a book but almost dropped it when he saw your bare legs. A smirk crept up your face, your plan was working.

Sooner or later you knew he would break, or stop you. Of course, he was a profiler, he could see the signs of attraction, nervousness, lust, and whatever else you could possibly feel for him - oblivious to the fact that he had the visible emotional range of a teaspoon. (I hope y’all got that reference)

“Would you mind fetching the following encyclopaedia for me?” He asked with a layer of honey coating his sexy voice.

You happily obliged and after searching for a while you realised it was on the top most shelf behind him. Perfect. You grabbed a chair and walked over to the section, climbed on top and reached your hand to the book, making sure your skirt hiked up. “This one, sir?” You asked, looking down at him. A low string of swearwords were mumbled from below you. Doctor Reid nodded and quickly looked away from your exposed bottom, occupying himself with tapping his pencil.

Smiling, you seated yourself again and started rolling the back of your pencil between your mouth as he explained something to you. His eyes briefly traveled down to your lips, then back to your eyes. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with those large, veiny hands of his - your thighs pressed together. He was making you squirm just by existing, literally anything he did turned you on. When he was deep in focus, he pulled his lip between his teeth or raked a hand through his loose curls.

You let him rest for the next twenty minutes, then decided to take things up a notch, test the waters, if you will. You two were sitting side by side, him facing a little toward you, each focused on diagramming statistics from multiple books, when you “accidentally” dropped your pencil between his spread legs.

“Oops,” you giggled slightly, quickly getting down before he could.

Taking longer than needed to retrieve the fallen pencil and getting down on your hands and knees, you slowly looked up at him from your position. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t look away. From between his legs you spoke, “I’m so clumsy today,” and batted your lashes with innocence.

“I see that,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

You got back into your seat, he resumed his work. Maybe your plan wasn’t working, he still seemed calm and collected. You sighed, and were ready to call it quits, when you felt a hand on your thigh.

When you looked over he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were on the book on the table and his other hand was tugging on his collar. His touch was sending tingles straight to your core, and you almost moaned when he started rubbing circles on your inner thigh. Damn it, you thought, he was winning now. You didn’t want him to remove his hand, but you didn’t want him to have the upper hand either. So, you stood up - momentarily earning his gaze on you again - and sat on the edge of the table close to him, your legs dangling against his thigh that was facing you.

He looked up at you with suspicion. “You aren’t supposed to sit on the tables, you know.”

Your higher ground provided some confidence, you leaned in a little to him and in a whisper voice said, “We aren’t supposed to fuck on them either, how about we break more than one rule today?”

His pupils dilated and he pulled his lip between his teeth again, then abruptly stood up. “My office. Now.” He pulled you behind him as he lead the way.

--------

By the time you had gotten to Spencer’s office, your nerves had worked themselves up into snakes in your stomach. He was pulling you by your wrist, and slammed the door behind you once you got inside. You were pushed once again by those strong hands against the door, he kissed you. The feeling of his soft mouth on yours sent fireworks off behind your closed eyelids. It was bliss. You wove your hands through his hair, but he suddenly stopped kissing you.

“What makes you think you can talk to me like that, and tease me in a library full of people,” he whispered in a husky voice next to your ear, sending tingles down your back.

You bit your lip, the dominant side had come out again - and this time, you were happy to hand over the role of the upper hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Good girl, but I’m gonna have to punish you for that.” The excitement was building up between your legs at such a fast rate you were afraid it would soak completely through your tiny underwear.

“First” you said, and lowered onto your knees in front of him, “let me try to make it up to you.”

He watched you with his mouth open, and moved his hands to your hair. Smirking, you undid his belt and took him out, he was already hard. You licked up the underside, then swirled your tongue over the tip. This earned a loud moan from the professor, and an even louder one when you took him in completely. He guided the rhythm with his hands in your hair as you bobbed your head along his length, taking in what you couldn’t fit with your hands. You felt him twitch, then he suddenly drew you away and pulled up his pants.

“Enough,” he breathed out heavily, “I still want to fuck you.” His words sent chills down your spine. His hair had fallen into his eyes, his shirt and tie hanging askew - this messy look was your favourite.

You wrapped your hands around his neck as he picked you up and carried you you over to his desk, where he reattached your lips. You weren’t getting enough of him, even though your hands were exploring all the places they’ve been missing, until he grabbed your thigh and pushed his hardness onto your core. Electricity sparked between you two. A moan left your swollen lips, and he took this as a sign to continue rubbing onto you.

“You like feeling me against you?”

“Ahuh,” your reply came out as a half moan.

He put his mouth next to your ear again, “Wait till you feel what it’s like when I’m inside.”

His lips attacked your neck as he pulled off your sweater, only to discover you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. He clicked his tongue, “bad girl.” Shaking his head, he turned you around so you were bent over his desk. A hard hand landed on your behind. Instead of moaning, you inhaled sharply. “That’s it, not too loud.” He approved, and trailed his fingers up between your unclothed thighs.

You felt a little nervous like this, of course you had been fucked before, but never like this. But you wanted, and needed him so badly. “Sir,” you pleaded.

He chuckled, and rubbed you through your underwear, causing you to close your thighs around his hand. In disapproval, he separated your feet again and pulled off your underwear completely. You were left only in your skirt.

“We’ll leave this on,” he huffed, stroking the waistband softly.

The anticipation was too much. He snaked both of his hands around your waist and pulled you closer into a standing position. Now, his lips sloppily kissed into the crook of your neck as his hand moved down your stomach. A gasp left your mouth when his hand reached down there, slowly rubbing your sensitive part. Your body was squirming against his hand, and his free one came up to your throat.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed against your cheek.

“I-” you moaned again when his finger started rubbing faster, “-I want you inside of me!”

He smiled, “That’s what I like to hear.”

His fingers left your soaking area, causing you to moan at the loss of contact. You heard him fumbling with his pants again, then felt his bare harness stroke against you, which produced another moan. He bent you over his desk again, and without warning, slammed into you. Adjusting to his size was difficult, but when he gradually started pumping in and out it gave some relief. Your breathing was now coming out as loud sighs every time he dragged back into you, steadying himself by holding your right hip by hand and using the other to hold onto the desk.

“Faster,” you pleaded.

He swore and started pounding harder, in and out. Moans filled the air of his office. The fast rhythm was now building into a climax, you were getting closer with each thrust. You knew by the sounds coming from him that he was close too. “More,” you almost yelled. He obliged and thrusted until you were hitting the desk each time he pound into you. Pressure started to build up in your legs, you were so close. He grunted and continued slamming into you, every thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last. You moaned loudly as you reached your climax, the warmth causing him to reach his own. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he pulled out. You shakily sat down, out of breath and satisfied beyond what you had ever imagined possible.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed and kissed you once again after pulling on his pants.

Professor Reid looked at you with the same intrigue that made you need all this in the first place, and for the rest of the mentoring, this continued.

--------

A/N: I will be writing more Spencer Reid x reader, please send me requests (I will also write for characters from other shows/movies/books).

#professor reid #professor reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #x reader smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #professor reid x reader #fan fiction smut #x reader

246 notes · View notes

dokifluffs · 4 years

Text

Overfeeding and Aftercare | Tendo, Himekawa, Miya Twins

Pairings: Tendo X Reader (gender neutral), Himekawa X Reader (gender neutral), Osamu X Reader X Atsumu (not romantically though) ((gender neutral))

Genre: v a m p i r e, fluffffff, fantasyyyy

Author’s Note: asdkakahd fantasyyyyy i love fantasy so much so i hope yiu all enjoy!! Happy reading!!

Warnings: blood, passing out from loss of blood

Overfeeding and Aftercare | Kenma, Bokuto, Kuroo

Tendo:

The night sky was clear with not even a cloud floating in the sky, the crisp air flowing through your slightly open window, keeping your room cool throughout the night

You could hear the outside world so clearly- the crickets in the grass, the owls hooting in their trees, occasional sounds from other students’ in their own dorms

Testing season had fallen over university and it was time for everyone to spend this next month studying their eyes out, including you

You had been stuck in your room all day, leaving your seat at your desk as sparingly as possible to use the bathroom and to eat

Your stomach grumbled for the nth time tonight just thinking about dinner with your friends that you had to miss, instead stuck with a few granola bars you had left instead

There was absolutely no time to waste and you were on a clear schedule you made for yourself to get the most out of studying yet it meant sleeping and even eating less

Your single dorm was empty, simple and plain to your liking though you wished there were more pops of color to make it actually feel more enjoyable as you stayed in here

A small pile of clothes was formed in the corner of the room right outside your closet doors, your bed unmade from this morning when you woke

Your lamp light flickered from the old bulb that was near the end of its usable life

“No, no, no, not now,” your voice frantic, eyes heavy and body begging for sleep and sustenance as the light finally went out, a large gust of wind blowing through your window, making the pages of your notebook and textbooks flip

The pale moonlight shined in onto your desk as it peeked from beyond the tall oak tree that sat right outside your window

You groaned, your voice bouncing off the painted over concrete blocks of your dorm walls that matched everyone else’s as you leaned back in your chair

It was a weird feeling- your head spinning slowly, the burning sensation in your eyes as they watered when you finally shut them, pressing the palm of your hand over your eyes and forehead to relieve all the pressures you had pent up

“You’re up quite late…” You jumped in your seat, heart skipping a beat at the sudden silky voice of Tendo in your ears

His crimson eyes glowed in the dark, his two red orbs looking directly into your tired ones as you sat up in your seat, spinning to face him

He wore an oversized uni shirt that flowed with the breeze in the room, his hair down and the ends of his red locks obscuring his vision ever so slightly

“Don’t tell me you want to become nocturnal, now~” he teased playfully as he reached down, his icy hands taking yours in his, amused hearing the way you swallowed when he touched you

He tilted his head into your hand, his skin pleasantly cold against your worn, hot one from all the writing you did to review your notes and course

“I’m just studying, Satori. Are you hungry, again?” You asked, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone

“Always,” he mumbled into your skin as he narrowed looking down to you, bending himself down ever so slightly as your arm was stretched upward in his grasp

He lowered his head, never breaking his gaze with you as he brought his lips across your flawless skin, his mouth already salivating at the faint feeling and sound of your blood pumping through your ulnar artery in your wrist

He closed his eyes as he closed his lips around your wrist, his teeth sinking in, humming in delight at the sensation of your blood over his tongue

You let out a wince at the pinching feeling

He removed himself from your wrist, the dark liquid slowly dripping from his teeth marks as he licked his lips

“You haven’t been eating properly, Y/N,” his voice dropped as your name rolled off his tongue. “You taste different,” he said almost disappointedly yet sounded completely different

You couldn’t tell if it was the darkness in the room with the moon shining behind the leaves and branches of the tree but it seemed his eyes were glowing even brighter

“I need to make sure you take care of yourself or else my meals won’t be as enjoyable anymore~” he cooed as he licked up the blood gliding down your arm, the corners of his lips curling in enjoyment when he felt your arm tense up as his tongue dragged up your arm

You bit your lip feeling his teeth sink back into the bite he made, taking in your blood to fill his hunger

The pads of his fingers holding your hand squeezed as he held your hand, stretching it

Your breaths grew longer and deeper, your vision clouding as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier

You let out a big yawn, your body letting go

Tendo caught you in his arms as you almost collapsed to the ground from your seat, never letting your body even touch the cold tiled floor

He lapped his tongue over his bite before he let go of your wrist once again, bringing you to your bed before laying you down, joining beside you

He licked your wrist until it stopped bleeding as you caught up on some much needed rest

“You should’ve taken care of yourself more,” he playfully poked your forehead, brushing your hair with his fingers, your body naturally curling and moving impossibly closer to his to reach the cool feel of his body in your sleep

Your nose was filled with the scent of tendo, his hand holding yours as you peeked open your tired eyes, tilting your head up on your pillow to meet his red eyes

“Good morning~” he chimed happily after being awake all night since he never needed sleep ever since he became immortal. “You really needed that,” he brushed his index finger down the bridge of your nose, smiling at the way your cheek was squished into your pillow

“Today, you’re taking a break and I’m going to make sure you eat and stay hydrated properly,” he leaned forward and kissed your forehead before you let out a small “mm” before closing your eyes again, bringing your forehead to his chest, his hand resting on your back draped over your side, legs intertwined on your bed

He hummed content holding you close, imprinting the feel and shape of your body close with his, relishing in your warmth, one he hadn’t felt in a while

It was a feeling he was determined to get used to for the rest of his immortal life

Himekawa:

“Aoi, I’m here,” you shed off your raincoat and slipped out of your partially rained on shoes, calling into the darkened house, the curtains closed tightly to not let a single ounce of light in from anywhere. “Aoi?” You called into what seemed like an empty house

No movement or signs of anything or anyone

You walked carefully through the eerily dark house as rain showered over the house and entire neighborhood

“Aoi?” You knocked in his bedroom door standing ajar, creaking open with a haunting whine that made goosebumps rise over your arms

You shuffled in seeing the dark lump of his covers bundled up shift at the sound of your voice

“What’re you doing in there?” You peeked through a small opening that showed his face buried in the plush covers. “It’s time to feed, Aoi, it’s been too long.”

You tried to remove the blanket from him but was unable to budge

Ever since he changed, feeding became the thing he absolutely hated the most yet it was the one thing he needed to do

His eyes glowed bright red in the dark, no light natural or artificial could hold a candle to his eyes when they shined

He shook his head, one of the things he always did before he had to give in to feeding

He spent weeks after weeks, starving himself if it meant he didn’t have to feed on anyone or anything, most importantly, you but this also meant him gradually losing his strength

There were too many times in his early years where the hunger took over his humanity although no longer being one but what little he had left, even if he had to act like it, he wanted to keep it

This was a life he never asked for but he didn’t want a wooden stake through his heart or for his body to petrify- he didn’t want the bloodlust to consume him from the inside out again

“I know you don’t like this but you’re starving,” your voice was the calm in his storm that never went away as you brushed your fingers through his soft locks as they slid in between. “Please? I promise you won’t hurt me, you know I won’t let you.”

You could hear his quivering voice when he told you about his nightmares, seeing them so vividly at night, he could taste all the blood of those he had unintentionally drained, the horrors of what he was capable of, what he did to so many innocent people and the ones he loved most in the world

All he had left was you and he never wanted to lose you

He hesitantly sat up, the blankets falling off os his back and pooling all around his body, his fists clenched over his thighs, gaze avoiding yours

You pricked your index finger with a safety pin, bringing it to his lips

He gently took your hand in his, barely holding yours, his skin icy to the touch, it felt like as if he was standing outside during winter with nothing to keep him warm

He could feel his fangs protruding when his tongue made contact with the bead of your blood that formed on your fingertip and sucked

It was like an instant feeling when one drank water after being dehydrated for a day, however, in this case, it was hunger and thirst combined for weeks for Himekawa

Nothing had ever tasted so good in his lifetime

A shiver ran down your spine feeling his sharp teeth graze down the side of your finger, his lips ghosting over your palm before they found the soft spot in your palm, his teeth biting in and sinking into what felt like your radial artery

You winced at the pain but clamped your mouth shut, not wanting Aoi to stop because he surely would

It took a lot to get him to feed and almost nothing to get him to stop

He let the taste overcome him, all the fears he had was slowly dissipating as the black hole of hunger was taking over his mind

You blinked away, taking deep breaths as you kept yourself sitting upright, ignoring the sudden feeling of your body temperature dropping, the sudden rapid beating of your heart in your chest

You could feel your head drooping, swaying side to side as your vision blurred, the room beginning to spinning all around you

You bit into your knuckle, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggled to keep yourself conscious

He could feel all the energy and his strength returning with every ounce he consumed but fear pierced through his chest sharper than any stake when your body collapsed to the ground

His body froze seeing your unconscious body on the ground

You could hear soft whimpers in your ear, slowly becoming clearer and clearer as you slowly regained consciousness

“Y/N,” Aoi choked on his breaths with his eyes swelled and red from all the tears he cried and continued to drip off his chin. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, apologizing profusely as you woke, his hand automatically reaching for yours but instantly pulling back feeling the bandage he wrapped your hand in

He felt so heart broken, he wanted to disappear from existence the moment he realized you collapsed

It made him sick to his stomach despite ever being unable to feel sick

“I’m a monster,” he sunk back on his knees

“No, no, Aoi, you’re not,” you sat up, the damp towel he laid on your head falling onto his bed you laid on. “You are no monster to anyone,” you cupped his face, playfully squishing his wet cheeks, using your sleeves to wipe him dry

“You’ve been alive for centuries and who you are now is not the same person as centuries ago.” You pulled him close, peppering kisses to his forehead

“But I almost killed you.” He wanted to so badly to rip himself out of your hold so you wouldn’t have to touch him, touch someone who was supposed to love you yet almost ended your life

“But you didn’t and I’m still here and I will be til the end,” you reassured and hugged him close, pulling him to stand and making room beside you in his bed, your turn to dissipate his fears while more content that he actually fed compared to the past times

The Twins:

Ravens cawed at you, perched on the branches of the oak trees in front of the house of your best friends, Osamu and Atsumu

As soon as you knocked on their front door, it felt as if life had fast forwarded itself now that you were suddenly upstairs

This always happened whenever you came over- it was feeding time

Your eyes were always squeezed shut and it felt like the breath was taken out of your lungs whenever either of them brought you inside to wherever they planned to feed on you

“You can open your eyes,” Osamu’s voice calm and light in your ear as your feet made contact with the plush rug over the cold wooden floors

He took your hand in his, his touch icy to your warm, living skin, as he led you toward one of the lounging chairs by the fireplace as the wooden logs crackled in the flame

“About time, I’m starvin’” Atsumu pushes himself off the couch and snatching your grasp out of Osamu’s, bringing you to the couch

But Osamu didn’t let go. He was much more gentle with you than Atsumu, the more hangry of them two

Your back was pressed into Osamu’s chest with your legs stretched out, Atsumu already advancing between your legs, preferring to feed from your thighs and Osamu your neck

You had been their feeder for what felt like sll your life at this point, but it always made you squeamish

“Stop squirmin’,” Atsumu grumbled hungrily as he firmly held down your legs as he spread them, his breath tickling you before he found his spot and sunk his teeth in

You let out a small yelp, adjusting to the feeling

Osamu’s body was cool to the feel even through yours and his clothes

Unlike his brother, he was a lot gentler with you

Looping his arm from behind around your head, he gently tilted it to the side with the guidance of his fingers loosely holding your jaw

“I won’t make it hurt as bad,” he whispered into your ear, making your heart race, you wondered if he could feel or even hear it

He ghosted his lips along your shoulder and neck until he found his spot, slowly bringing his teeth to your skin and pierced through your skin like needles

Atsumu repositioned his fangs, holding your leg up, digging his fingers into your thighs that would be sure to leave bruises, biting deeper into your flesh to taste as much as he could

Osamu held one of your hands from behind, the other moving from your jaw to your eyes, tilting your head back

It felt as if Osamu’s grasp on your hand was tightening as a wave of fatigue washed through your body

The crackling sound of the fire began to echo and drift around your darkened vision from Osamu’s hand covering your eyes, your heart beat gradually slowing down until your consciousness slipped away

Osamu’s eyes opened as he removed himself from your neck, his hunger satiated, his bite clean and pressed a gauze from his pocket to your neck when he felt your body go limp in his hold

“Atsumu, stop.” He kicked his brother off of your thigh, only for the blonde one to latch back on, biting into your other thigh with ease

“I said. Stop.” Osamu pulled you closer as your crimson liquid came out of Atsumu’s messy, numerous bites

Atsumu’s hunger was insatiable after having to wait a week every single time you fed them and this time, he was worse than the last

He glared at his brother, eyes glowing bright red even with the fireplace illuminating the entire room as Osamu held you close, your body curled up in his lap as his own eyes glowing at his twin

Your mind slowly began to wake as your eyes fluttered open

You could hear your heart beating slowly in your ears as if you were asleep- yet you were awake

Your hands felt about as you laid still in a dim bedroom with the curtains closed and a small lamp on a desk in the corner of the room

“Finally awake,” Atsumu huffed

Sitting up, your arms trembled weakly holding your body up

You didn’t even notice the twin until he moved in his seat beside the bed, your nose filling with the scent of Osamu but also the scent of Atsumu

“You’ve been out for the last three hours,” he sounded almost annoyed as you leaned back and rested into the pillows, half your face pressed into the bed you assumed was Osamu’s based on the smell

“Take it easy,” he pulled the blanket a bit higher over your body with a sigh

You were dressed in a big, dark red long sleeve you assumed was Atsumu’s

“Out.” You could hear Osamu’s voice as the door opened with a thud as it hit the wall. Atsumu grumbled beneath his breath as he got up from his seat, closing the door firmly behind him

Osamu came into vision as he brought the tray with something hot sitting upon it, steam rising from it but whatever it was, it smelled delicious

He peeked his head to you as he sat in the seat Atsumu sat in moments ago, pulling the seat closer

“I’m sorry for my brother... you know how ‘tsumtsum gets when he’s hungry,” he sighed. “How do you feel?” He asked, moving the blanket down from your face ever so slightly to see more of you

“Tired like I could sleep... forever,” you yawned, the tear rolling from your eye, over the bridge of your nose to the pillows

“You need to eat, I made some soup.” Osamu helped sit you up, careful with his strength before he poured you a bowl of soup, insisting on spoor feeding you when he felt how weak you really were

The hot liquid went down your throat, the savory taste lingering on your tastebuds and fed a hunger in your stomach you weren’t even aware of until now

For the rest of the night, Osamu and Atsumu took turns looking over you, mostly Osamu, though so he could change your gauzes, making sure their bites weren’t causing injections

Though it never really seemed like it, Atsumu was grateful having you in his and his brother’s life, feeding them, continuing to come back even after all the times he over fed from you

He peeked beneath the gauze to make sure he didn’t actually hurt you as you slept, bidding the two of them farewell till next week

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @osamuonigiri @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan@turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya

989 notes · View notes

chatsu · 3 years

Text

˗ˋ there you are

genre — angst, fluff (?) warning — mentions of death, grief words — 2,124

notes — it is 3:07 am, and i don't want to come up with a synopsis so, i shan't <3 this is my first writing post,, so uhh, please give me criticism !

violet chrysanthemum — unbearable pain at the thought of losing a loved one white chrysanthemum — reserved for sympathy and remembrance lyra — a constellation, which you can read more about here !

hugging his knees on the pavement, oikawa tooru couldn't help but overhear the faint chitter of loved ones greeting each other, serving as a reminder to why he was lamenting in the first place. a combination of heavy sobs and pleas of a miracle, he had grown used to, yet he still found the letters engraved on the cold stone in front of him almost foreign.

the anniversary of your death was fast approaching. caught in the fast lane of change, tooru has experienced almost every stage of grief. almost.

he remembers a shade of reddish brown framing your corpse. a metallic odour accompanied by tears burning every inch of his face, creating a sickly feeling in the back of his throat, which only multiplied as he released his frustration in the form of bargains.

' if only's ' and ' what if's ' his brittle voice had echoed — temporary truces, in which he begged and pleaded with every god and goddess known to the universe, in an attempt to negotiate his way out of this harsh reality.

from denial to anger, and from bargaining which soon melted into his current state of stark numbness in your absence. the past seemed more alive than the present.

stationed on the 4th, hazy reminders of a once living past seemed to obstruct his path of progression leading to the 5th and final phase of this grieving process that must inevitably follow. acceptance.

tooru is a competitive man. on the court, he is capable of adapting to new environments, examining their playing style, studying each and every player in a matter of seconds and having the ability to draw out their strengths — thus, blending into the team as if he was apart of the original line up.

yet, surrounded by this atmosphere of sorrow and anguish, he stuck out like a sore thumb. even after scrutinizing how others had dealt with this profound feeling of misery, their so called 'methods' were in vain, and he continued to suffer.

his fear of being second best, he now had no chance of overcoming. because as if in a race, tooru was exasperated, struggling to catch up with everyone else.

even the stars are lonely, but at least there were a multitude to keep company, and he couldn't help but envy them. your family, friends, hanamaki, matsukawa, hajime, even takeru had accepted the fact that you were gone, as they smiled fondly, memory sweet with you.

tooru could not remember the last time he smiled — a genuine one, that is. one that isn't plastered on when prompted with the constant ' how are you holding up? '. one that creeps up to his eyes to resemble a crescent moon. one with familiarity and love. one because of you.

the setting sun bathed everything in shades of lavender, painting the flowers propped beside your grave a colour he had wished they were. telling a tale of many consecutive days spent in this location, they bloomed brightly and never wilted away for they were regularly changed with a newer, hand picked bouquet. today, the flowers hadn't the ability to mock him, for today was different.

earlier, under what he thought were unfortunate circumstances, he was left stricken by the lack of purple petals accessible. left with no other choice, he let his fingers fumble along those coloured as snow instead. however, opting for these flowers proved to be difficult, as he realised he was breaking his routine.

because the shadow of the past still hung over, his fear of being second best soon morphed into a fear of change. a fear of everything changing. again, while he still had not adjusted to his scars wounded by time. it was nearing a year since tragedy struck. a year since that decisive moment of change.

but due to a sudden yet short lived act of bravery, tooru chose to cease sewing the seeds of habit, and as of right now, he found himself laying these flowers in their accustomed seat atop the gleaming stone. stems slightly compressed due to his secure grip, but petals remaining untouched. although both were chrysanthemums, the previous batches had been violet, and the current were white, simple as.

it is only when his nephew appears in his peripheral, he is snapped out of his trance, plastering a soft smile to veil his conflicting thoughts. hardly a word is spoken between them as takeru gently places an article of clothing on his lap, then is soon walking off.

leaving tooru with more questions than answers, his eyes shift downwards and widen at the sight of his old aoba johsai uniform folded ever so neatly. at an agonizingly slow pace, his slender fingers start to inspect every nook and cranny of the oversized — on you, not him — jersey. he holds it gingerly for this specific piece of fabric is a memory preserved.

and like a bridge to the past, tooru finds himself traversing along the nostalgic path, illuminated by memories time seemed to have dimmed.

as if the past is burned into his psyche, he still remembers the day you ignored him, well at least tried to.

though your actions were deemed fruitless, as you soon dropped your facade when he eventually caught up to you while you were walking home. mentally cursing yourself for your futile attempts at avoiding him, you had confessed that you were not in fact jealous, but curious as to why there were so many girls wearing his exact jersey. there was an attempt to stifle a laugh, yet one look at the stubborn pout on your face was all it took for tooru to burst out laughing.

"what is so funny?" you had tilted your head with a slight scowl painting your features.

impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for a response, but from his hunched figure and the smack! when he brought his hand to his knee was confirmation that his fit of laughter wasn't going to die out any time soon.

"oikawa" you had puffed, and the use of his last name was enough to get his attention, as he flicked an invisible tear off his face.

dramatically, with his hand latched onto his hip to form his signature stance, his free arm stretched out and squeezed your shoulders.

"they're not mine" he chuckled with a shrug and a smile — smug, yet genuine.

"listen tooru, i'm not dumb. you're the team captain right? the number 1's on the back practically mocked me!"

"may i ask, how many were there?"

"you mean how many were wearing your uniform? hmm i don't know, maybe every single girl i saw cheering?"

"yeah, and do you really think i'd have that many jerseys to give away? iwa-chan would be kicking my ass if i was constantly getting new jerseys!"

moments of silence passed and you figured that he was right, but your stubborn demeanour wasn't going to admit defeat that easily.

"i suppose that it would cost a lot of money, which you don't have, seeing as i was the one who had to pay for lunch yesterday. plus, you uhh, still seem as small as you were in first year so i assume you wouldn't need a change in size"

feigning a gasp, he clutched his heart and claimed that it was his turn to ignore you. snickering in response, he cupped your face and peppered it with kisses until he spoke up again.

"you know, ordering uniforms are pretty common for fangirls. buuut, you don't have to spend a single dime 'cause there's only one i'd like you to wear"

digging into his bag whilst motioning you to lift your arms up, he pulled out his aoba johsai jersey. he quickly put it on you and stood back, admiring how the cloth adorned you — no, how you adorned the cloth. this went on for a while, him staring at you in pure adoration, until his face lit up and he went back to fumbling in his bag.

"here! to fully establish that this is for you and you only, a limited edition, aoba johsai uniform, signed by the oikawa tooru" he beamed, placing the top of a permanent marker in between his teeth and biting the lid off.

his left hand found purchase on your waist as the other was in the midst of signing the front and back of your shirt with his signature. tooru being, well, tooru, he began to embellish the entire fabric in little hearts with ' tooru + y/n 's in large lettering, until he was interrupted by your arms outstretching and pulling him in for a hug. deciding against sulking about not getting to finish his oh so lovely drawings, he instead chose to reciprocate and nuzzle into your neck, basking in your warmth.

from then on, it was an essential garment to your outfits. yes, you were reluctant as the bright turquoise colour certainly did not match with everything, but ' you can pull off anything ' is what tooru had claimed. some fashion advice coming from the mf who wore plaid shorts <3

unlike the rest of your clothes in the closet collecting dust, it remained hung up on the handle, ready for use. from matches to study dates which later transitioned into sleepovers, he always complimented your attire in different ways as if it was your first time wearing it.

braiding his chocolate coloured locks, he lay on top of you, the back of his head on your stomach as he made an effort to mirror the rhythm of your breathing with every rise and fall of your chest.

after a lack of commentary, you noticed that he was not staring off into space, but rather the glow in the dark stars you had stuck up on your ceiling. deciding to take advantage, you extended your arm to switch off the lamp adjacent your bed, and while the light faded, the stars gathered overhead.

"oh - hurry up tooru, look! it's a shooting star, make a wish" you gushed, having one eye shut while the other awaited his reaction.

"come on now, you know i didn't bring my glasses with me today, hmph"

"no no, how does that saying go — you don't have to be able to see it to believe it! you're the one always saying those cliche quotes all the time"

".. angel, i'm sorry but this is all just a yellow blur to me. i really can't see anything"

huffing at his habitual use of endearment, you wrapped your hand around his wrist and straightened out his index finger to guide it towards the ' shooting star ' that had not moved from the centre of your ceiling.

"better?"

"much"

letting out a satisfied hum, you both closed your eyes, your conversation, but not your minds as they wished upon the faithful glints of gold which magnified the tranquility of it all.

you eased your grip around his wrist but he took this as an opportunity to interlock his fingers with yours. and with the stars winking from a pitch black sky, your wishes combined, and the soft squeeze of your hands, it was a silent promise that you would always be with each other.

perhaps it was the flower's slight change in hue which resulted in this caprice of fate, because for the first time, he finds himself recalling positive memories rather than remnants of your death.

and for the first time, tooru accepts. the unknown feeling envelops him, yet it does so with open arms, a welcoming smile, and no judgement.

the way he allows his tears dye the turquoise clothing a darker shade, he recognizes that he is no longer under the false pretence that all is well.

he need not question why the corners of his lips subliminally upturn, because as as he clutches this jersey, it's almost as if he is clutching you once more.

while the last stars still fleck the sky, he thanks those lucky stars, for it is you there with him, and he finds solace in your presence.

but this time, tooru isn't afraid to let go.

by no means does he intend to let go of you, no — never. but to let go of the affliction, pain, and instead have regard for the past in preparation for the future. in preparation for change.

and with his damp high school uniform, his smile that is heartful, and the lyra hanging heavy in the eastern sky, they all begin to coalesce into his former self.

the tooru who is not a genius. the tooru who underestimates his own strength, the tooru who overcomes adversity. the tooru, whom you are in love with.

and with the knowledge, and most importantly, acceptance, that you are no longer here with him physically,

oikawa tooru knows that wherever he goes, there you are.

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Hoodie HCs 2 . . . Kinda

Pairings: BNHA boys x reader

Warnings: None, not even cursing Σ(☉_☉)

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari

A/N: Ok, let’s have a little chat here.

I want to start out by saying I’m not mad, I’m just a little annoyed.

So this same anon sent the same request to someone else (see their post here) and the other author posted theirs around the day after I finished the prompt. If I hadn’t already written it up, I would have just deleted the ask and moved on, but I was already done so here we are. I’m not sure what went wrong where, but let me just say this: Please don’t send the same request to different authors around the same time. It’s not cool. Again, I don’t know everything about the situation, but it’s just really frustrating to both authors when you do things like this.

Also also, anon didn’t really follow my rules. 1. I don’t write for Shigaraki, and 2. I write for fem or gender neutral reader only (this is gender neutral). My rules are there for a reason, both for my benefit and yours, so please look over them before requesting. At the moment I’m only writing for eight people.

Anyway, mini rant over. I hope you guys enjoy these headcanons!

-Sugar

°˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖°

Bakugou:

Dis boi, istg

He’s such a little pain

But you love him

And he even loves tolerates you

One evening, he was in your room, poking through your closet

You were presently in the shower, and had sent him up to your room to grab your towel you had forgotten

But let’s just say he got a little . . . sidetracked

You had so many oversized sweatshirts hanging tantalizingly from your rack

You certainly wouldn’t miss just one, would you?

After some brief inner turmoil, Katsuki pulled one down; a simple solid black

He experimentally brought it nearer to his nose, checking to see if his suspicion may be correct

Indeed, it smelled heavenly of you; your detergent, your deodorant, even down to the faintest traces of sweat and shampoo around the collar

He squeezed and balled it in his fists for a moment, debating while he absentmindedly continued his search for your towel

Soon enough, he found your fuzzy rectangular strip of cloth and, now holding two items from your closet, left your room

He made a quick stop at his own room to drop off the hoodie

Once he had cheekily made his initial delivery, he settled back into his room

He pulled your hoodie over his head, enjoying the baggy feel of it around him

Katsuki was liking this more than he cared to admit, but it didn’t matter since you wouldn’t see him with your hoodie anyway, if he had anything to say about it

Now, you did, in fact, notice the disappearance of your hoodie, and initially brushed it off

That had been the first week

Eventually, you began to cultivate your own suspicions, taking notice of how suddenly your boyfriend grew defensive (at least, more so than normal) any time you brought up the black hoodie that had formerly belonged to you

Indeed, it was time to investigate

You invited yourself over for a study session, waiting until Bakugou ducked into his en-dorm bathroom before quickly and quietly getting up

You poked around a bit, scanning for obvious hiding places

Getting back down, you peeked under the bed

Sure enough, there it was

It was then that you heard the bathroom door click and swing open and shut, then Katsuki’s footsteps froze

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” he shouted

“Looking for something,” you said offhandedly, reaching under to grab the hoodie

“Y-YOU CAN’T JUST SNOOP AROUND MY ROOM LIKE—”

You pulled the hoodie free, smirking at his guilty reaction. “Now how did this get down there?”

“I-I . . . I don’t know.” For once his voice is small; defeated

“You don’t, now?” You took note of how neatly he had folded the black cloth, undoing it in your hands and holding it up to see. “I’ve been looking for this for a while.”

For once, Bakugou is speechless. He’d been caught, and now all he could do was wait for your reaction and what you would do next

“You know, if you wanted this one, you could have asked,” you said, standing. “It’s not like I have a shortage.”

Katsuki had shoved his hands in his pockets, glowering at the floor in an attempt to avoid your gaze

“Does it still even smell like me?” you pondered, more to yourself since you weren’t expecting an answer. You pressed the collar to your nose and inhaled

You were able to detect a tiny hint of yourself still clinging stubbornly to the fabric, but mostly it was laced with him

A quick image of him sleeping in it flashed in your mind and you blushed, glancing from your boyfriend to the floor

“Well, you can give it back when you want,” you said, folding it up again and laying it on his bed. “If you ever want another one, you can tell me.”

You knew him by now. You know it would have been hard for him to have asked you for something like this. So, for the time being, you decided to go easy and drop the subject

The both of you went back to your studies, but this time, Bakugou was a little more silent and reserved than usual

The following month, you made sure to give him every opportunity you could to allow him to take another hoodie

You’d leave your closet doors open and leave the room for extended periods of time while he was in there, making up lame excuses for your absences

Whenever you came over to his room, you might ‘accidentally’ leave a little something behind for him

Sure enough, things would begin to disappear and reappear seemingly on their own. Even though you knew it was Katsuki, he was surprisingly sneaky about it

Finally one day, you visited him at his house over one of your breaks from school

He answered the door in a t-shirt you immediately recognized as your own, and your heart soared

You knew he did it on purpose, and the smirk he bore at your pleasantly surprised expression only offered further proof

BAKUGOU LOVES STEALING YOUR HOODIES AND YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. ONCE HE GETS OVER THE INITIAL ‘oh crap, is this weird? Dang it, I like them’ IT’S OVER

Bonus: Every time he gives them back they still smell like him, even though he’s the type to wash them before giving them back

____________

Kirishima:

It all started one particularly cold evening

He was out in a temperature just above freezing in nothing but his regular street clothes

Baby, you hot, but like . . . that’s not enough, please keep yourself warm

N e wahys, after pestering him multiple times asking if he was at all cold, he finally admitted to having a bit of a chill

“Take my jacket.”

“But I’m being manly—”

“Take it.”

“I shouldn’t be taking it from you. Really, it’s my fault so you shouldn’t have to suffer—”

“It’s manly to take care of yourself. And also to accept gifts when you need them. You’re wearing my jacket.”

After a bit of coaxing, he finally pulls it on

*cue his universe falling into place*

He just can’t get over how warm and comfortable and soft it is, and every moment he sees it around him, he’s reminded of you

He goes from one extreme to the other, and now he doesn’t want to take it off

“So are you going to give that back to me or—?”

“Actually, can I keep it for a bit longer?”

“Sure.”

Under the initial circumstances, it makes him a little blushy

But like, this is now his everything???

It’s like you’re always there to give him a little hug, and it even smells like you. He sleeps in it every night for nearly two weeks

But then it starts to lose your scent, and his mind begins to wonder what else you might have in your closet

He goes to your room and sheepishly broaches the topic, giving back the original jacket and asking if he could have another

You smile at how flustered he is, and allow him full access to your extensive collection

Bby boi is so pumped to be able to wear your shirts and sweaters, and always tries to return the favor if he can

I headcanon that he has a pretty strong personal scent, so it’s really nice to wear his clothes, or even just re-wearing your own clothes once he gives them back

He gets extra cuddly and fluffy whenever he wears something of yours as well, so REAP YOUR BENEFITS WHERE YOU CAN

____________

Kaminari:

He’s the most open with it, honestly

Seriously, having an s/o who is taller than him makes his heart do the BIG doki doki

He thinks you’re so cute! And so much fun to hug!! Yes please, sign him up

He hadn’t really thought too much about taking your hoodies or jackets, but one night, he had taken yours from you to go hang it up. Holding it up to his, it dawned upon him that they were the same size

Next thing he knew, he was raiding your closet in secret. You’d left your room to go grab some snacks for your gaming night and Denki had decided that that was the perfect time for him to strike

He wasn’t overly concerned with getting caught, but he enjoyed entertaining the idea of you finding one of your t-shirts stolen by none other than himself

He truly had hit gold, dating someone like you. Upon opening and rooting through your closet, he discovered even more clothing articles that would certainly fit him; hoodies, jumpers, t-shirts . . . .

It was almost overwhelming, to be honest. How could he possibly pick just one?

You came back into your room a few minutes later, catching him in the act of eyeing a small pile of your own clothes

You watched him silently from your door for a minute, eyes flicking from your closet to your boyfriend, who had held up an old oversized hoodie to his chest

The dots were easily connected in your head, and you smirked

“Finding something you like?” you asked, making him jump and turn around to face you. You could almost have sworn to have seen a little crackle of electricity run down his arm from his own surprise

“(Y/N)! Yeah, um, I noticed the other day that we were the same size, so I was curious about . . . what you had . . . .”

He watches your reaction, relieved to see you smirk and walk over to him

“Try that one on,” you say, referring to the hoodie

He grins back, sliding it over his head as you watched

It was so comfortable, and warm too. You had good taste

The hoodie smelled like you and everything. Denki allowed himself to relish for a moment the feeling of something of yours softly encasing him so

Yep, there was no way he was taking it off

You let him keep it, butterflies making their flighty rounds in your belly every time you glanced over at him

He looked cute in it, and the fact that he was wearing something of yours further stirred a feeling in you that he was truly yours to love

Definitely makes a habit of taking your clothing from time to time—anything he can get his hands on is his, sometimes experimenting with your differing style from his

Very very soft, 10/10 cuddle and spoon your smol bf

°˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖°

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

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insufferablelust · 4 years

Text

The dying and Its blossoming.

The one where Y/N love Spencer Reid, but soon find out that he might or might not have found someone else.

OKAY HELLO, this is the angst i talked about yesterday, it’s sad.. but has a happy ending so don’t cry just yet! anyway the reason why i write this is because i’ve been numb for few days and i want to cry bad so i just decided to write. And this is what i came up with, it made my soft ass cried so hopefully.. it can get through to you too, happy reading! oh and TAAHM is also uploading soon!

MASTERLIST OF ALL MY WORKS.

WARNINGS : ANGST, heartbreak stuff, fluff at the end, thats it i think!!

————🍃————

It was the little things he did that caught your eyes since you joined the team. The way he first introduced himself to you, shaking your hands with the brightest smile beaming on his face. The way he always put a coffee on your desk before you arrived. The way he would review all the case with you, going over the files together and staying late to work on paperworks together. The way he called you a week after Maeve’s death and asked you to stay on the phone. So on and so forth.

Falling for Spencer Reid is inevitable, how can it not be inevitable? when you and him practically do all things together, Dr Who marathons, Drive to Rossi’s, even accompanying him to Vegas one time to visit his Diana.

The first time you felt it, felt the spark— you shook away your thoughts and scoffed at yourself, it’s just a stupid crush. You tried, tried so hard to believe that it was just a stupid crush. Yet the more time you spent together, the more your heart take over your brain, convinced you to love him, and convinced you to think that he’s in love with you. Truth and confession aside, you could’ve sworn he’s in love with you, these are facts right? all these moments? surely it has to mean something to him, like it meant something to you.

Confuses and frustrated, the next person you called was Emily, your closest friend besides Spencer. She knows how head over heels you are for him, and how much you’re willing to do anything for him. So that night you spilled all your confusions and worries as you sipped on your wine, your teeth constantly biting your nails— if Spencer was here, he would’ve told you that “Y/N, do you know that biting your nails—“ and you would listen to him contently even if you already knew what he was about to say.

“It’s just— i’m not crazy to think he loves me back right? or at least like me?” You stresses, chugging down the last bit of your drink as you hear Prentiss chuckled on the other side.

“What? No Y/n, look i’ve practically grown up with you guys, and all i can say is that you both really need to realize how much you actually need each other, so stop worrying, go get your man.”

Now when Emily said that, she didn’t mean it as literally going over to Spencer’s house like what you were doing right now. Only wearing an oversize sweater and pair of jeans, you looked so comfy inside those sweater paws that you let out an annoyed huffed, ‘now he’ll think i’m a child’ then an idea popped inside your head, causing a big cute smile to appear on your cheeks. Your hand reached to the backseat, sighing when you find what you were looking for; Spencer’s purple sweater.

Now you didn’t stole it, he gave it to you, because you’ve mentioned one morning that “They are all sold out Spence! you’re one of the lucky ones” The annoyed look on your face must be so embarrassing that he gave his godforsaken lilac sweater to you the next day, with the Spencer reid’s famous smile “Here, you can keep it, i already washed it but it’ll probably smells like me still cause i smell like my clothes and i used my—“

“Lavender, you always use lavender for your clothes, i remember Spencer! oh my heavens! Thank you.” You can’t forget how seemingly happy he looked, cheeks flushed, as flushed as yours.

You sighed contently at the thought, as you exited your car, clutching his sweater on your chest as you head up to his apartment. Now you see, if the plan does work you’ll just say that you need for him to wear it again because the smell starting to wear off, which made you giggle. So you jog upstairs quickly to his apartment door before knocking, “Spencer?”

You frowned, usually he always opened his door right after you knock, why’s he taking so long? so out of worry you knock few times “Hello? Spencer?” this time you were met by voices of two people, giggling and hushing each other, as they got closer, you giggled in thought ‘maybe you’ll find garcia there who knows?”

But the moment someone opened Spencer’s door your eyes went wide, and your brain tries to make a sense out of what you’re seeing. Here standing in front of you is a girl, a stunning woman you’ve neither met or recognized but one thing you recognized is how well Spencer’s sweater clung on her body, and how happy she looked while she’s standing on his door wearing his clothes with his mug in hand.

“May i help you?” She asked with a smile, you could see the blue colored scrub bottom on her, A surgeon, judging by her uncharacteristically warm welcome, you guessed pediatrics. Damn it Y/N no time for profiling.

“Is spencer he—“

“Who is it, love?”

Oh... so this is why he canceled your usual movie night two days ago, this is why he’s been saying he’s busy when you asked him to drive you to your usual hangout library, this is why he’s been so happy recently.. this is the reason. a mid 20 possibly 30 years old gorgeous Surgeon with a warm smile and impossibly sweet attitude.

“Uh i think she’s your friend from work, Y/N right?”

You concluded then and there that you don’t like how she said your name, it was selfish but you hated how kind it sounds whilst you’re here standing in front of her, eyes glassy and lips trembling. Then when you thought you’ve seen it all, your eyes locked with Spencer, he— looked so content and comfortable, happy. He looked so happy with his...

“Y/N, hi what are you doing here so late? oh and Y/N meets (G/N) and (G/N) meets Y/N, she’s my best friend from work”

So thats what you were, Best friends who acts like a couple, best friends who hold hands, best friends who shared a drunken kiss, best friends who poured everything to each other, best friends who— you can go on and on yet you can feel how tight your chest is becoming, Anxiety— fuck you have to get out of here.

“Y/N?”

“I-i, uh here’s your um sweater, i— figured you might want uh it back, alright i gotta go now.” Spencer didn’t missed how your hand trembles so bad when you handed him the sweater, or how glassy your eyes looked, or how your face looked like it was drained of color, and how you struggled to breathe, her anxiety attacks.

“Y/N wait!” Before he could mention anything, she went down quickly and running towards her car.

“What was that all about?” His girlfriend asked him, which he shook his head in reply, and muttered “no idea, let me check” So he went down, to no surprise, her car was speeding away.

What Spencer didn’t know was that Y/N came home wishing she could’ve been smart enough to noticed the damn signs, or smart enough to never let her heart fooled her into thinking a genius, a guy like him would ever have any feelings for her.

She went to the bathroom, not bothering to wash her face instead she sat down near the sink and then she cried, she hugged her knees and Y/N cried that night, cried so hard that she tire herself out, falling asleep on the floor of her bathroom.

——————

The next morning, she woke up with a headache that’s practically yelling at her to take some meds and drink, her eyes opened slowly as she found herself laying on the cold bathroom floor. Slowly she tried to get up, holding onto the nearest wall as she feel her knees buckled and her head pounding, she let out string of curses before managing to stand fully, leaning over the sink to see herself in the mirror.

The sight is terrifying, her eyes bloodshot red, her face looks dull drained of color, her lips dry, her hair is a mess and her nose is runny. She continue to stare at her misery some more until her phone rang, flaring up the headaches. Great.. Must be a fucking case.

“Hello?” She mentally cringed hearing herself, she doesn’t sound like herself, she sounded like she just drank 30 bottles of alcohol then managed to broke her vocal cords.

“Hi... Y/N are you okay?” Emily’s voice was soothing at least, she sighed as she gulped down an aspirin and took some clothes out of her closet.

“Yeah, We have a case?” She knew that Emily would dig up the conversation more if she didn’t jumped straight to the point, and Y/N is in no mood to talk.

“Yes, wheels up in 40 but if you cant—“

“I’ll be there in 10.”

—————

Y/N took a quick shower, before putting on your work pants, a simple V-neck t-shirt and top it with a blazer, quickly gulping the rest of her water before combing her hair and then head out the door. When she parked her car, her memory drove back to last night, causing her to groan in mental and physical pain— tears welling in her eyes as she violently hitting the steering wheel.

“Not now, Not fucking now.” She closed her eyes before leaning back against the headrest and take a deep breath, calming herself down. She prayed to herself that she won’t break down if she sees Spencer.

She won’t break down.

She keep chanting that inside her pounding head as she walked out of the elevator, entering the bullpen, quickly grabbing her go bag and place it on top of her desk before heading upstairs to the meeting room.

She knew where he usually sit, so when she entered the room, she tried her best to look at Garcia, presenting the case. “Sorry i’m late, traffic is a damn bitch, Double homicide Garcia?” She asked, as she sit down between Emily and JJ, looking down at her files, noticed how stupid she was to use files instead of the tablet which she refused so she could review the cases with Spencer on the plane, Now look who’s laughing. What she didn’t realized realized is that all eyes were on her disheveled looking state, no amount of make up could cover the misery, i suppose.

“Yes, we’re thinking surrogates for a blond woman with wealthy family. Y/N are you okay?” She visibly tensed, hearing his voice is like opening up a fresh wound and pour some acid on top. She wished he could just shut up and not talk to her anymore, not now or in few days at least.

“Fine. Garcia, any other leads?” Y/N looks up to Garcia, to find her with a frown on her face, clearly wanting to say something. But Y/N has the pleading look in her eyes, and the way she tilted her head made Garcia shook her head and replied with a small “Nuh uh thats it, the rest is on your file” Nodding at her with a silent thank you, you get up and left the room, which in other cases Emily won’t appreciate but she let it slide because she knew something’s wrong.

“Y/N” Not him again, you muttered on your head, as you zipped up your go bag.

“Y/N..” Then he touched you, touched your arms, he touched you and you exploded, all your willpower ceased to exist as you swat his hand away and giving him a warning.

“Don’t touch me unless necessary, don’t talk to me unless it’s about the case, and do not call me by my first name, it’s agent Y/L/N, have a good day Dr.Reid”

—————

Throughout the entirety of the case, neither you nor spencer talk to each other, only piling up opinions about the case, the team have caught the unsub of course, so now you’re heading back to DC.

The longer you sit on the very opposite end to where Spencer sit, your mind started to wonder back to what happened three days ago. Being on the case has definitely helped distract you from the reality that Spencer Reid has a girlfriend and that you’re a fool to ever believed that he could love you. You’re so deep in thought whilst looking at the soft curls of his hair, you didn’t realized Emily has sat down next to you.

“A girlfriend?”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend doesn’t he?” Your eyes darted to Emily’s as you sighed heavily, closing your eyes and leaned your head against her shoulder. “She’s a surgeon, pediatrics i think, she probably smarter than i am, um she smile a lot and she’s holding a cup of coffee when i arrived so i’m guessing she’s a nice person, there’re cat fur on her hair so i guess she has a cat which he should’ve hate being a germaphobe and all but i guess she love that kind.” Y/N half whispered half yelled, as she stared at his poking head still that is before she heard Emily burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N you profiled her?”

“Em!” You whined as you shove her shoulder, you crossed your arms on your chest as you huffed and pout like a child. “I’m sorry it’s just.. oh god you even notices cat hair” She laughed again, which caused you to laugh loudly, feeling the joy overcome you in full force before you started to cry, not knowing why. Tears kept on falling down your face as Emily hugged you and rubbing your back “Its okay, let it out sweet girl. I got you.” That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

—————

It’s been a week since the last case, you’re finally able to hold yourself up and not cry every 2 hours is an achievement. You spent your time on an autopilot mode, woke up, work, avoid Spencer depending if there’s a case or not, then lunch, cried in the bathroom, paperwork, avoid Spencer, return home, cried again watching Dr Who, falls asleep, woke up and repeat. That’s how you’ve been for a week, and you know how difficult it is to move on but you’re trying and thats what matters.

Knock knock

You furrowed your brows at the sound, Emily wasn’t supposed to be here until 2 PM, so why’s she visiting now at.. 11 am? You sighed as you put down your tub of ice cream and opened the door only wearing your pajamas since its sunday.

“Emily, its way to early to— Dr.Reid?” You can’t believe your eyes when you see a very nervous looking Spencer at your door, your heart still thump hard at the sight of him which you whined at inside— you still love him after everything. Damn it. You took a deep breath as you heard him say your name, before moving backwards to slam the door at his face,

“No! no no wait Y/N hear me out! please!” His voice cracks as he hold the door so you won’t have a chance to slam it in his face.

“What the fuck do you want? Is being an asshole and destroying my life enough for you?” You half yelled, as you turn around and let him see your angry tears. You were so mad at him, you hated him so much, yet you still love him just as much if not more.

“I know, i know you hate me and i deserved it. But please hear me out, you deserve explanation.” His voice are quivering, signaling he was about to cry as you chuckle darkly,

“Damn right i am. But i’m done, done with your games, i can’t keep up with you— i will never be enough and you have.. have someone so please just go and i’ll forget this will ever happen” You plead as your voice soften, you’re just exhausted, you want it to stop, you want to stop hurting. So you shoved him away before pushing the door,

“I love you! I’ve always loved you.” Your movement froze as you hear him continue, your tears still falling freely from your eyes

“The only reason why.. why i dated her is so that i can get over you. I thought.. i thought you’ll grow tired of me soon, and i don’t want to be the one who’s hurt so i.. i found her but i love you, i never stopped”

“You cant just assumed things like that Spencer! You can’t. You should’ve asked me you should’ve told me!” You’re full on yelling now as you let him in, god your neighbors is going to hate you.

“I know! I know but i never handled rejection well and you know that! everyone left me, my dad, Gideon, Morgan, Emily at one point, Hotch, and maybe my.. mom soon. I’m sorry Y/N, i really am, i’m— i’m sorry for being such a coward, for not telling you, for not—“ You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in a desperate ‘i love you’ manner, you didn’t care, you just love him, and he could be lying but why? why would he be lying? You pulled back as you stare at him

“Have you end it?”

“5 days, 17 hours, and 28 minutes ago” You chuckled, the first time you chuckled after such a long time, as you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

“I love you too..” You whispered, causing him to hug you tightly as you both sob into each other’s arms, whispering I love you’s again and again like it’ll never be enough.

“I love you, Y/N Y/l/N, i swear.”

“I love you, sorry about calling you an asshole” You laughed nervously before he chuckled and leaned to push you on the couch, “You might have to make it up to me..” He teased, and you let out a grunt. “Fine, Blow jobs for a week anywhere you want..” His face beamed and he blushes before tickling you, “Deal, Baby.”

“Wait Spencer so does this mean—“

“Y/N, will you be the girlfriend of this asshole?” You let out a tear before nodding and tackling him to the couch to hug him tightly “yes, yes, yes i will” He kissed your lips quickly, reaching for his satchel and pull out a lilac sweater,

“I believe it’s yours”

“Like you’re mine?”

“Yours, always.”

——————

blurb requests are open! send some in, any genre is fine, and please like + reblog! if you have any constructive criticisms or feedback please private message me, thanks!

#spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagines #insufferableblurb

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tiifalockhart · 3 years

Text

Safety

@wistful-wings asked: Since you asked, request time! :D Somehow a degrading Genesis winds up in a soft warm bed with someone looking after him because damn he's sick the guy needs some love and care damnnit.

Pairing: Genesis x Reader

Warnings: mentions of starving, death, trauma, depression and anxiety.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I have finally delivered the Genesis content. Hope this is okay!! Thank you so much for your request, feedback is always appreciated!

Ao3 || Masterlist

Everything was cold.

His skin was cracking, his fingertips were permanently cold, his hair and features had all turned an ash grey. It was a curse: living a life where Genesis already knew his fate. No matter how hard he fought, he was trapped in a shell that was falling apart. He fought like hell to end up losing to himself.

Every day, breathing became more and more of a chore. His on-setting depression began to consume him. Sephiroth’s words from Nibleheim rang in his mind unendingly, he was constantly reminded of what he was to become.

“You will rot.”

One of his only friends throughout his life, his partner, his idol (no matter how much he hated to admit it now) had destroyed him with those three simple words. He felt like shit. Genesis ruined everything... Now Angeal was dead, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be found. All of this for revenge... If he had quietly left, maybe they would still be alive, maybe they would have come with him.

As much as he hated Shinra for what they did to him and the others... It certainly wasn’t worth losing everything.

For years, he had been hiding from anyone and everyone. He was afraid to show his face, the shame and guilt of what he’d done consumed him. What would Angeal do if he were still alive? He would have turned himself in... Or something like that, wouldn’t he? Dammit. It was conflicting... Genesis was so unsure of himself majority of the time now.

He was so cold and lonely, his body was failing him in more ways than one, and his intrusive thoughts certainly didn’t make the long and dreadful days go by any faster. Life was... Painful to say the least. Genesis managed to find a cave to hide in, somewhere where the sunlight wouldn’t give him migraines, where the public eye couldn’t find him, he felt surprisingly safer in that cave than he did with his own thoughts. He struggled to find peace, his mind screamed at him over and over about how he was a monster, how he killed his friends and how he deserved this unbearable fate.

Eventually, the pain of existing became too overwhelming one day, and he found himself wandering through Midgar aimlessly, trying to find some kind of release from this dreadful life. He thought it was the end for sure this time, his coughing had gotten worse, his limbs were weaker than ever, his skin was pale and his hair was the color of the Modeoheim snow. He didn’t have enough power within himself to perform a fire spell to attempt to warm himself up again. He knew this was the end. Maybe... It was for the better.

When he blacked out finally, no one would have ever known he was gone. Genesis was a distant memory at this point, who would have cared about his disappearance? He prepared himself to face the meaningless afterlife, to be rejected by the Lifestream and simply float out to nonexistence.

So, when he heard that gentle voice coaxing him back to life and reality, confusion hit him like a truck. Genesis thought he was dead for sure this time, so why was it he could hear a voice calling out to him?

“-ello?”

“Are you okay?”

“Wake up, you’re safe now.”

Confusion flooded Genesis’ features when he stirred. He wasn’t floating aimlessly in the Lifestream... He was alive still... Somehow. His eyes examined the room around him. He appeared to be in a bedroom, small potted plants and knick-knacks decorating the open space. Next to him, he noticed you sitting in a chair, a look of concern decorating your features. Once he was full aware and all his senses returned to him, he sat up quickly, a distrusting glare taking over his features.

“Where am I?!” He demanded, staring over at you. You raised your hands in surrender automatically, your eyes widening at his sudden outburst.

“You’re... You’re in my house. I saw you passed out, I thought you were hurt-” You explained hurriedly, sitting back in your seat. “I made you food... And brought some water.”

He raised a brow and glanced over at the plate and cup sitting on the bedside table. From what he could see, it was already better than anything he had been eating for the past years. Hesitantly, he relaxed a little, nodding lightly. “Thank you.” Genesis muttered softly.

A sigh of relief left your lips as he seemed to calm down. “Are you feeling okay? Do you feel sick? Maybe weak?” You asked, examining him for any injuries. He shook his head slowly, frowning slightly.

“No, I feel normal.” He lied, even though his mind was racing with thoughts. Why did you take him in? Why did you trust him? It didn’t make sense. Do you not know who he is? He was bewildered from your... Normal response to him.

You nodded awkwardly in response. “Well... You can make yourself at home until you’re ready to go.” You stated, standing and heading towards the closet. “I have some old clothes that might fit you. You can also use the bath if you wish.” You explained, placing a couple of towels on the foot of the bed, along with an oversized sweater and sweatpants combo. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought you here... I couldn’t leave you there, though.”

Genesis looked over at the outfit and towels, narrowing his eyes slightly. Now you’ve decided to take care of him? He didn’t deserve it, he was a murderer, a manipulator, a... Monster. Monsters don’t deserve to be taken care of. He pushed those thoughts away quickly, attempting to find his voice once again. “Thank you.” He responded, his voice sounding strained. It sounded like he was forcing it out.

However, you didn’t waver. You simply assumed it was him struggling to be thankful, which was fairly naïve. How were you supposed to guess that he was having an internal battle between his confusion and his intrusive thoughts? “Well... I’ll be downstairs. Dinner will be ready soon, you should come downstairs after you bathe, if you’d like.” You explained, nodding awkwardly.

Genesis didn’t respond this time. He was unsure of what to say. The tension in the room simply grew thicker the longer you stayed there, so you left fairly quickly. After the door closed again, Genesis let out a breath of relief as he pushed himself off the bed and stumbled over to the mirror. His hair was still white, all color had vanished from it. His dark circles, his pale complexion, his colorless eyes all stayed the same. No wonder you brought him in, he looked like he was on the brink of death. He let out a shaky breath as he pulled away from the mirror, unable to stand looking at himself anymore. Instead, he distracted himself with moving to the bathroom. Walking was a chore in itself, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else at the moment. Dammit, why was he so weak? He used to fight battles back to back, now he can barely walk a few steps without feeling like collapsing.

After finally reaching the bathroom, he took his time with bathing, appreciating the feeling of warm water flowing down his back. The scar on his back appreciated it too, it didn’t sting when the water hit it just right. It was... Nice. His sore muscles could relax a little, while his limbs slowly regained their strength. Once he was out of the shower, he pulled on the loose clothing, silently appreciating the looseness and comfort of them.

Just as you requested, Genesis arrived downstairs awhile after the two of you parted. His eyes scanned over everything in the house, he noticed small mementos from your family and friends, picture frames of different people, random things that managed to explain the type of person you are. He also noticed that the small dining table was set for two people, you and himself he assumed. Out of everything he noticed though, you were nowhere to be found. He checked the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room once again. There were no traces of you anywhere. A confused expression settled on his features, until he heard the front door open. Hesitantly, he entered the room and raised a brow once he saw you.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you would be done so quickly.” You pointed out, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips. “I was just feeding the street cats.”

“I was in there for an hour.” Genesis mentioned, which caused your cheeks to obtain a light shade of pink. “You feed... The street cats?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, a lot of them get dropped off here. It’s really sad, so I make sure I feed them every morning and every evening.” You explained, guiding him back to the dining room. “I decided to go ahead and do it, I figured you’d be longer than an hour.” You added, heading into the kitchen as Genesis took a seat at the table. He found you to be such a curious creature... You were kind to everything, no matter what its background may be. He watched you closely as you worked, his eyes following you as you returned to the table.

You carefully placed an extravagant meal in front of him, a shy smile forming on your lips. It consisted of steak (behemoth meat), along with other healthy sides. He stared in amazement as you placed the final item, a small basket of bread, in front of him. “I usually don’t eat like this... I figured today would be the day I make something nice.” You explained awkwardly, taking a seat across from him. “Feel free to eat as much as you like, or as little. The rest will be used as leftovers for myself or the cats.”

Once you began to serve yourself food and eat, Genesis finally snapped out of his daze and followed along, serving himself relatively small portions at first. He wanted to taste everything first, before digging into his favorites. Unfortunately for him, though, he found everything to be absolutely delicious, it was the best food he’s had in years, even when he was working at Shinra. He finally gave in and decided to fill his plate with everything, hoping that he could eat it all.

The two of you stayed in silence most of the meal, you didn’t seem to mind that Genesis wasn’t interested in conversation. He was grateful for that, his face was so full the majority of the time that there was no time to speak. Somehow, the two of you managed to finish the meal on your own. Genesis felt like he was on the verge of a food coma by the end of the meal. He was beyond thankful at this point, you had done so much for him with no questions asked, you were quite literally a gift from the goddess.

When you were cleaning up, Genesis decided to show his thankfulness a little. He helped you carry the dishes into the kitchen, and he offered to clean them as you wiped down the table. To you, it was a sweet stranger, especially from a stranger like him. You could sense him beginning to trust you, which calmed your nerves a little more. The odd factor was the fact that the two of you had hardly spoken at all. Besides a couple small exchanges of words, it was mostly silent between you both. It was a little unnerving, but you couldn’t think of anything to fill the void with, so you simply dealt with it.

As the night rolled in, the awkward silence that you and Genesis had slowly developed into a comfortable silence. You ended up introducing him to the cats outside, but he appreciated them from afar. You also offered some books he might like to read, he was uninterested in them. Eventually, it was getting too late and you were fairly exhausted.

“I’m going to sleep soon. You’re free to do whatever you wish... If you stay, that’s okay, but you also don’t have to stay.” You explained, looking back at him from the stairs.

He raised his brows, a heavy feeling forming on his heart. “...Are you sure? That you don’t mind me staying.” Genesis asked, his tone a bit quieter and sensitive.

You smiled in response to this. “It’s your decision. I don’t mind having you around.” You answered, giving him a reassuring nod. He hesitated and looked away, a conflicted expression forming on his face. You took this as the end of your conversation and continued up the stairs.

“Wait!” He called out, taking another step up. “I didn’t really say thank you.” He stated, furrowing his brows. “I... I don’t know how I can make it any more genuine. But seriously, thank you for everything.” Genesis murmured, looking down at the floor.

A soft laugh left your lips, which caused him to look back up at you in confusion. “Why thank me? I’ve just treated you like a house guest.” You pointed out, snickering. “You’re welcome... I guess? I thought what I did was bare minimum...” You muttered the last part to yourself, before shaking your head and looking back at him. “I’ll do better tomorrow!” You decided, a determined look in your eyes.

For what felt like the first time in awhile, a smile formed on Genesis’ lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a deceiving grin, it was a genuine and heartfelt smile. It felt... Weird. He liked it. Maybe he’ll stay for longer then... “I’m looking forward to it, then.” He responded, matching your lighthearted banter.

The both of you stood still for a moment, as if finding some way to continue, before you finally broke the silence again. “Well... I should get some sleep to prepare for tomorrow. See ya.” You waved down at him, before heading off to your room for the night.

Genesis couldn’t really describe the feelings he felt at that particular moment, but he knew that staying was a better idea. A fresh start... Maybe it won’t last for so long, but it was a nice break, especially since the position he’s in currently isn’t exactly the best. Or maybe... He didn’t have to explain himself. He was going to stay because he wanted to.

He felt safe with you, and that’s all that mattered.

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Forty-Three) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Kidnapping, death, torture, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 20,827

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 17 + 18. Three months after part forty-two.

I was… miserable. I felt like this big bubble that was waddling and bumping into everything, and I was entirely useless when it came to cases. Since the Appalachian Trail case, Hotch and I had decided that I would stay out of the field once I started to show; but now that I was bubble-size pregnant, he told me that it was either I stayed in the office with Garcia or I went home and rested in bed. Those were my only two options. There was no getting on the jet with the team, no wandering to the grocery store on a random Sunday, no escaping to get lunch with someone. Nothing. If I didn’t have food in the office, Anderson had to go get it for me. Poor guy.

But, honestly, I wasn’t even fighting Hotch on it anymore. I knew that I wasn’t going to be any help out in the field considering my feet hurt if I was standing for too long. I couldn’t imagine the next three months—at least. JJ and I were talking one day, and she told me to save my strength, because the cliché nine months was more like ten months, if my doctors knew what they were doing. Ugh. I just wanted this part to be over with. I hated feeling stagnant and useless. I liked going out into the field, working on the profiles, chasing the Unsubs, saving the victims. That was my life. And now I had to put that all aside for about another three months or so. It was worth it, though. Every single day that I was miserable was still worth it because it meant that before we would know it, we would have our baby in our arms. I could live with being bored and sick all the time just for that.

Hotch pitied me somewhat, however, and he really sucked at hiding it. He knew that I wanted a child, and he knew that I was excited—just as he was—but he also knew that I was itching to get back to work. Our deal was for my own benefit, but it was probably going to kill me before anything else. I needed the field. So fucking bad. He knew it, Morgan knew it, Emily knew it— Everyone knew it.

So, Hotch and I decided to host a dinner party one Friday night. He liked cooking sometimes, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to do so in a very long time, so I was fine with the idea of having people over, though it was draining at times. I called Emily to see if she wanted to come over for the dinner with Morgan and Rossi, since they were the only ones available on the team. Spencer was headed to some Russian film showing, JJ was busy with Will and the kids, and Garcia had a date.

But when we invited Emily, she was almost hostile towards us. I mean, she never, ever brushed us off; but even then, this was so cold and offensive. I had never heard her like that before. When we called her, I greeted her warmly, but I was met with an inconsiderate: “Hi.” And that was it! As I explained that we were having a family dinner with our friends, she then said: “I really don’t have time for that shit, Y/N. I’ll see you at work.” And then she hung up on me. I scoffed while turning to Aaron, trying to decide if he had any answers or not. He didn’t.

At dinner, I brought it up to see if anyone else knew anything. There had to be a reason that Emily would snap at me like that, right? Come on, she would have never in a million years done that to me—or anyone else on the team. Even if she were busy, she would have been overwhelmingly kind and apologetic about not being able to come to dinner. Something was off.

“She was probably in the middle of something and just forgot to call back to apologize,” Morgan offered behind a mouthful of steak.

I shook my head. That wasn’t it. She specifically said she didn’t have time for my call and for dinner— or really any distraction. There was no hint to her calling back later. There was something else that we were missing, and if we didn’t figure it out soon, I was genuinely going to confront her about it. The thing with Emily Prentiss, however, was that she enjoyed her secrets, and she enjoyed playing her cards close to her chest. Prying hardly ever worked with her, but maybe if I tried just this one, and if it was really all that bad, she’d confide in me. I mean, back after New York when I was upset about JJ and Morgan doubting me and Hotch, Emily was the only person I could confide in, too. Maybe this one time I could be that for her.

“She has her bad days, too, Y/N; you can’t take it personally,” Rossi said.

But I was taking it personally. They hadn’t heard her voice, the way it was gruff, demanding, and angry. Yeah, it sounded like her mind was elsewhere, but that gave her no right to talk to me, her friend, like that. We weren’t the closest. I would be the first to admit that Emily Prentiss and I weren’t exactly sisters forever, but I still loved her dearly, and she loved me equally. We looked after each other. And ever since Hawai’i, when the team found out that I was pregnant, she was over the moon excited to meet my child. She couldn’t stop talking about it. All this time, I thought that Morgan and Garcia were going to be the aunt and uncle who would spoil them a ridiculous amount, but now I was starting to worry that it was actually going to be Emily doing all of the spoiling. That was concerning. But I still loved it. I loved that she was as excited as Hotch, Morgan, and I were. I was excited that I would get to see her, my friend, holding my baby.

“Give it a few days, baby,” Hotch said before downing a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “If she hasn’t cheered up by then, you could talk to her—or, if you want, I’ll talk to her, and make it seem like it’s in an official capacity so that she doesn’t feel attacked.”

I rolled my eyes. That wasn’t going to solve anything. She wasn’t snapping at Hotch, she was snapping at me. The more we discussed it, the more upset I got. I eventually pushed my plateful of food away from me and set my hands over my stomach as I reclined back. The boys didn’t notice how I had fallen silent as they finished up their meals, then Rossi offered to clean up the dishes while Hotch and Morgan worked together to plate up the brownies Hotch made that afternoon with some ice cream. Then, throughout dessert, they talked about sports. I shook my head and took my leave early to go lay down before it got too late.

----

In the morning, mine and Hotch’s alarms went off simultaneously. I groaned and rolled over to turn it off. As I struggled to push myself upright, I saw that Hotch was already awake and dressed, taking a few steps back over to his bedside table in order to turn off his alarm. Somewhat forgetting about what happened yesterday, I smiled at him. He smiled back shortly.

As I slid out from under the covers, Hotch hurried over to hold his arms out to make sure I wouldn’t fall over or hurt myself or something. I laughed at him while playfully shooing his hands away, then leaning up and in to kiss him delicately. He kissed me back until we couldn’t breathe.

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner,” I whispered against his lips.

He tangled his fingers in my already messy hair. “Good morning, Agent Hotchner.” He kissed my jawline until I threw my head back to give him clearer access to my neck. It wasn’t a sexual act. I mean, normally it was, and it had a tendency to get us both riled up; but the way he was only barely leaving kissed against me compared to nibbling until he left a noticeable hickey was enough to just let me relax and fall in love with him again and again. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Kinda.”

“Good…” He ran his hands over my arms until my shoulders relaxed, then he hugged me so that he could rub my back until my spine relaxed, and then he lastly trailed back to my stomach until my whole body felt at ease, and the only thought I had was about how much I loved him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After another minute or so, Hotch pulled away from me entirely so that he could kiss my lips one more time before heading back into the bathroom to gel back his hair. Feeling practically rejuvenated for the day, I wandered—or more like waddled—my way to our closet so that I could pick out my clothes. A whole new wardrobe was laid out in front of me. Some clothes, like the sweatshirt Elle bought for me years ago, were already so oversized that I could still fit into them. Everything else, however, had to be packed away in boxes for the time being in order to make room for my maternity clothes. I sighed. I missed my old work clothes. I missed hiding in Hotch’s college shirts. I missed debating what outfit looked professional enough for the office, but was also logistically smart if we had to go into the field with a snap of our fingers. Now, it was just a matter of what was comfortable.

Since Hotch pulled me out of the field a few months ago, the Bureau had officially benched me, too, because I was too much of a liability to be out and about, working on cases. I just wasn’t physically fit to go out chasing bad guys. So, six months pregnant me had to stay behind with Penelope Garcia in her lair of all things Smart. If I showed up in her office with even a single hint of black, she kicked me out until I went to go find something with color on it. She hated blandness. She hated that I liked blandness—especially right now since I just couldn’t fucking fit into anything else. But she was adamant about keeping her office a bright and lively place, so there was one weekend where she dragged me out to the mall to help me find more “Penelope-looking clothes”. However, the purpose of that day spiraled fairly fast. I had gone there for some clothes, meanwhile Garcia had gotten sidetracked and started buying every toy imaginable for the baby.

While I squinted a judgement at her in the checkout line, she got all defensive and said, “You and Hotch are just going to be too busy once my godchild pops out, you won’t have any time to go looking for toys. So, really, I’m doing you all a favor.”

No one had told her that we hadn’t decided on godparents yet. Honestly, I just didn’t know how, and I think Hotch was genuinely terrified of breaking that news to her. So, we decided to keep it on the downlow.

I grabbed the first thing I found in my closet, brought it back out to the bedroom, threw it on the bed, then started changing. Hotch came out of the bathroom to grab his gun from the safe in his bedside table. We had been working on baby proofing the house over the past couple of days. I mean, we always had safes in our drawers for our guns because we still had Jack, a six year old kid, running around. But now we had an extra lock on our bedroom door, we had those stupid plastic gates everywhere to make sure that the baby couldn’t go falling down the steps or something once they started crawling, and we put shitty child locks on the drawers. I really fucking hated it. It felt like we were turning our house into a baby prison. But Hotch insisted that it was the best thing to do, and it was inevitably going to keep the baby safe, so what did I know. At this point, my job was just to sit back and relax while Hotch panicked about everything because I simply did not have the time and energy to be as worried as he was. If it were up to me, I would have just put the crib in our room and called it a day. At least, until they were old enough to move into the nursery.

Still, I didn’t think all of these extra precautions were necessary when the plan was that I would be staying at home for at least three months after the baby was born—way longer than JJ stayed out of the office. Once I was back at work, Jessica offered to spend more time around the house since her job allowed her to do so; but we didn’t think that was necessarily fair to dump on her, so we were debating on whether or not to get a nanny. But that was so far in the future. The point was, our child was going to be watched like a hawk at all times. There wouldn’t be a single chance for anything bad to happen. However, I understood that Hotch was just trying to do what he did best, and that was protecting us. If he felt it was necessary—or even if it just put his mind at ease in a placebo-effect kind of way, I was willing to let him turn our house into a baby prison for the next few years.

Oh, gosh… The next few years…

“Baby,” Hotch spoke louder, like he had been trying to catch my attention before. I snapped out of my train of thought to look at him. “You okay?” he asked, furrowing his brows. I nodded. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was just lost in thought.”

I moved faster to get dressed. When I was done, I grabbed my gun from my drawer, too, holstering it on my hip, then I went to the bathroom to do my hair, wash my face, and brush my teeth. By the time I was gone, Hotch had woken Jack up and gotten him half-way ready for school. All Jack did these days was wake up, change into new clothes—which Hotch practically had to force him to do—and, if we were lucky, he would brush his hair. The rest of it was just shrugging off our questions. I was starting to worry that it was him acting out because we were a little focused on the baby, when Jack was normally used to getting all of our attention. We knew that this was possible. Older kids who could comprehend that they weren’t going to be an only child now had a tendency to act out like this because they felt like their parents were neglecting them. But I would never do that to Jack. I was trying my damn hardest to spend time with him and make sure he knew that he was still loved and that having a baby brother or sister wasn’t going to change that. He didn’t seem to believe me, though.

“Hey, bud, come on—” Hotch pleaded down the hall. He groaned in annoyance. “Jack. Please. Work with me here.” I heard him slap his hands against his sides like he had thrown his arms up in surrender, then was choosing to walk away from the conversation while worked up and frustrated. I snuck into the hall to see Hotch storming out of Jack’s room. He looked at me as he headed for the stairs. “You can try.” He started stomping downstairs.

I cocked a brow and slowly tiptoed down to Jack’s room, peeking in to see him dressed, but he was cuddled up with Red, our favorite toy dinosaur, on his bed. He was turned towards the wall so that I couldn’t see his face, but I could still tell by his body language that he was sad… He was trying to make it seem like he was mad about something, but he was just… sad…

“Jack?” I cooed, stepping into his room.

“Go away.”

I stopped. “Do you really want me to?”

Sincerely, if he wanted me to go away, I would have. I knew that this was all hard for him, and I knew that letting him feel his emotions was valid—and teaching him that was important. I wouldn’t always leave him alone like that, but sometimes it was better not to pry. If I were really the problem, and if he really wanted me to leave, it would have done more harm than good if I had stayed.

“No,” he whispered regretfully.

I continued approaching him, making my way to the bed until I was sitting on the edge. “What’s going on, little man?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true. What happened with Dad?”

“I told him that I didn’t want to go to school, and he got mad.”

“Why don’t you want to go to school?” I asked. Jack didn’t respond. “Huh?” I egged him on while brushing his hair back with my fingers. “Do you want a hug first?”

He nodded, and within an instant, he spun around and sat up, catching my neck in a tight embrace. I wrapped my arms around his torso and held him close. “I just don’t want to go today,” he cried into my shoulder. “Just one day.” He squeezed me tighter until his little arms were straining. “Why did he have to get mad?”

“Because he just wants what’s best for you, bud. He knows that school is good for you. All your friends, your teachers you love, art class, which you love, too. Don’t you want to see Mr. Feechi and show him your cool, new drawing?”

Jack nodded against me.

“Yeah. See? He knows you love it. So, I think he just got confused as to why you don’t want to go. I’m confused why you don’t want to go. Sometimes it’s just hard for him to sit down and talk with people when he gets stressed about a whole bunch of things at once.” I petted his hair and kissed his cheek. “But he still loves you. And I’m sorry he yelled at you. I’ll talk to him about it. But do you want to talk to me about school? About what’s really bothering you?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know why…”

“That’s okay. But it’s not a good enough reason to not go to school.” It was valid if he was sick, or if he needed a mental health day, even. But not going just because he didn’t want to, and not going because he didn’t know why… That wasn’t enough to keep him at home, which would keep me at home, too. “I’m sorry, little man.”

He sniffled and pulled away from me. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll always love me, right?”

I pouted and let out a choked sob as I tried to smile and stay positive for him. How could he ask me something like that? There was nothing he could ever say or do that would make me stop loving him, and there was no way Hotch would ever let me stop loving him in the first place. I loved Jack like he was my own. No. He was my own. He was my son, and he always would be. For the last three years, I got the gift of watching him grow, and his birth parents were kind enough to let me help raise him, too. I’d be forever grateful for that. Since I met Jack all those years ago, he had been my little man. No matter how big he got, he would always be my little man, and that was just a fact and a part of loving him as fervently as I did. He was my son… He was one of the loves of my life.

“Jack,” I brushed his hair back, “I will never, ever stop loving you.” I poked Red’s side. “You and Red are the brightest parts of my day. Whenever I’m scared while off working with Dad, I think about you and Red, and I think about how much I love you, and I know that I’ll be okay. If I ever stopped loving you, I wouldn’t feel okay and safe anymore.”

He moved to hug me again, this time with enough force that sent me back somewhat, making me giggle while catching him. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

After staying like that for a few moments longer, I patted his side and lifted him up onto his feet on the floor so that he could grab his things for school before making our way downstairs. Jack scurried over to his desk without a word. He started shoving everything he needed into the biggest pocket, not at all concerned with organization. How he was mine and Hotch’s kid, I’d never understand. But it certainly brought a smile to my face.

Once we dropped Jack off at school, I fiddled with my fingers as we pulled out of the parking lot in order to head to work. I was beginning to wonder if I made a mistake sending him to school today. Maybe he really just needed the one day. No. One day would turn into two days, and then three, and so on. I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t’ve been fair to him or me.

“You can’t yell at him like that, Aaron,” I said. He nodded. “You’re going to have to apologize to him tonight.” He nodded again.

Funnily enough, he was never this quiet around me. Usually, Hotch was a very reserved person who didn’t like talking to people unless he had to—and he definitely never opened up to anyone. But I was the exception. He could always talk to me, and he always made sure to be open with me. Therefore, I knew something was off.

I grabbed his right hand from the steering wheel, brought it to my lips, and gently kissed his knuckles. “Baby…” He hummed a questioning tone back to me in response. “What’s going on?”

He sighed as the car slowed at a red light. “I’m worried about Emily, too. I just didn’t know how to tell anyone because it’s my job to worry about you guys, and it’s my responsibility to keep things professional and not pry too far into people’s—”

“Hotch,” I stopped him before he could keep rambling, “it’s okay to be worried about your friend. I’ll talk to her today to figure this all out once and for all.” I kissed his knuckles again. “She’s probably okay.” I turned his hand over and kissed his palm. “I love you.”

He curled his fingers until he was holding my chin. He squeezed as we both smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re silly sometimes,” he teased.

“Only for you, my love.” I kissed his palm roughly before releasing him and turning back to watch the world pass by as we kept driving.

----

When we arrived on the sixth floor of the Quantico building, I meandered over to my desk in the bullpen, slumping and sighing as I did so. There was a picture of Jack sitting prominently on my desk, one that I had kept there since I moved in with him and Aaron a couple years ago, and I updated the photo every so often whenever it would become outdated. Jack was growing so fast. A few months ago, even, he would have never asked me a question like he brought forward that morning. He used to know that I would love him endlessly and unconditionally. Where did I go wrong? This had to be about the baby, right? I mean, he was probably getting worried that Hotch and I might love him less or something like that because we were going to have a baby—and maybe he was old enough now to assume that I would just love our baby more because they would be my own flesh and blood. But that wasn’t true.

Morgan cocked a brow at me from his desk. “Peanut, you okay?”

I nodded and leaned forward to put my computer passcode in. As the system started up, I saw the picture of me, Jack, Hotch, and Jessica together at the park the day Hotch proposed to me. The night before, we promised Jack that we would go on a bike ride together. So, after Hotch proposed to me just after we woke up, and… other things happened… we got up, showered, called Jessica to ask if she wanted to come with us, and the four of us made our way to the park where we biked around for about an hour or so before Jack decided he wanted to play soccer with Hotch. Around lunch time, as Hotch fell onto his back on the grass, and Jack landed on top of him, both of them laughing, I told Jessica what happened. She immediately brightened. She got all giddy and said, “Finally!” before throwing her arms around me. Then, she insisted that we take a family photo. She waved down a random jogger and practically shoved her phone into his hands while she called for Hotch and Jack to come over. We posed, but it was still chaotic. Jack was jumping on his dad for a piggyback ride, and I was trying my best to make sure that neither of them got hurt in the process. It was cute. We were all smiling—laughing, in fact—and it was absolutely genuine. There was nothing forced about the love we all shared for each other. There was nothing fake. I didn’t hate Jack. That photo was a reminder to myself that no matter what he thought of me, or no matter how much he could grow to hate me for one reason or another, I would never stop loving him. As I promised.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan continued to pry.

“Nothing.”

“Mhm. Sure. Try again.”

I rolled my eyes at him since I knew that this meant that he wasn’t going to let it go now. “Jack was having a bad morning, and he asked me if I’ll always love him. It’s just thrown my whole day off balance.”

“I’m about to make it even worse,” JJ said while passing our desks with a stack of case files in her arms.

The entire bullpen—excluding Emily, who seemed to be running late—groaned as we pushed ourselves to our feet and started meandering over to the roundtable room. After last night, I was expecting to talk to Emily before this would happen. I wanted… I wanted to just sort out if I was the problem or not. If I was, I wanted to know how I could mend things between us; and if it wasn’t about me, then what was it about, and how could I help? But, no. She wasn’t there, which was also incredibly unlike her. All of us happened to be late at one point or another. It was inevitable. However, there wasn’t a single day where Emily Prentiss showed up late or called in sick. No matter what was going on in her life, she was always there. Always. So, I was starting to grow even more concerned about her, which I’m sure everyone noticed as we sat down, because I could feel the color draining from my face as I took the seat facing both doors and the windows, just so that I could see her whenever she would come in.

In the meantime, JJ started circling the table while handing out the case files to each of us. When she arrived in front of the monitor once more, she began explaining the case as we knew all of the details to be, while simultaneously clicking the remote in her hand to show the slideshow that had photos from the crime scene—or, in this case, crime scenes.

Late last night, while everyone in D.C. was asleep, two homes were set on fire, killing the families inside. The only connection was the time. The fires took place within the same hour, but that was all. The homes were nowhere near each other—in fact, they were on complete opposite sides of the city. The oddest part, as Morgan noted, was that no one was reporting on this story, which was concerning considering the news ate up and spit out family tragedies like these all the time as if it were fun for them. Two identical fires in one night should have been like chumming the water for them. But nope. That was what caught JJ’s attention in the first place.

First, a couple and their son were found dead in the master bedroom of their home, all three shot through the forehead by the gun that happened to belong to the father. But, then, how did the fire start? Why did the fire start? If it was a murder/suicide, the odds that a house fire would catch shortly after was, at the very least, odd.

Then, the second couple all the way across town, were found dead in their living room after the house exploded due to a suspected gas leak. Still odd. Gas leaks purposefully smell like rotten eggs. If the family was up and doing something with fire—likely cooking—then how did the gas leak go unnoticed? Why didn’t an alarm go off? The report from the fire department in front of me indicated that there was a burglary, fire, and gas alarm in the house. They would have been notified before they could even smell the rotten eggs.

“What are the connections?” I inquired after falling short of noticing one in the files.

JJ shrugged. “There’s only one, and it’s… Well, it’s loose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the only connection between the families comes from the mothers—”

Just then, Emily came running into the boardroom in a rush. Her head was down, but I could see how frazzled she was. She started setting her things down frantically before pausing when she noticed how we were all watching her. “Sorry I’m late,” she apologized while taking her seat.

“Are you okay?” Hotch interrogated.

She shrugged, entirely disregarding his worry. “Yeah. JJ, as you were.”

What the fuck? That wasn’t like her at all. First, she didn’t tease us as she came into the room; then, when asked if everything was alright considering she was late for the first time since joining the team; and then she was formal with JJ. What happened to the Emily Prentiss who cuddled with Jennifer Jareau on the bed at my bachelorette party? What happened to the Emily Prentiss who would try to hide what was really going on with her by teasing me or Morgan—or even Spencer, someone she saw as her little brother. It was all so strange. Her behavior was only making me worry more, and now I could see it on Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi’s faces. Hotch clasped our hands together under the table. That was how bad it was. We had never, ever touched during a roundtable meeting.

“Um…” JJ hesitated, eyeing Emily carefully just like the rest of us. “We were discussing the two crime scenes—”

“I’ll get caught up later. Just keep going.”

JJ scoffed. “Okay.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the screen. “The only connection comes from the mothers, both of whom were born and raised in Europe.”

“That’s the only connection?” Hotch questioned warily. “That’s not much.”

“It’s all there is.”

Hotch sighed. “Okay… Rossi and Reid, you’ll take the first house. Morgan and Prentiss, head to the second. The rest of us will stay here and start looking through the files again and the families’ histories to see if we can find any other connection. There has to be something.” He released my hand, picked up his things from the table, stood, then quickly and quietly left the room.

Everyone started following his lead. Garcia and JJ immediately scurried off to Garcia’s office. Rossi and Reid turned for the back door that led to the ramp next to the break room, while Morgan and Emily moved for the front door that led to the bullpen. Before she could escape, however, I stepped just in front of her path, and threw my hands up in surrender so that she couldn’t get mad at me. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Wow. Was I really that bad? Whatever it was that was clearly going on in her life, was it really so bad that she had to take it out on me, the one person who had enough love for her to straight up confront her about what was going on instead of hiding like Hotch and Rossi were in their offices.

“Em, what’s going on with you?” I questioned sincerely. She didn’t say or do anything. “Can we talk somewhere privately?”

“I’m busy. Maybe later.” She pushed past me, barely brushing my shoulder like she still had enough decency to not actually harm me.

Fucking ridiculous. This was all so out of character for her, and she wasn’t letting anyone in to help her. Honestly, it was beginning to get on my nerves. Whenever I was in her shoes, something was going wrong in my life and I was bottling it up and taking out my frustrations on everyone else, Emily was the one person who could knock some sense into me. At least, that was what she had done after JJ pissed me off in New York. She looked me in the eye and said, “Screw them, Y/N. You don’t need anyone’s opinion but your own and Hotch’s.” Where was that Emily? That was the very same Prentiss that I knew and loved, and was going to be— No. That thought was for another time.

Garcia and JJ came back in, this time carrying laptops and stacks of files almost as tall as them. I hated desk duty. Absolutely fucking despised it. Hotch knew that I didn’t like being benched, he knew that it was hard for me to just sit around and do nothing while the team was out there getting a good look at the crime scenes and risking their lives. I should have been out there with them. I should have been by Morgan’s side, ready to jump in front of him if I had to; or I should have been with Emily so that I could get a read on what was really wrong with her. Honestly, at that point, I was even willing to go with Rossi and Reid, the two people on the team I hardly worked with. But, no. I had to be holed up all day in the office, and it was draining.

I had to grin and bear it, however, by taking a stack of files for myself and start flipping through all of them. Normally, I would be out there in the field, giving Reid a chance to stay back to read a mile a minute. I wished that were the case still. Between the three of us, it was going to take until at least lunch time to get through all of this information. Reid would have finished all of them on his own in, like, ten minutes— maximum.

Everything about the two families involved with these incidents were just as the cops and JJ described: Ordinary. They were all healthy, fit, and happy. There was no financial stress. No therapy bills or doctors visits outside of yearly physical checkups. Even their schedules were ordinary. Both parents went to work while the children went to school. However, the children went to different schools—one private and one public—and one was succeeding while the other was practically failing.

Their lives were as perfect as could be, which was in fact the one thing that was most suspicious.

“Hold on…” Garcia mumbled under her breath as she started typing on her loud keyboard faster. “Woah, woah, woah.”

“What is it?” I asked.

She pushed her seat back, grabbed her chair, then started speed walking out of the room. JJ and I shared a curious look. After a moment, I decided to chase after her. She was headed straight towards Hotch’s office, but he was actually coming out in order to meet us in the boardroom to see if we had come up with anything.

“So, something happened,” Garcia began as we approached Hotch on the balcony. He kept walking, so we followed. “No one’s talking about this. Still. Except for one guy who I caught attempting to post the article, but then it was pulled almost immediately—not before I could catch it, though.” She sounded so proud of herself.

“What do you want from me, Garcia?” he asked.

“With your permission, sir, I would like to track him down to see why it was that he pulled the article as soon as he posted it. Something’s fishy about all of this. Someone should have reported on this by now. Actually, there should have been a whole media blow up—pardon the pun—by now. I think he might know something about why there’s been complete radio silence on this.”

“Do it.”

“I’ll go to help you question him,” I offered. Garcia was tech savvy and extremely snippy and sassy, but she didn’t know how to profile. She could give us our in with this guy, but I could actually get information out of him. Garcia seemed to agree. She nodded and looked to Hotch hopefully, as did I.

“You can track him down and question him yourself, Garcia,” he said, half paying attention as he unpacked his papers to set them out on the table.

“Hotch—” I tried arguing. “That’s not fair—”

“Here and the house. Remember? That was the deal. It could be just the house, if you’re not careful.”

The whole room fell silent. Tension hung in the air as Hotch and I stared each other down. Just a few months ago, I promised Hotch that when the time would come, I would pull myself out of the field, and I wouldn’t throw a fit about it. I did that. But it wouldn’t hurt to drive down to the local newspaper to ask a journalist a few questions. This was a little too much. The deal was that I could go to the office, as long as I didn’t go into the field. Staying in town wasn’t “going into the field”. He had to budge on this. Right?

“No,” he finally said sternly.

I sighed and sat down, keeping my eyes away from him as everyone cautiously started moving back towards conversing about the case. That was incredibly embarrassing. For years, Hotch and I didn’t show affection at work, we didn’t argue like an old married couple, and we certainly didn’t bring up our deals or agreements in front of everyone. We didn’t discuss the fact that we made rules to not touch in front of people, or say “I love you” when the others were around. We didn’t talk about how we promised to never lie to each other. And we certainly didn’t talk about how we made a deal that I would only stay at the house or at the office. No one knew that. Since that day at the Park Rangers’ office, that had been our secret deal, and I wanted it to fucking stay that way; yet Hotch had the audacity to bring it up in front of the entire team. Not only was I frustrated about the situation he had stuck me in, but I was also frustrated with my husband now.

“I, um,” Morgan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I think I might have something here.” He handed the file he had been looking through over to Hotch. “Both of the mothers coached their sons’ soccer teams out on the Hill. They probably met that way.”

Reid shuffled from Gideon’s couch in the corner to the table we were all sitting around. “I found another connection, too. It’s in their phone records. Both moms, who happened to be from Europe and coached their sons’ soccer teams on the Hill, as Morgan mentioned, called the same number multiple times.”

“Give it to me,” Garcia said. After Reid read the phone number aloud, Garcia started digging through the identity of whoever it was that owned that number. “Byron Delaney—He’s British.” She stopped typing immediately.

Hotch looked at Morgan. “Go.”

Morgan got up and raced to the bullpen to tell Emily where they were headed and who it was they were visiting. Within the next minute or so, Hotch’s phone started ringing, causing him to sigh under his breath, collect his things again, and leave to take the call out in his office. The rest of us settled in our seats and started looking for a way to contact that reporter Garcia had talked about. I even decided to spend some time reaching out to newspapers as an “anonymous source” looking to give them an inside scoop on the story just to see if anyone would bite. Nothing. Everyone got back to me in the next thirty minutes or so just to tell me that the story wasn’t interesting enough for them to pursue. That was utter bullshit. Something was seriously wrong with this case, and the only one who could give us any answers was the reporter Garcia was hunting down.

“Where are Hotch and Rossi going?” JJ asked, looking through the windows of the roundtable room to see the two of them hauling ass out of the office.

We all shrugged.

Two minutes later, Hotch was calling Garcia to let her know what was going on. “Emily and Morgan were shot at by the Unsubs.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. How could he not tell us that immediately? “Are they alright?”

“They’re fine. They found Byron’s body. Dave and I are headed there now to case the scene with them. We’ll call with what we know later.” He hung up before I could argue with him, which he knew I would.

The worry was starting to fuck with my head and my body. A headache was brewing, meanwhile my stomach was starting to ache to the point I felt like I was going to throw up. At first, I tried ignoring it. I closed my eyes to stop the headache and to focus on my breathing, but that didn’t work. So, I tried rocking back and forth gently. However, it only seemed to get worse the longer we sat there in silence, worrying about Morgan and Emily.

“Fuck…” I cursed under my breath. “Not now, baby… Come on, just give me a few more hours.”

“Y/N?” Reid questioned me from across the table. I glanced up at him through my lashes to see that he was watching me hold my stomach, rocking back and forth lightly, trying to control my breathing. “What is it?”

“The baby’s just kicking. That’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and closed the file in front of him. “You look like you’re in pain.”

I searched his eyes. There was no way in hell he was going to give this up, but if I told him the truth, he would tell Hotch, and then that would just cause more problems than was necessary. “I’m fine.” I saw that Garcia was also eyeing me suspiciously now. “Please, just don’t tell Hotch. I swear, it’s nothing. I’m just not feeling well.”

“We’re supposed to tell Hotch if anything—”

“No. Please.”

Garcia was slowly tapping on her keyboard, trying not to draw my attention. Her sloth-like pace was exactly what caught my eye, though. “Sorry…” she apologized quietly. “I had to.”

I sighed and threw my papers on the table. “I’ll get my things.”

“Why?” Reid asked.

“Hotch’s gonna make me go home.” I stood. “Fuck—” I grabbed onto the table for balance. “Shit…” My stomach ached like I was being stabbed. I let out a shaky breath. “Okay, fine… Someone get Anderson to drive me home.”

Reid stood and raced out of the boardroom to go find Anderson while I slowly made my way down to my desk to get my things. I collected my purse and threw my phone and badge in it. Within the next minute or so, Anderson approached, letting me know that Reid had tracked him down to take me home. I thanked him quickly. The stomach aches had passed, but I knew that they would inevitably return. If I was heading home, I wasn’t coming back. At least not today.

On our way out, I beckoned Garcia over quickly to tell her that even though I was going home, I wanted constant updates, and if there were any new developments, I wanted her to video call me with everything. She agreed. While she was practically pushing me towards the elevator, she said that she would put me on calls with the team, send me texts with small details, video call me for dozens of other things. Since I was going home because they let up the game to Hotch, it was the least they could do.

In the car, Anderson played the radio and we talked about his girlfriend. Her name was Angelica. They met shortly after the Fisher King case when he began attending group therapy to help him cope with the guilt he felt for what happened to Elle. I interrupted to tell him that none of it was his fault. While he sent me a short smile and thanked me for the personal reassurance, I could tell that he still wasn’t convinced; but it didn’t matter. Talking about Angelica made his whole face brighten. He was grinning ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in the sun as he focused on the road, and he was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat of the music. I smiled to myself. It was so odd that I had been working with people like him—people in the broader spectrum of the BAU—for years, and yet I hardly knew anything about them. Sometimes I would consider Anderson a friend, but it was just… It was different being friends with him compared to being friends with Morgan and Emily. I knew practically everything about Morgan, and I knew as much as Emily was willing to tell me, but I didn’t know much about Anderson. It felt wrong. Somehow, it irked me that I could be working in the same office as him for so long, and yet I never stopped to ask him how his day was going, or if he was seeing anyone, or if he was okay since everything happened with Elle.

“Do you ever wish you could see her again?” Anderson inquired. I didn’t understand what he was asking. “Elle.”

Oh. I couldn’t tell him that I had seen her somewhat recently, or that I didn’t care if I saw her again or not, as shitty as it sounded. Since she first left, all I wanted was to see her again and get answers from her. Only, when I did see her again, she felt like an entirely different person, and I didn’t get a single real answer out of her. So, no. I didn’t wish that I could ever see her again, but Anderson didn’t need to know that.

“Sometimes,” I answered, then I turned to stare out the window silently.

By the time he dropped me off at my house, my phone was ringing with a FaceTime from Garcia. Anderson was already driving around the corner down the block when I answered while simultaneously digging out my house keys. As I unlocked the door, I saw Penelope’s face on the screen.

“What do you have for me, lovely?” I asked.

“We have a name—a potential suspect,” Garcia said.

“What does that mean?”

“His name’s Ian Doyle, and we think that he might be operating on a list of people who took him down seven years ago.”

“Why?”

“Because all but three of the people on that list are dead.”

I stopped in my tracks as I entered the house. “Who are the other three?”

“We don’t know. The CIA and Interpol are giving Hotch a hard time confirming identities. They only just told us that our victims matched the team of profilers that had taken Doyle down. I don’t know when we’ll get the name of the other three agents.”

“Hotch will get the names. I know he will.” I set my things down and wandered to get a TUMS and Motrin for my stomach and headache. “Call me when you know more.”

“Of course, my love. Get some sleep. You look pale.” She kissed the pads of her index and middle fingers, then pressed them to her camera before hanging up on me.

I set my phone down on the counter so that I could pour out one pill from the TUMS bottle and the Motrin bottle. When I had them resting in my palm, I turned to grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. When I was finished with the Motrin, I carried the water and my phone with me upstairs as I began chewing on the big TUMS pill that was slowly dissolving in my mouth. By the time I landed in bed, the pill was gone, and I was already falling asleep. Just a few minutes. I would wake up soon...

----

As my eyes fluttered open, I could see that the sun was setting over the houses in the neighborhood. I jolted upright and checked the time. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I slept for three hours. Fuck. I reached to grab my phone to see that there were no calls or texts from anyone on the team. I didn’t understand. I had been MIA for three hours. How had Garcia not checked up on me? How did Hotch not call to see if I was feeling alright? What the fuck was he really going on? I tried calling Hotch, but it went to voicemail. My face fell.

That was when I heard something clatter in the dining room. I jumped in my own skin, the sound echoing throughout the house sending me back to that day when I was taken in Hawai’i. Hotch wasn’t picking up the phone, and now it sounded like someone was in the house. Maybe it was just Hotch? Maybe he picked up Jack from soccer early, and they were downstairs setting up dinner? Yeah. Maybe. I could only know for sure by making my way downstairs slowly, holding onto the railing to make sure I didn’t lose my footing. My heat was still hurting, but the baby had calmed down, so my stomach wasn’t aching and cramping anymore. Thankfully.

I stumbled to a halt when I saw Jessica and Jack sitting at the dining room table, eating spaghetti and garlic bread. She had a glass of water and wine, meanwhile Jack was chugging down a large glass of chocolate milk that he ended up refilling with the jug next to him once he was out. I smiled. Chocolate milk was his “thing” right now. For the longest time, it was mac and cheese—and, of course, he would never pass up the chance to have a bowl of it, but it was “chocolate milk this” and “chocolate milk that” nowadays. Eventually, Hotch and I were going to have to trick him out of it. If it became an unhealthy obsession, I’d find one way or another to get him to start drinking iced tea or something like his dad.

Jessica looked up to see me standing in the doorway. “Hey! You’re up.” I smiled and nodded. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah…” I searched the table with my eyes, trying to piece together how long she had been with Jack. “How did you…” I chuckled to myself.

“Aaron called to tell me you weren’t feeling well, so I came over to watch Jack.” She picked up her glass of wine. “I would’ve warned you, but I saw that you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s all good.” I walked over to the table before kissing the top of Jack’s head. “How was school, little man?”

“Boring,” he answered behind a full mouth of spaghetti noodles.

At least it wasn’t bad, and at least he wasn’t sending any signal that he didn’t want to go back tomorrow. If he would have still been as upset as he was that morning, I would have considered letting him stay home tomorrow. Tomorrow… I realized that I didn’t even know where I would be tomorrow given the fact that I had already missed so much of the case. I was feeling a thousand times better already, but Hotch probably wasn’t going to accept that, and I really wasn’t looking to pick a fight with him about it again, and I wasn’t willing to hear Morgan, Rossi, or Emily take his side on the matter.

“Did you show Mr. Feechi your art?”

“I forgot.”

I chuckled and kissed the top of his head again. Forgetting to show his art to his teacher probably meant that he was caught up in a million other things like schoolwork or friends, and either option was ideal to me, so I was content with that answer, truth be told. At least he looked and sounded better now. Compared to this morning, he was acting like my little man again as I knew him, the slurping spaghetti noodles really bringing the whole thing together. I smiled to myself.

“I’m gonna check in with the team,” I said to Jessica. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She shrugged and nodded understandingly. “Take your time.”

As I headed back upstairs to the bedroom, I sighed and wiped my palms over my face in an attempt to wake myself up. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep earlier. Considering I gave Garcia so much shit earlier for snitching on me, and I begged her to stay in touch because of it, the least I could have done was stay awake in order to receive her calls. Then again, I was feeling much better now that I was well rested. Give and take, I suppose.

I grabbed my phone from my bedside table and dialed Garcia’s number. The call rang a worrisome amount of times before going to voicemail. That was unusual… I cocked a brow at my phone as I dialed Hotch’s number this time around. Garcia normally picked up because she was sitting at her desk—or at least she had one of her many phones on her to alert her that someone was calling. Why hadn’t she answered?

And then I heard Hotch pick up. I let out a relieved sigh and let my palm rest over my stomach. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he responded, sounding a little out of breath and extremely preoccupied.

“Is everything okay? Garcia didn’t—”

“We’re fine, baby. We’re just about to give the profile, so we’re all running around right now. Can I call you back later when we’re done?”

I hesitated. “Yeah…” I looked over my shoulder to glance at his side of the bed which was uncomfortably empty. “Are you coming home tonight?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh…”

Hotch stopped and sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know that this isn’t what you want. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just be safe. Call me after the profile and catch me up.”

“I will. I love you, Y/N.”

I smiled against my phone. “I love you, too.”

He hung up on me before anything else could be said.

----

Jack tried staying up with me as long as he could. After Jessica had left for the night, the two of us crashed on the couch to watch a movie, but he ended up spending more time focusing on my stomach than anything else. He found it fascinating. I mean, he was a kid, so he didn’t necessarily understand what was happening, but he knew that his baby brother or sister was in there. When I told him that the baby was kicking, Jack started freaking out. He thought I was dying. I laughed at him and told him that it was alright while placing his hand over my stomach so that he could feel it. “Ew,” was his response as he snatched his hand away. I chuckled again and explained that it was natural. “I still hate it,” he said, scurrying to the other side of the couch. At least his fascination with poking my stomach was gone now.

By the time the movie reached the credits, Jack was asleep and snoring. We had been waiting to see if Hotch would show up or call, but there was no word. So, I leaned over, and I combed Jack’s hair with my fingers while kissing his temple until he slowly stirred awake. I whispered that it was time to go to bed. Since I couldn’t carry him, tired, little Jack had to roll off the couch, then lazily stomp across the house in front of me as we ever so slowly made our way upstairs one step at a time. Jack crashed onto his bed and fell back to sleep immediately.

I smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Night, my little man.”

“Night…” he whispered, then rolled over to face the wall.

As I left his room, I closed the door quietly behind me to make sure that there weren’t any creaks, and that the sound of the doorknob wouldn’t wake him up. When the coast was clear, I let out a deep breath. That was when my phone started ringing. I jumped slightly at the sudden noise that shook the house, and probably woke Jack up.

I cursed under my breath while hurrying down to mine and Hotch’s room while answering the phone. The call was from Hotch. Finally. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” he responded with a hint of worry.

I froze and cocked a brow. What was wrong? Something was definitely fucking wrong, and he couldn’t lie his way out of it in order to make sure I wouldn’t come back in. Whatever it was, if it was bad enough, I would go back in. So, help me, if he wasn’t okay, I was going to race there, honking the horn at every goddamn car in my way.

“What is it?”

“Have you seen Emily?”

“No. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted quickly. “I’ll call you back—”

“No. Aaron Christopher Hotchner, you tell me what’s going on right fucking now, or so help me.”

He sighed heavily. He was still reluctant to admit whatever it was, but I wasn’t going to back down. He promised that he would call after the profile, yet he didn’t, and now he was calling to ask if I knew where Emily was, which meant that the team didn’t, which meant that something horrible— “She’s the last person on Ian Doyle’s list.”

“What? And you let her out of your sight? Aaron!”

“It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t know, Y/N. We think she ran in order to protect all of us, because she thinks she can handle this on her own.”

“Of course she does. She’s always been like that. She’s been acting so fucking weird, Hotch,” I said, hiding my face in my hand, “we should’ve talked to her sooner. Fuck…”

“Y/N, please, if you start panicking, it could be bad for the baby—”

“I’m coming back in.” I knew that argument was going to come about. I knew the second I heard his voice that something was bad enough that he needed to call me, and if it got to that point, I should just come in.

Hotch sounded angry when saying, “No.”

“Emily’s our family. I’m coming in to help find her. And Doyle.”

“Y/N, no.”

“Yes. I’m already on my way, Hotch. I’ll be okay. I’ll bring medication, a go-bag, and I’ll sleep on the couch in your office if I need more rest. But I’m not abandoning Emily. She’s our family.”

“That’s exactly why she left in the first place. Y/N, she left a gift in the drawer of her desk with her phone and badge. It’s addressed to you.”

I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

“There’s a letter attached to it, too.”

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t opened either of them.”

“Open them,” I demanded. “They might be something important!”

“I need to have the bomb squad check it first,” he answered quietly, and almost regretfully. I cocked a brow. What the fuck did that mean? “Doyle’s getting desperate. It could be part of his plan. If I open it now, it might—”

“Okay. Fine. Just… I’ll do it when I get there…” I grabbed a go-bag from the closet and started shoving clothes, medication, toiletries, etc. in there without a single care in the world. “We have to bring her back, Aaron,” I whispered almost helplessly, almost as if the message wasn’t really for him but for me and my conscience. “We have to.”

“I know.” He sounded just as helpless as I was.

I stayed on the phone with him the entire time as I texted Jessica to let her know what was happening, and then I got in my car that was parked in the garage in case we ever needed it for situations like this. My hands were shaking against the wheel as I drove. How could Emily do this? How could she just run instead of staying with us and trusting that we could help her? I didn’t understand how she could possibly think that she was better off on her own than with her family. I didn’t understand why she felt like she couldn’t come to me. Ian Doyle was why she had been pushing me away. All this time, she knew that he was coming after her, and instead of utilizing us, she abandoned us. As angry as I wanted to be, I was just anxious. I was worried sick. If I hadn’t been concerned earlier about Morgan and Emily, I didn’t know what to call this. I hadn’t felt this way since Hotch was all alone as he went to go face off against Foyet and I had to count the seconds until we could get there to give him back up.

When I got to the office, Hotch was waiting at the front door for me, the phone pressed to his ear because he stayed on the call with me all the way until I was standing just in front of him. I crashed my face into his chest. I didn’t care that we had our rules about being intimate at work, or that Cody, the Director, was walking past us as I did so. I didn’t care. The only thing that could calm me down again was being in my husband’s arms, feeling the way his abs under his shirt flexed against my torso, and how his long arms could hold me close while his hot breath floated over the top of my head.

“I still haven’t opened them,” he whispered to me, “but the bomb squad cleared them, and a tox report on the envelope came back negative.

I took his hand in mine, letting him take my go-bag in his other hand so that I wouldn’t have to carry it. We walked together inside. Security was different at night. We usually knew the team working the front desk during the day since we would welcome them every morning when we would come in for work, but we hardly ever saw the night team. I mean, if we were still at the office at night, that meant that we were there until the sun came up, just as the morning security team was coming in. But not this time around. Everything felt so foreign with Emily gone in the wind, and the different, unwelcoming faces at the front desk and standing at the metal detectors didn’t help.

When we made it up to the sixth floor, I could see the team standing up in the roundtable room, working together to tape photos and maps up on the walls to organize all of their evidence and get a new perspective on everything. Hotch led me the opposite direction, though. He led me straight to his office where he dropped my go-bag on the couch, then walked over to his desk where the box and letter were sitting, just as he promised. He didn’t touch them. He just turned to face me while gesturing towards them.

“Do you want me to stay?” he inquired. I shook my head. If it was addressed to me, I wanted to see it all for myself first, and then I would take it to the team if need be. “Okay.” As he started walking out, he wrapped his right arm around my hips before kissing my cheek lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I croaked.

He left before anything else could be said or he could change his mind about leaving me alone for this part. His hand drifted off my waist, my fingers trying to tangle with his all the way until he was out of reach. My hand fell to my side. When it was just me in the room, I turned back to the box and the letter. I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to know what was in there. I didn’t want to know what it was that Emily could have possibly left for me now. I didn’t want this to be the last thing I would ever get from her.

I slowly moved to sit down in one of the chairs in front of Hotch’s desk. After staring at the packaging for a moment, I decided to take the box in my hands and start carefully tearing at the wrapping. As the box opened, I saw what it was that she had left for me. A choked back sob escaped me. I smiled as I lifted it out of the box and held it close to my chest. Emily’s favorite animal was a koala. We always joked that if we had left her in charge of putting together the nursery, she would have ended up decorating the whole place with koalas. Never in a million years, however, did I anticipate that she would do this.

I squeezed the stuffed animal koala bear against my chest as tight as I could, as if I were giving it a Superman hug. After everything, the last thing she wanted to do—the last thing she wanted to give us before leaving—was a goddamn stuffed koala bear. I was going to give her so much shit when I would see her again. She could have given us anything. Scotch for Hotch, cigars for Rossi, a book for Reid, something with butterflies for JJ, something small and adorable for Penelope’s desk; but, nope. She chose to leave this for me. Why?

I leaned forward to grab the letter and pull it out of the envelope. It was her handwriting, alright. Ian Doyle couldn’t have forged anything like it, that was for sure, though Reid would probably still want to verify it himself at some point.

“Y/N, if you’re reading this, then you know by now that I’ve left. You know that I had to run in order to protect all of you. You also know that I would never do this unless I thought it was absolutely crucial. Doyle is coming after me. He’s been threatening the team and your family for three months, and I couldn’t tell you because he was going to kill you, and I just can’t let anyone die because of me. I can’t let you lose your family because of me. I know that there’s a chance that I won’t make it… That Doyle will win, and I’ll never get a chance to meet your son or daughter. If that’s the case, then I want them to have this and to know that it came from me. I want them to know that I love them, even if I didn’t get to hold them in my arms. I want them to know that I left in order to save them, and to save their family because they deserve to grow up with a mom, a dad, a brother, and a group of aunts and uncles that love them more than anything. I want you to know that I love you. Joining this team was the greatest gift of my life, but getting to know you and work with you in the field every day is my greatest blessing. You’ve come so far. You’ve grown, learned, suffered, and succeeded. I don’t know anyone like you, and I doubt that I’ll ever meet anyone else like you. You’re special, Y/N. Your son or daughter is going to be special, too; I just know it. More than anything in the world, I wish I could be there to tell you that it’s all going to be alright, but I really don’t know if that’s true. I want to meet your child, and I’m so ready to see the amazing person they grow up to be because they have the most amazing parents. Things just don’t turn out how we expect sometimes. Life gets in the way. Love and suffering gets in the way. I know me asking you and the team to not come looking for me is futile, but I hope that you understand that if you do come looking for me, I can’t guarantee everyone’s safety, so for that very reason, I’m going to ask that none of you follow me. This is my battle to fight. On my own. No one else needs to get hurt because of things I did in my past. I love you, Y/N. I love Hotch. I love Jack. I love your baby. I’m sorry. Emily.”

I folded the paper slowly before setting it down on the desk in front of me. Just when my hands were free, I immediately hid my face in my palms as I started to sob. That wasn’t fair of her. She didn’t get to do this to me. She didn’t get to just run away and say goodbye, never giving me the chance to say goodbye, too.

The team was going to want answers.

So, I wiped as many tears away as I could manage while putting the stuffed koala back in the box and hiding it under Hotch’s desk before grabbing the letter then heading out of his office. As the door closed behind me, I let out a shaky breath. Anderson, Gina, and a few secretaries were mulling about in the bullpen, completely unaware of what was happening. The team was going to take it hard; I knew that. But the rest of them in the office were going to have a hard time with it, too. I didn’t want to have to tell any of them. I didn’t want to have to face the truth.

I took one brave step towards the roundtable room, trying my best not to draw attention to myself. And then I took another. Every time I let out a breath and moved one step closer, I felt the task become easier. I still dreaded it, but at least it was a mindless endeavor now as I moved across the balcony.

As I walked into the boardroom, I saw all of the pictures and maps that the team had been taping up as Hotch was leading me to his office only a few minutes ago. I was so naïve then. I didn’t know the contents of the box or the letter, and I didn’t know what it was that they had all been hanging up and inspecting for the sake of the case. There were photos of Emily everywhere, but she looked so different. Her hair was brown instead of black, it was curly instead of straight, and she had soft bangs instead of harsh and dramatic ones— and her hair was just… longer. She didn’t look like the Emily I had known for the past three years. Then again, I was slowly starting to learn that I didn’t know her at all, and that the Emily I knew and loved was simply a facade, just as she was in those pictures hanging on the wall. She was smiling in those pictures while holding Doyle’s hand. In others, she was smiling against his lips, their fingers tangled in each other’s hair. I shook my head. She was a stranger to us. All this time, we trusted and loved her, and yet we didn’t really know anything about her. She was going to have to explain a lot when she would get back.

I was broken out of my trance when I heard the team arguing about whether or not what Emily had done undercover was moral or not. She sold Doyle weapons. She slept with him. From the looks of it, she even fell in love with him. Was that a part of the plan, or was that who Emily really was?

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Reid insisted with a hint of a whine buried behind his words. “We’re her family. We could have helped her…”

I threw the letter on the table. “Doyle’s been killing families. She ran so that he wouldn’t come after us. She’s leading him away.” Everyone glanced over at me, their faces falling as they saw how red and teary eyes I was, and how I was melted down to sniffles and quiet sobs now.

Reid stretched across the table to pick up the letter. Boy genius could have read the letter in its entirety in less than two seconds, if my math was correct, yet he kept hesitating on every other word, forcing him to practically start over every time his eyes fogged up too far with tears or he lost his train of thought.

“She doesn’t want us to go after her…” he croaked. “How could she ask that of us?”

“Because it’s too dangerous,” Hotch said.

“Her messes are our messes, though. That’s part of being a family,” I whispered. I looked around at all of them. “We have to help her.” Morgan’s gaze fell to the ground. “Derek, please… You know we have to.”

“Morgan, in the morning, you and Rossi will head to Prentiss’ apartment to see if you can find anything to tell us where she went,” Hotch continued as calmly as he could. “In the meantime, let’s get Y/N caught up to speed.”

I sent him a quick look that asked if he was really going to let me pursue this, if he was actually going to let me into the field for this. He nodded. My whole body relaxed in response, a behavioral way to thank him for knowing what I needed and giving in without starting an argument.

Everyone sat down and settled. Hotch cleared his throat. “This is personal. And I know that we’re not supposed to ever let it get personal, so… If it’s ever too much for any of you, it’s okay to take a step back.” No one seemed to be listening to him. All of us just wanted to dive straight into it so that we could catch up to Emily as fast as possible. Hotch caught the hint. “Okay.” He gestured to JJ to give him the clicker for the TV, and once she did, he began speaking. “My friend from… Well, from higher places, gave me this information about Lauren Reynolds. She was apart of a secret group working under Interpole, the CIA, and a dozen other organizations where they profiled terrorists around the world. Their last target was Ian Doyle.” He put a picture of Doyle up on the board. It was the first time I had ever seen this man’s face straight on compared to just his cheek as he was hugging or kissing Emily in any one of the photos up on the walls. “Emily had gone undercover as an arms dealer named Lauren Reynolds. Her mission was to get close enough to Doyle in order to build a stronger profile. Her undercover work, along with the entire team’s profile is what finally took him down. Jeremy Wolff was Doyle’s first victim in this spree.” He pulled up a photo of Jeremy. “He was murdered while on a morning run. His fiancé, Tsia Mosely was the victim Morgan and Prentiss found last night.”

“That was Em’s trigger to leave,” Garcia gasped.

“Clyde Easter was the leader of the profiling task force. He had come to D.C. a couple of days ago with Tsia, but after her murder last night, he ran. My friends in those higher places have already put him on the TSA’s watch list.”

“How close did Prentiss and Doyle get, though?” Rossi scoffed while looking at one of the pictures of them kissing passionately.

I shook my head and looked down.

Hotch didn’t seem to want to talk about it either. So, he instead opted to say, “Doyle fell madly in love with her. That was how they ultimately took him down.”

“Does he know that?” JJ asked.

“I would assume so.”

“That’s why he’s leaving her for last…” I whispered while running my hands over my stomach to ignore the stomachache that was slowly but surely returning.

Morgan stormed out of the room, deciding that he didn’t want to sit around long enough to hear all of this while also doing nothing. If anything, he was probably headed to go to Emily’s apartment already. Rossi stood, too, just when he put the pieces together. We all sighed and fell quiet, considering just how bad things were getting, and the fact that they could get much worse soon if we weren’t faster.

----

After Morgan and Rossi came back, they met with us in the roundtable room to discuss what it was that they had found at Emily’s apartment. Yesterday, while I was at home resting and they found Tsia’s body, Emily threw up outside, then asked Morgan to drive her home so that she could change clothes. What Morgan failed to recognize at the time was that she was packing up a go-bag so that she could leave when the time was right. But she left her safe open. Not that it was a mistake or that she was being careless, but because she knew that we were going to try to follow after her, and she was only giving us what she wanted us to know. She had tried to flush the golden necklace in Rossi’s hand, but he had spotted it just before they decided to head back to the office.

It was a Gimmel ring— a Gaelic-made wedding ring where the husband and wife’s rings would be worn separately during the engagement, then, for the wedding, they would be molded together to represent their unity. The one hanging from the chain in Rossi’s hand was already molded together. He handed it to me so that I could inspect it further. Immediately, I took to the detail of the different Gaelic marking on both rings, and how they certainly meant something in Gaelic—something only Spencer Reid himself could translate, so I passed the necklace to him. He examined it closely, too. While he was busy, I crossed my arms over my chest, shrugged, and asked what this had to do with anything. Certainly, it was just her parents’ old wedding rings, or perhaps her grandparents’. Emily was never married prior. We would have known if she were ever married.

“Ian was—” Rossi began.

“Shit—” Reid threw the necklace on the table angrily before I could get an answer from someone. We all turned to face him. He gestured to the rings, “They have Ian and Emily’s names on them.”

“As I was saying,” Rossi continued cautiously, “Doyle was part of the Irish Mob… The running theory Morgan and I had on the way over here was that it belonged to Doyle. We didn’t know that Emily was… Well, we didn’t realize… I…” He chuckled to himself and how outrageous the situation was. Did we really not know anything about her?

“Doyle ran his operations out of Boston,” Morgan said quietly from the corner. He was sitting down, unlike the rest of us, and he was staring at the closed Ian Doyle file Hotch had gotten from his friends in “higher places”. When we all turned to him, that was his cue to continue. “That was where he and Emily met.” He looked at me. “It’s important to both of them. If he’s not in D.C. anymore, which I doubt he is, he probably scurried back to what he knows, which is Boston. And since Emily wasn’t going to let him bring the fight to us, she probably ran to take the fight to him.” He slid the file away from himself like he didn’t want to stare at it any longer.

“As usual, my slice of chocolate cake is correct,” Garcia said, turning into the boardroom with a laptop in her hands, racing over to the table as if she could hear what we were talking about from across the office. “TSA just got a hit on one of Clyde Easter’s covers. He’s on his way to Boston.”

My jaw fell slightly in shock. “He probably had the same thought we did. He knows Emily just as well as we do, but he knows Doyle better. He knew that they were likely in Boston.”

“It confirms Morgan’s theory,” Hotch agreed. “Garcia, have him detained the second he gets off that plane. We’ll interrogate him when we get there.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“And, you’re coming with us.”

She looked up at him suddenly, uncertainty written all over her face. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

As she began contacting TSA again, we all headed to grab our go-bags and get ready to head for the jet. Hotch and I headed to his office. He had some extra clothes stored away in a drawer, so he carefully grabbed them to make sure they would stay folded, then slid them into his bag. I sat down at his desk to look at Emily’s gift again. The box was just staring at me. It was as if it were saying to me: “She’s already dead. You’re too late. There’s nothing you can do.” I sniffled and wiped my face clean with my palms. Hotch, from where he was standing opposite me, took notice of my behavior, yet he didn’t say anything, probably because he didn’t know what to say. If anything, he was just as panicked as I was, as frustrated as Morgan, as desperate as Reid and JJ; he just showed it differently.

On the jet, however, that was another story. Everyone sat down for takeoff, and Hotch held my hand the entire time. Even though I wasn’t scared of flying on the jet anymore, there were times when there were personal stakes involved when he needed to hold me and rub his thumb over my knuckles, and even kiss my cheek once. I melted into his touch. I turned to face him, both of us relaxing with our eyes closed, and I kissed him gently.

Once we were in the air, he tugged at my hand. “I have something to give you.” He pulled me to my feet and led me past the team, then, when there was some remnants of privacy, he handed me a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I inquired.

“A list of Emily’s phone numbers.”

I looked up at him. “Why?”

“Most of those are unlisted, and only a select few of us know about them, but I figure that if she’ll pick up for anyone right now, it might be you, considering she left the gift for you.”

“You want me to call all of these?” The list was probably nine to ten different phone numbers. How the hell did Emily have so many different phones?

Hotch nodded. “Just try.” He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before leaving to take a seat with the team again.

I sighed and headed towards the back of the jet. “Whatever you say, boss.”

After stepping into the small bathroom, I turned and locked the door, then I slowly sat down on the toilet seat while turning the list over in my hands so that I could start dialing. The phone didn’t even ring once. There was an immediate dial tone, followed by a voice telling me that the phone number was disconnected by the owner. I sighed and began dialing the next number. Same thing. The first four were all disconnected lines, but by the fifth one, I finally got to her voicemail before a robotic voice told me that the inbox was full. I cursed under my breath. Was that how the next four numbers were going to be, too? There was probably no point to this in the first place. Emily didn’t want us to follow her, therefore she wasn’t going to let us contact her in any way, and I should have known better.

When I reached the last phone number, I entirely anticipated that it wouldn’t work. To my surprise, however, the voicemail came and ended, but there was no robotic voice. There was a single dial tone signaling me to start speaking, so I decided to just… go for it.

“Hey. It’s, um… It’s me. I don’t know if you’re safe, so I’ll keep it brief, but… Hotch said I should try calling all of your numbers to see if I happen to hear back from you. I don’t know why I’ve been sitting on the toilet in the jet for an hour doing all of this when I know you’re not going to pick up, but I just… I had to try. This is the only number that has room left for a voicemail. I don’t even know if you’ll ever hear this, but if you are… Emily… It’s time to come home. Please. I can’t do this without you—I don’t know how to do this without you. I read your letter, and I haven’t been able to stop crying and worrying about you since then. You’re not allowed to die, Emily Prentiss. Do you hear me? I don’t care what it takes, you’re not allowed to leave us. You’re not allowed to just write a goodbye letter and then make it seem like it’s okay that you might not get to meet my baby. You don’t get to say goodbye. Not like that. You don’t get to leave and make me regret not loving you and appreciating you more. Shit…” I sniffled. “I took your love and friendship for granted, Emily, and I’m so sorry. I had all the time in the world to look at you and tell you that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and Hotch. You’re our family, Em. You always have been and you always will be. You’re one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had, and the worst part is that I couldn’t recognize or admit it until you were gone, and I can’t say it to your face. So, I just need you to come home. I need you to survive all of this bullshit. Because you deserve to meet my baby and give them the koala bear. They deserve to fall asleep in your arms. I deserve the chance to get to look at you and say: ‘I love you, Emily Prentiss. You’re one of my best friends. Thank you.’ Morgan, Reid, Garcia, Hotch, JJ, and Rossi… We’re all waiting to see you again. We love you.”

The call beeped, signaling that I had taken too long to record my message, so it was just sending what I had already said, and that was it. I sighed and turned off my phone.

When we landed in Boston, Hotch’s phone immediately started ringing. We were all stepping off the plane when Hotch answered and stopped in his tracks on the runway. We stopped, too, to gauge just how bad the news was. Then, he hung up. He looked at us and told us that Boston P.D. just responded to a call at a local bar where there was a shooting. They had confirmed that Emily was involved.

At the precinct, we were immediately set up with a monitor so that we could watch the video to confirm whether or not it was really our Emily Prentiss. The security camera outside of the bar was set up at an awkward angle, so all we could really see was a group of men climbing into two separate black SUVS. Out of nowhere, gunfire rained onto the side of the second car, and that was when we saw Emily stepping into the frame of the camera, a MAC-10 in her hands, and a flashbang being thrown into the broken window of the car. But when she approached the car, something seemed wrong.

Suddenly, Ian Doyle revealed himself from the shadows, his gun raised at her; and before Emily could do anything, he fired.

“Oh, my—” I jumped as the gunshots rang. I stumbled back and caught my footing on a nearby desk.

She was killing me with worry at this point. Every time something bad happened to our team, it built this knot in the pit of my stomach that made me want to puke or just completely fall to my knees and give up because worrying about them—my family—was sometimes too unbearable to handle. Worrying about Hotch, Morgan, and Emily specifically were the worst moments. When Hotch was in danger, it was like I couldn’t move or breathe. When Morgan was in danger—like when he stole the ambulance in New York, I felt like my legs would give out at any second and the only thing that could put me back together was knowing that he, my best friend in the entire world, was alright. And he was. Him and Hotch were always okay. No matter how much pain they put me through, at least I could say that they were okay and they were still with me. Hotch was still by my side. Morgan was still there to tease me every chance he got. Yet, this time, with Emily in the hot seat now, it felt like things weren’t going to be okay. That knot in my stomach was twisting in ways worse than ever before—and maybe it was because the stress was putting pressure on the baby, or maybe it was the fact that I never had to worry about her like this before… or maybe it was the fact that I didn’t realize that I cared for her this much until something terrible happened that I wasn’t sure was going to end with rainbows and unicorns. This didn’t feel right. There was something about my worry for her this time around that made me feel like something horrible was going to happen. And when I heard those gunshots echo through the security footage, I thought that was it. Before I saw Doyle pry open her shirt, I was convinced that it was over. I thought for sure as I jumped out of my own skin that I was never going to see her again.

“She’s alive,” JJ said, “that’s the good news.” She sighed heavily. “She’s alive.”

“Only because Doyle wants to toy with her,” Rossi said.

“Once he’s felt he’s made his point of revenge, he’ll kill her,” Hotch added.

“It gives us time to find her, though.” I turned back around to face the team. “We’re going to have to talk to Clyde Easter. He’s the only way we can stop hitting these walls in the case like complete fucking idiots.” Everyone seemed shocked at my anger. “Sorry,” I apologized quietly.

“You’re right.” Hotch crossed his arms over his chest and started drawing his thumb around his lips while thinking. “You want the honors of talking to him?” he asked me. I nodded eagerly. “Okay. Garcia, keep trying to track their path from the bar. See if you can narrow down where it is they took her. It’s probably somewhere remote. Definitely not in the center of the city.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because he’ll want to hear her scream,” Morgan answered blatantly.

No one said anything.

Before I could let his depressing words continue to seep into my mind and heart, I started walking towards the mirror room. Hotch silently followed me. When we reached the door, he skipped a few steps so that he could beat me to it and hold it open for me. I thanked him with a smile.

“I’ll go in first just to loosen him up a bit. Until then, you stay back here.” Hotch grabbed the doorhandle to the interrogation room, then stepped in.

Clyde immediately pushed himself to his seat. “What is this?! I demand to talk to the British Consulate!”

“Calm down.”

“You can’t keep me here. You would know that if you would let me speak with—”

“The British Consulate. Yeah, I know.” He turned the file in his hands over. “Clyde Easter, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—”

“Oh, my god,” Easter groaned. “What the hell are you doing in here with me, then?! Shouldn’t you be out there, looking for her?”

Hotch ignored him by opening up the file. “October of 2006. ‘In closing, I have never worked with an agent finer than Agent Prentiss. Her skill at analyzing and predicting terrorist behavior is unparalleled.’ Signed, name redacted.” Hotch threw the file on the table. “Do you want to know what it was that I read when I was given her file in October of 2006? I’ll never forget it because it was the best recommendation I had ever read. ‘In closing, I have never worked with an agent finger than Agent Prentiss. Her skill at analyzing data and predicting the behaviors of potential serial killers is unparalleled.’ Signed, name redacted. I never knew who it was that wrote that recommendation, and I never found out how it was that a small-time data analyst agent got moved from a desk job to being a profiler for the BAU. That was why it impressed me. I can remember staring at it for hours while asking myself, what was it that Cody and Strauss saw in this girl that was so different from the rest of my team that she got special permission to join the unit? I didn’t clear her. In fact, I was told that she was cleared to be on my team, and that was the end of it. But now I know how it happened. The recommendation came from you, it went to Interpol and the CIA, who then sent it to Cody as it was, and he saw an opportunity to steal away a brilliant agent from Europe and utilize her within his greatest unit at the Bureau, so he took it. You used all the right buzzwords with him, which was how Emily was transferred. But her work with your unit was confidential, so you had to write a second recommendation that used my buzzwords in order to get me off your scent.”

“Okay. And?”

“It takes a true sociopath to betray his team and the cause he held dear for self-preservation.”

“So, then, you don’t believe any of your team is capable of that kind of betrayal?”

“I know they aren’t.”

Easter chuckled. “Sure.”

“My point is, if you help us save Agent Prentiss, I might be willing to make a deal with you. Otherwise, you’ll end up in Guantanamo Bay. That’s not what you want. Is it?”

Easter didn’t say anything. Hotch had to know that his threat was entirely empty, right? I mean, we only suspected that Clyde Easter was the one who sold out his team to Doyle, but we had no way to prove it; and by the looks of it, Easter knew that. This tactic wasn’t going to work on him.

“She said you were the best,” Clyde finally said. “I’m unimpressed, however. As I’ve already said, I cannot help you.”

Hotch sighed and took his leave, reentering the mirror room to send me a look that told me that it was finally my turn. So, that was all apart of the plan. He knew that he wasn’t going to get in with Easter that way, but it would get him worked up enough that I could find a way in. I nodded and switched places with him, heading into the interrogation room.

“Hello, I’m Agent—”

“Great,” Easter threw his hands up, “another agent. Like I told the other guy, I won’t speak to any of you. I want to speak to the British Consulate first!”

I rolled my eyes and continued, “I’m Agent Hotchner.” That surely got his attention, as I knew it would. “We need your help saving Emily.”

“Like I told the other Agent Hotchner, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, reading the sparkle there that was pleading for answers and to know that Emily was safe. He cared for her just as much as we did. We were all panicked and racing around to rescue her from Doyle, yet Easter knew he couldn’t, and that was killing him slower than potentially anything Doyle had planned for him. I could use that. Unfortunately, it was my only way in with him; and by catching that slight bit of empathy hidden behind that thick skin of his, I could poke that button now to gain his favor.

So, I used the only thing I could think of. Even Hotch didn’t know this yet, but he was standing in the mirror room, so he was about to find out. “I never got the chance to tell her that she’s going to be the godmother of my child.” Easter’s attention snapped to me. “I need your help giving me that chance.”

Suddenly, as if on cue, Hotch burst into the room. “Did you know that Jeremy sold the list to Doyle?”

I cocked a brow while glancing between the two men in the room. “What?”

“I had my suspicions,” Easter answered. Any bit of rapport I had just built with him was washed away by Hotch’s interruption. Great.

“We need your team’s original profile of Ian Doyle so that we can save Emily’s life,” Hotch said.

“I can’t do that—”

“We need to know who he is as a terrorist in order to profile him as a torturer and serial killer.”

“I can’t do that,” he repeated, this time with his voice fluctuating to tell us that there was more to be said, “without making a deal first.” I rolled my eyes. “You have to kill Ian Doyle yourself. Even if it means killing him without cause.”

“No.”

“You must. If you don’t kill him, then he’s going to keep going after her.”

“I said, no. We don’t kill people without reason.”

“Then, you must do whatever it takes to keep Emily alive. If you think he’s a danger to her, then you must kill him. Protect her at all costs, Agent Hotchner.”

Hotch hesitated for a moment. “Okay.”

The door opened again. JJ was standing in the entryway, still holding onto the doorknob, leaning into the room as she said, “The British Consulate just arrived.”

“Tell them—” Hotch began.

Easter cut him off, “Tell them that their assistance is not required. I’m now consulting with the BAU on a case. That is… if Agent Hotchner agrees to the rest of my terms.” We all looked at him blankly. “Privately.”

The room was silent for a moment as we all stayed still, watching each other intently, waiting for someone to say something. There was no way Hotch was going to agree to that. Easter could ask for anything, and with how desperate we were, Hotch would probably give in, and we all knew it—Easter most of all. At least together we could become a voice of reason for one another. Alone, we were weak. Together, we were unbreakable and perfect. Working together every single day then being able to go home with a still healthy and loving relationship proved that much to everyone who ever doubted us, including JJ, who was still standing at the door.

“Go catch up with the team,” Hotch ordered me quietly.

“Hotch—”

“Go.”

“Aaron, this is a bad—”

“Go,” he ordered more demandingly, his eyes staring into mine with a look that Dominated me into submission. “Go.”

I looked away from him and headed out of the interrogation and mirror rooms with JJ, but I didn’t go to catch up with the team as Hotch had intended— hell, I didn’t even stick around JJ’s side long enough to let her see me kick a wall as hard as I could. I had him. I had Easter right where I fucking wanted, and as usual, Hotch came in to muck it up, thinking that he was saving the day; but now he was alone in there, making whatever deal it was with Easter instead of trusting me—his closest ally and coworker, and his wife. It was infuriating. I could have gotten Easter’s help without all of these extra steps and dramatics. Maybe Hotch was just mad that I brought up the fact that I wanted Emily to be our baby’s godmother. I hadn’t told him about that yet, and it was a rude way for me to let him know what I was thinking, I’d be the first to admit, but he had no right storming in there to break the sudden news that it was Jeremy who had sold out his own team. Fucking Jeremy. Did Tsia know? Clearly Emily and Clyde didn��t. But how could Jeremy possibly do that to his own team? It just begged the question that Easter had asked, were we so sure one of us wouldn’t do the same thing if we were desperate? I shook off the thought. There was no way in hell we would betray each other. We were family. We didn’t keep secrets—at least, none of us except for Emily…

“Sweetness,” Morgan cooed, carefully approaching me. I turned to him while huffing. He threw his hands up in surrender once he saw how red my face was from getting angry and taking it out on the defenseless wall. “You okay?”

“No,” I answered blatantly.

He lowered his hands. “Same.”

I sighed and rested my back against the wall. “I don’t hate her, I swear. I’m just…”

“Worried.”

I looked at him. “Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Hotch and Easter are making some kind of deal, I guess,” I said, changing subjects quickly because I felt like if I kept talking about her and the way I missed her, I would fall apart.

Morgan nodded. “They’re already done.” As I cocked a curious brow at him, he gestured behind him as if to say: “They’re waiting for us.” I still didn’t understand, though. “Easter’s presenting his team’s original profile to us.”

I immediately pushed myself off the wall, caught my footing, and stormed past Morgan to head to the boardroom where our team was set up. They were all waiting around patiently. Easter and Hotch were at the front of the room, both silent as they caught a glimpse of me and Morgan entering the room. I watched Hotch carefully while I circled the room and sat down in an empty chair. I was trying to get a read on the situation. What was it that he and Easter said to each other? Did he agree to any deal? Was the deal entirely outrageous? Was he ever going to tell me about the deal? Honestly, if it were important—or if he had taken the deal, he would tell me. Like I said a thousand times before, we didn’t keep secrets from each other. I trusted that he would tell me the truth in due time.

Easter cleared his throat as he began reciting the profile for us. Ian Doyle was a terrorist known under the name of Valhalla. Most of his work was spent in the U.S. smuggling weapons for the Irish Mob, but when he met Lauren Reynolds—or as we knew her, Emily Prentiss—he turned his attention towards building his own empire. His first attack was on his own uncle in Ireland. It was a calculated attack to gain power within the family, and it worked, however, it cost twenty-three innocent people their lives, too. After that, Doyle had to stay low while planning his next attack for power, which was going to be on a rival in Germany. That was when the clock started racing for Emily to complete the profile sooner. After a few months of staying undercover with Doyle in the farmlands of Italy, she reported back to her team with the following information: He was a power-assertive psychopath, who was highly controlling and precise, and if something ever went the slightest bit off plan, he lost his shit.

Sounded like someone I knew. I looked over at Hotch quickly.

“He had a son,” Easter continued. “I don’t know anything about him. Name, age, appearance, anything. Emily was very protective of him, claiming that we were there to profile Doyle, not ruin a child’s life. So, we never pried about it; though, in hindsight, perhaps we should have.”

“Doyle’s son isn’t listed in any of the information in these files,” Morgan said.

“His existence was Need-to-Know only. From what I can tell, Doyle didn’t even put his name on his own son’s birth certificate in order to protect him.”

“But he kept him close,” Hotch said, “so, someone had to raise him.”

“I’ll check employee records,” Garcia said, already typing away on her computer. “I got him!” Garcia cheered. “His name is Declan Jones. He settled in Boston eight years ago with his adopted guardian, Louise Jones, Doyle’s housekeeper.”

“Are they still alive?” Hotch interrogated.

“They went missing seven years ago— Oh, my god—” She looked away from her screen after pressing a single key that projected what she saw up on the monitor for the rest of us.

There were dozens of photos of Declan and Louise on the dirty floor of an abandoned warehouse, duct tape on the mouths, ropes on their wrists, tears streaming down their faces. And then there was a gun being pointed at their heads. I shook my head in denial. No. Please. The next few images were of them being executed one by one. I closed my eyes in disappointment, disgust, and distraught.

“Wait…” Reid whispered under his breath, taking a few steps closer to the screen. “Morgan, look at this.” I opened my eyes long enough to see them both squinting at the screen. “Look at the fingernails. Who do we know that chews on them to that extent?”

“Emily,” Morgan answered lightly, as if shock were settling in his stomach.

“I think I found the warehouse where these pictures were taken,” Garcia spoke up. Suddenly, all of our phones dinged with an address.

Hotch examined it for a moment. “Okay. We’ll give it a shot.”

The team scattered to go collect their gear. Meanwhile, Garcia and JJ stayed put. I, on the other hand, had something on my mind. So, I carefully snuck out of the boardroom and tracked down Hotch to a room where they had a stack of FBI bulletproof vests. I stopped around the corner, however, when I heard Hotch getting off the phone with Strauss. Why the hell was he calling Strauss? I didn’t understand.

Within the next few moments, Hotch was getting ahold of a SWAT team to meet them at the location. While I was eavesdropping, I heard him mention that it was a high-risk situation. My heart started racing in my chest, and I felt like I was going to cry or start panicking. It felt like I was going to lose everyone at once, and the worst part was that I couldn’t do anything about the situation to tilt fate one way or another. If it were me out there, I would have jumped in front of any bullet aimed at anyone on the team. But I wasn’t going out there with them. I was being forced to stay back with JJ and Garcia. How was I supposed to trust that Spencer would jump in front of Hotch? He wouldn’t. The scariest part was that, if I lost Hotch or Morgan, as well as Emily, I wouldn’t know what to do. My life felt like it was crumbling into dust in my hands, and every anxious idea I ever had in my life was consuming me in that moment.

“Y/N?” Hotch waved a hand in my face. I snapped out of my trance long enough to look up at him with foggy eyes. “Baby, it’s going to be okay…” he cooed, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me close, our foreheads pressed against each other. “I’m going to have a body cam on so that you can make sure I’m safe the whole time.”

“Please be careful out there,” I whispered.

His breath was hot on my nose as he said. “I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed my lips quickly, yet still passionately, before pulling himself away from me and hurrying out of the room, trading spots with Morgan who needed to grab his vest. My eyes followed him. For a short moment, neither of us said anything, giving me a chance to read his body language. Everything about him was angry. Since we knew for sure that Emily was involved in all of this, Morgan had decided that he was going to be pissed off with her compared to just trying to be understanding and focus on finding her until we could ask her all of our questions.

“Are you going to be okay out there?” I questioned. He nodded while pulling the vest over his head. “Do me a favor, then?” He nodded again. “Watch his back for me since I can’t.”

Morgan looked up at me as he snapped the velcro straps together. “I’ll try.”

I flung my arms around him without warning. He stumbled back before catching me, his arms somewhat embracing me since he didn’t want to squeeze me too hard with my baby bump in the way. I hid my face against the hem of his v-neck. “Thank you.” I let out a sigh. “She’ll be okay.” I knew that had been weighing on his mind, and that was why he was incredibly upset with her. He just cared for her the same way he cared for me and Garcia, and he just couldn’t imagine losing any of us; so, he was taking that anxiety out on all of us using anger… He just needed to hear, “She’s going to be okay,” again, though, and it seemed to help somewhat.

----

Things spiraled quickly and without any warning. Just as SWAT kicked down the door, gunfire was exchanged, causing Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid to all scatter and find another way into the building. Reid and Morgan went together, but Hotch and Rossi went to the right. They were splitting up. No. Please. Morgan promised that he would watch Hotch’s back for me. I needed them to be together, to make sure that they were both okay, and that they were going to come back to me.

A man stepped out of the door Hotch and Rossi were headed towards. Just as the man raised his weapon at Hotch, I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my mouth in a panic. Rossi shot the man first, though. My shoulders relaxed and I let myself catch my breath. Garcia, on the other hand, had finally decided that enough was enough, and she turned away at the first sight of blood.

Finally, Rossi grabbed ahold of the door before it could slam shut, and Hotch ran in, careful to check every dark corner, every open room, and every locked door. This was the dangerous part. Anyone could have jumped out at any time, catching him off guard, taking him and the chance to say goodbye away from me. Yet, there was no one there. It was like a ghost town until they met up with SWAT again towards the exit of the building where all of the bodies of Doyle’s men were piled up from their failed attempt to fight back.

“We’ve cleared this area,” the SWAT leader told Hotch. “We’re clearing the rest of the building now.”

“We got the right—” Hotch began responding.

“Hotch!” Morgan shouted into the comms. “Prentiss is down!”

My face fell. What the fuck was he talking about? Where was Doyle? How had things spiraled so quickly? The team had only just infiltrated the building, and now there were no eyes on Ian Doyle, and Morgan was claiming that something was wrong with Emily. I refused to believe that she was dead. I didn’t care what he said. There was no way in hell I was going to lose her like this, and there was no way I was never going to see her again. It just wasn’t possible.

Hotch turned on his heels and started dashing in the opposite direction of the exit to go find Morgan in order to see what was really going on. I didn’t believe it. Emily was somewhat of a trickster, though she would never outright admit it. Her and Morgan were devious together, though. I could remember the way she and I used to pick on him for the smallest things, and then the next day, they would team up to prank me as payback. Emily was never the instigator or victim in those cases. She just went with the flow, and she always had the brightest smile on her face. So, I was sure that Hotch was about to turn that corner, and what we were going to see was Emily Prentiss with that bright, toothy grin lighting up her face and the entire room, and Morgan would be laughing behind her at our expense.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered to me, her eyes moving from the monitor to me. I didn’t look at her. “Y/N, you’re hypervent—”

“It’s not true,” I insisted quickly.

Honestly, I hadn’t even realized how lightheaded I was until JJ said something, but that wasn’t going to break my concentration. I was just waiting for Hotch to turn that corner. In just a few moments, all of my suspicions would be confirmed, and I would be able to calm down. I’d be able to breathe, sit down, maybe drink something cold to keep me from puking everywhere.

And then I saw her.

For the briefest moment, I saw her raven hair, and I smiled. For just a single millisecond, I thought that everything was alright, and that we were going to all go home tonight together, and I’d never let her go again. But then Hotch stepped closer. He was hesitant at first, almost like he couldn’t believe what he saw, yet as Morgan’s pleas for help got louder, Hotch ran over to her and grabbed her hand with Morgan. Once he was close enough, I could see the large wooden stake buried in her stomach, right where all of the most vital organs lived.

She was losing consciousness. Her eyes kept fluttering, as if she was fighting her very hardest to keep looking at them. Despite both Morgan and Hotch trying to convince her to keep her eyes open, however, Emily was ultimately starting to slowly close her eyes, her head tilting to the side. A sob left me without warning.

“Hotch…” Emily whispered. She could hardly move, breathe, or speak, yet she was still trying. She was so strong. She always was. She was the strongest person I knew. She could get through this. She could get through anything. “Hotch…”

“I’m right here,” he cooed.

She sighed weakly. “Tell… Tell Y/N I’m sorry… And… I… They didn’t take me for granted…”

“Stop it, Prentiss. You’re going to talk to them yourself,” Morgan insisted.

Her hand was starting to release his, though, and her head was falling back as her eyes couldn’t stay open any long. Hotch shook his head and leaned into her desperately. “Come on, Emily. Stay awake for us. The medics are almost here.” I saw a tear of his land on her collarbone. “Please.” But she wasn’t moving anymore. “Please…”

“No, no, no, no,” Morgan mumbled under his breath as Emily stopped breathing. “No. Emily—” He pressed his palms against her chest to begin performing CPR. “Where are the fucking medics?!”

Just then, as if they realized just how late they were running, a group of medics came storming into the room. Morgan kept pumping Emily’s lungs, but Hotch took a step back to leave the professionals room to help save Emily. I fell into the chair behind me. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when I was entirely unable to help her or even say goodbye. I wanted to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry for, and that I was the stupid one who did take her for granted, but I loved her so much. I wanted to look at her and tell her that. I wanted it to be with her in that moment, holding her and telling her to keep breathing and blinking because she was going to be the godmother of my child. She had every reason to live now. If for some dumb fucking reason she thought it was okay to let go now in order to spare us some kind of pain, that wasn’t the truth! She had to know that she was going to be a real part of our family now. We needed her here. I needed her here.

Suddenly, she let out a gasp as she woke up. Morgan immediately stumbled back, falling onto his tailbone so that he could be out of the way, too. Within an instant, the medics were sliding her onto a stretcher, then working together to carry her outside, Hotch and Morgan following closely.

“What…” I cleared my throat. “What hospital…”

“St. Bernard’s!” Morgan answered while racing on his toes towards the SUV so that he could drive behind the ambulance.

I pushed myself up to my feet, inviting JJ and Garcia’s stretched out arms that were there to catch me in case I ended up collapsing, which honestly felt entirely possible now. But I tried my best to ignore it.

JJ drove while Garcia and I sat in the back together, holding hands in an attempt to help ease our nerves. We were both shaking like chihuahuas. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how it was that JJ got us to the hospital safe and sound. If I were driving, I would have crashed before leaving the parking lot of the police station. By the time we were stepping out of the SUV, I thought I was going to pass out due to the nerves, yet JJ still seemed like an unwavering force in the face of disaster. She was set on the path of one thing and one thing only… Finding the team and seeing if Emily was alright. In fact, she seemed more determined than any of the rest of us.

When we found the waiting room, we discovered that the team was sitting around in silence. They had all taken their vests off and thrown them onto a single chair in the corner. Morgan was on his own, staring down at his bloody hands. Meanwhile, Reid and Rossi were together, staring at the wall, both of them entirely lost in thought. And then there was Hotch… He was sitting just ahead of me, his face buried in his hands as his knee bounced like crazy. He had taken off his tie, and the top button of his dress shirt was undone, just as his cufflinks had been undone, too. My face pouted. When he looked up at me, I saw just how distraught he was, and I knew that the only thing that could possibly help make things better was to hold each other close. He seemed to have the same thought because he pushed himself to his feet and held out his arms for me.

“Have you guys heard anything?” I asked as I flung my arms around Hotch.

“Nothing yet.”

“I’m going to talk to the doctors,” JJ said, already walking out of the room.

Hotch let go of me slightly, giving me a chance to turn around to see that Morgan still hadn’t looked up from his hands. I whispered to Hotch that he should sit down and wait for me to come back. He nodded and did as he was told. Without saying anything, I left the waiting room to find a nurse to see if she could give me a cloth and a water bottle in order to wipe all of the blood off of Morgan. When I had what I needed, I returned to the room to see that Garcia was trying to console him already, so I handed the materials to her then went to sit down next to Hotch.

Without hesitating, Hotch took my hand in his, and he hid his face against my bicep. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. She’s going to be okay.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, as JJ returned from tracking down the doctors to get an update on how Emily was doing, we all sat up straight to hear the news. Though, nothing technically had to be said. Just from her posture, her puffy, red face, and the way her lip was quivering, I knew that it wasn’t good. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to come back to the FBI? Maybe she wouldn’t be able to walk again? No. I had to stop imaging the worst. JJ just had to tell us. So, we waited for her to gain the courage.

“She never made it off the table,” she finally admitted.

“No,” I shook my head in denial. “No, you’re lying.”

JJ just stared at all of us while blinking away the tears.

I kept shaking my head. “JJ, where is she?”

She didn’t move.

“JJ!” I exclaimed angrily, pushing myself to my feet.

Hotch tried to pull me down. I felt my breath shudder as a choked back sob slowly crept out of my chest. The whole world was crashing down on me. The pain I felt in New York was nothing compared to this. The pain of seeing Haley dead on our bedroom floor was lightyears away from this. This wasn’t real. I was dreaming. Emily wasn’t gone. She probably just got out of surgery and her first thought was to have JJ play some kind of a sick joke on us. Well, ha ha. I wanted to see her now.

Reid stood from his chair and tried to push past JJ, but she caught him in a hug. When I saw them both break down into tears, I finally realized that this was real. This was happening. My knees buckled and I wavered slightly. Hotch jumped up and wrapped his arms around me so that I wouldn’t fall over. I cried out and sobbed as hard as I could. She was supposed to come home. She was supposed to meet my baby.

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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sxvxrxssnape · 3 years

Text

Snolidays/Snapemas Day 3+4

Gift Shopping & Ornaments & Smile & Snow // pre-PS/the years between. Minerva and Severus friendship aka Minerva McGonagall’s personal mission to make Severus love Christmas part 3 aka min and sev’s shopping adventures: diagon alley edition ft. emotional disaster sev

“Don’t forget, final essays are due next week!” Severus reminded his classroom of sixth year students as they cleaned up their work tables. “You’ve had three weeks to write them and I expect them all to be turned in.” He attempted to glare at the class, but no one paid him any mind.

Students exited his classroom in small groups of two and three, huddled together and laughing over meaningless jokes and plans for the afternoon.

“Hold up, this classroom is still a mess! You’re NEWT students, for Merlin’s sake, you should know better than to leave things like this!” He tried to call them back, but he was speaking to an empty classroom.

He sighed.

Being a professor at twenty-five was a fucking joke when no one took him seriously enough to respect him as an authority figure. It happened primarily with the older students, but even some of the other professors treated him as if he were still a student. Minerva seemed to be the only one who really saw him as a colleague and even she had her moments.

What was he supposed to do? Practice making scary faces in the mirror until he perfected the disappointed eyebrow raise and scowl? Assign more detentions? He’d thought dressing the part would make him look more authoritative, but now he wondered if he simply looked like a child playing dress-up when he walked around in the stupid teaching robes Narcissa Malfoy had helped him purchase.

Another sigh, but this one was shaky.

He surveyed the room and got to work, shutting drawers and cabinet doors. He double-checked the supply closet before locking it and levitated the abandoned cauldrons to the wash basin with the others, where they would wait for whichever unfortunate student had managed to get a detention from him that day. Idly, he wondered if he should ask Argus to monitor the night’s detention or if they would return in time.

He shook his head; he was running late.

Locking his classroom, he hurried into his office and shrugged out of his ridiculous teaching robes. They were nice and he loved the black stitch detailing, but he felt out of place when he wore them. He felt like, well, like a swot. He had other robes as well, namely faded grey work robes that he wore when he brewed potions for the infirmary, but they didn’t make him feel powerful or deserving of respect. These did, at least, so pretentious purple teaching robes it was.

He hung them up and took in the small room that had become his safe haven between classes over the years. It was a bit off a mess, but aside from his personal quarters, this was the only other place in the castle that really belonged to him. It was his space, from the still-steaming teacup of darjeeling - courtesy of a modified warming charm - waiting on his desk to the old copies of The Potioneer’s Journal stacked on the floor. There were four different books on his desk, two splayed out, hidden underneath a pile of assignments that still needed to be graded and about two dozen more scattered throughout the stone room.

He considered tidying up a little before he left, maybe watering his rather sad looking peppermint plant and organizing the scrolls of parchment. The mantle and bookshelf looked as if it needed a good dusting as well. This office was an extension of himself, was it not?

Minerva was waiting for him, he reminded himself.

But what if a student came calling, hoping for assistance? For Merlin’s sake, he was the head of Slytherin (and how the bloody hell that happened, he still had no idea), he couldn’t just leave and traipse around the wizarding world as if he had no other responsibilities! What if something happened to one of his snakes and they needed him? He had a job! What part of in loco parentis was he not -

He was stalling.

He was absolutely stalling.

(And it had nothing with his position and everything to do with going to Diagon Alley).

He forced himself to take a deep breath. His Slytherins would be fine and even if something happened, they still wouldn’t come to him for help because he still looked like a seventh year - and a socially uncomfortable, paranoia-fueled mess of one, at that. Merlin give him strength if the day ever came where he actually needed to take charge.

At least he hadn’t stuttered anymore after his very first class. That had been a right disaster and he hated that the second years who got to experience that moment would still be attending Hogwarts for another bloody year.

It took a few more deep breaths before he could convince himself to leave. He glanced down, decided that the black trousers and black jumper he’d pulled on from the pile of clothing that resided on his bedroom floor were clean enough for public wear, and grabbed his scarf. It was hand knitted and pale blue and alright a little wonky, but one of his snakes had given it to him and maybe he was a little sentimental over the physical proof that some of them liked him.

He summoned his winter cloak (and he had to rummage around his desk for the silver cloak pin he might have used to stab through a particularly abysmal homework assignment) and the dragonhide satchel he knew some of the students found him hilarious for carrying around, but what was he supposed to use? His robe pockets? Then it would be obvious he was casting unsanctioned extension charms on his things.

Definitely running late now, he headed upstairs and ran into Minerva on the stairs, who’d clearly been en route to retrieve him.

“Well, it’s about time.” she huffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was dark out already.” The words didn’t match her tone - gentle, and maybe a little concerned - and it turned his anxiety brittle. He didn’t need to be coddled.

“I was talking to a student.” he lied smoothly, adjusting his cloak so it felt more secure - made him feel more secure - and opened the front door.

“How was your class?”she asked mildly, as they stepped over the remnants of dirty, half-melted snow and made their way to the wrought iron gate.

He scowled and stared up at the sky, noting how overcast it was. “Frustrating.” he admitted, because Minerva was the only person he would ever admit that to. “It’s hard to believe they’re sixth years, for all they pay attention and listen to me.”

“They’re probably just excited for the coming break.”

“The first years are excited for the break and they behave far better than my NEWT students.” Severus’ scowl deepened. “I hate their class.”

“Just their class?” Minerva asked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

He took a moment to contemplate that. “No, but theirs especially.” he decided. “The fourth years and under take me seriously, but the others - I’ve got seventh year Slytherins who will go to you before they come to me!”

“So the ones who’ve only known you to be their professor?”

Severus stopped. “You have a point.”

“Look at it this way,” Minerva smirked, “just three more years and they’ll all take you seriously. Besides, you are young. I’m sure you still have a little more growing to do, dear.”

“Don’t make me hex you.”

“You’ll lose.” Minerva replied simply.

They apparated directly into Diagon Alley once they cleared the wards, appearing in the courtyard between Gringotts and The Leaky Cauldron. Daylight was beginning to dim, the late afternoon sky fading languidly into the cool tones of winter’s night, and the shopping district was quiet.

There were only a handful of wizards walking about, making their way between the brightly colored shops and market stalls. The Alley had prepared for the holidays as well, with their decorated storefronts and the oversized Christmas tree standing tall in the center of the plaza, adorned with hundreds of ornaments and a dizzying amount of silver tinsel. There was no snow on this side of the United Kingdom though, and against the bare, wet cobblestone streets, Diagon Alley didn’t look like rows of icing-coated gingerbread houses.

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

Minerva was watching him carefully and he offered a smile that felt more like a grimace. He didn’t hate shopping for others, but that rebellious part of him was - once again - determined to complain and make a scene. He hated that part of him, felt like he was pushing away the only person who made an effort to see him as a person and not, well, everything else he was. Traumatized child, former student, former Death Eater, child professor, take your bloody pick.

He tried for genuine excitement, for her sake.

Their first stop was a nearby coffee stall and once again, they purchased paper cups of hot coffee with peppermint and chocolate sauce. His mood brightened when he noticed these came with whipped cream and chocolate curls. They spent nearly an hour browsing through the nearby shops and market stalls before he finally relaxed enough to stop looking over his shoulder - there was no one around but very few harried shoppers and the occasional bellringer.

They were inside of Wiseacre’s, fiddling with the selection of crystal balls and reading their futures, when Severus laughed - genuinely laughed - for the first time since they had arrived in London.

Minerva cracked a grin at that before she schooled her face into something more severe. “Don’t laugh!” she admonished, rubbing her hands over the glass sphere. “I’m only telling you what it said: you will get everything you’ve ever wanted, through your looks and charm.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She huffed and tried a different one. “A new voyage will fill your life with untold memories.”

“Now that one sounds like a fortune cookie.”

“You try then.”

Severus shrugged and took the proffered ball. He ran his hands over the joke of a crystal ball and watched as it filled with smoke, turning warm and tingly beneath his fingertips. Tiny print appeared in a golden, curling font: “Your shoes will make you very happy today.”

He looked up and made eye contact with Minerva, exhaling the barest hint of another laugh as he thought of the puddles of slush they had walked through to leave Hogwarts and the impervious charm casted on his boots. He supposed it wasn’t too far off.

Another crystal ball caught his eye and he reached for it. It was clearly another counterfeit, but the stand it rested on seemed genuine enough - heavy and silver-plated. Three crescent moons gather to keep the crystal ball in place, the empty spaces between them interlaced with deep blue sapphires and hand carved runes.

He studied the runes for a moment, fairly certain they were a protection spell. “I think I’ll get this.” he announced, holding up the stand. He took the faux ball in his other hand, getting distracted when it filled with smoke and offered him another fortune: an unexpected acquaintance will resurface.

“For Sybill?” Minerva asked, half-paying attention as she thumbed through a collection of star charts. She looked up when she didn’t receive an answer. “Severus?”

Severus was scowling down at the fortune (although it felt more like a warning) and set it down amongst the others. He didn’t put merit in fortune-telling, let alone crystal balls that sold for less than six galleons and were meant for children. “For Sybill.” he nodded, walking away from the merchandise. He absolutely wasn’t thinking about boots and his paranoia of running into old friends that increased tenfold whenever he left the castle’s wards and how fortune-telling was the only reason he’d made rank within the Death Eaters in the first place.

The stand ended up costing him three galleons, which was more than he’d hope to spend on all of his gifts, but there’s a guilt that gnawed at him whenever he thought about Sybill Trewlaney and his time as a Death Eater at the same time; namely, how a conversation he’d had with the Dark Lord had nearly gotten her killed and it was enough to override his desire to shop frugally.

Minerva purchased a pendant for Aurora: frail lines of silver connected to tiny stars, making up constellations that changed with the position of the planets. It was beautiful and he wished he had seen it first, but he also knew Aurora liked reading romantic murder mysteries and he could think of a few titles she’d likely enjoy.

Not that he read romantic murder mysteries.

At all.

They left the wizarding equipment shop and continued with their browsing. The outdoor stalls were being illuminated by floating orbs now and warming charms had been cast over the next huddle of tables they approached.

Severus was studying a display of cloak pins when Minerva called his name.

He glanced over at her and found her holding up a box full of ornaments - red, green, and silver baubles with gold flakes that changed color - and a tiny, but determined-looking pewter witch mounted on a broomstick that was meant to fly around the tree.

“We’re getting these.”

“We are?” Severus asked, moving closer to rifle through the table she had grabbed them from. He grinned as he found a box of potion phials, brightly painted and stoppered to keep the glitter water inside from spilling out. “This is entirely inaccurate.” he sniffed, but he was still smiling like an idiot because of course he was nerdy enough to find potion bottle ornaments delightful. “Amortentia is definitely not pink and if someone ever hands you a Sleeping Draught that sparkles, they need to be arrested for attempted murder.”

Minerva laughed and they paid for the three boxes of ornaments and two white-fur trimmed stockings because Min had insisted they were a decorating requirement, but that they would need to purchase two because hers matched Elphinstone’s and she wasn’t quite ready to hang it up when she knew they were meant to be a pair.

The mood dampened a little after that admission and Severus found himself floundering. He didn’t know if he was meant to comfort her or how to even do it, so he grabbed the cloak pin he had been watching, a little bronze frog that leapt from its post and perched on your shoulder - absolutely useless as a fastener, but perfect for a distraction and invoking a smile - and claimed it was the ideal gift for Albus.

“It even looks like a chocolate frog.” he finished, handing the vendor fifteen sickles in exchange for the now-boxed-up pin. “He’s going to love it.”

Minerva’s faint smile was soft. “He will.”

They parted ways for the first time when they reached the bookshop. Minerva had something she wanted to get at Twilfit and Tattings and Severus waved her off, eager to finally enter Flourish and Blotts.

“Be good.”

He scowled at ordinance and mockingly saluted her as he headed inside. The bookstore was warm and softly lit, smelled of fresh parchment and chamomile tea. The shelves reached all the way up to the ceiling, wall-to-wall displays only broken by the burning fireplace and the collection of squishy, comfy-looking chairs gathered in front of it.

The shopkeeper waved at him as she organized a stack of new releases next to the shelf where the school textbooks were kept. There’s a beverage cart near the fireplace, holding a teapot and an assortment of mismatched mugs. He helped himself to a spot of chamomile and started to wander around, using his wand to summon books that seemed interesting enough to add to the growing pile floating behind him.

In the end, he decided on six books - two for Aurora, one for Argus, and three for himself.

The newly purchased stack fit easily inside his satchel, barely taking up any room beside the crystal ball stand, the stuffed kneazle - plush toy, not taxidermy - he had found at the Magical Menagerie for Hagrid, and all the other knick-knacks he had decided on. Not to mention everything else that already resided in there.

It wasn’t technically illegal.

Besides, it wasn’t his fault that undetectable extension charms were so advanced that not many wizards were able to do it properly. Furthermore, both Albus and Minerva were aware of it, and if anyone were to get in trouble here, his money was on the headmaster. He was confident in his spell-casting abilities and the worst that could happen was accidentally falling in and unable to find his way out - which wasn’t even that bad, considering he always carried around a medley of potions and snacks and even a blanket because he was that paranoid of being left out in the cold with no one to turn to.

He blinked.

Alright, maybe his abandonment issues were starting to make themselves known, but in his defense, Minerva had been gone for a good forty minutes now.

The point was, casting the charm was heavily frowned upon by the Ministry, but it wasn’t going to get him arrested either. He had worse things on his resume to choose from - and thank Merlin the Ministry of Magic never found out about the...unsavory potions he had been experimenting with around the time of his trial a few years back.

“Severus?”

He stiffened, flashes of smoke filled spheres and curling script flashing in his mind as he heard a voice that did not belong to Minerva. Tension coiled in his shoulders and he carefully secured the buckle on his satchel before he turned around and greeted the man who had decided to approach him.

“Severus Snape.” the man grinned wolfishly, blue eyes twinkling with delight. “As I live and breathe.”

“Corban Yaxley.” Severus greeted, taking in the other’s appearance. His hair had grown out since the last time he’d seen him and his honey-colored locks were pulled back in a low ponytail, accentuating his squared jaw and arched eyebrows. “What a pleasure to run into you.”

“Quite.” Yaxley grinned, the edges sharp. “How is Hogwarts? I heard you were made Head of House for Slytherin.” He took a step closer and leaned forward, his voice dropping as if they were conspiring next to the biographies. “An excellent opportunity to shape the minds of the future, don’t you think?”

Severus kept his face blank. “As well as one could expect,” he answered airily, as if he weren’t gripping his wand beneath the folds of his cloak tight enough to turn his knuckles white, “considering how brainless they all seem to be.”

Yaxley chuckled and leaned back, his posture appearing relaxed and friendly now, but Severus knew better than to trust a former Death Eater who had avoided going to Azkaban simply because he was that good of a liar.

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with their unruliness.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve picked up a trick or two to deal with that.” Yaxley winked and then raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Severus?” He stepped closer again. “You used to be so impressive.”

“All of that is irrelevant now.”

“Shame.”

The man was still smiling though and his eyes glinted with something that looked an awful lot like triumph when Severus broke and took a step backwards. He composed himself, but the fingers on his visible hand still clenched around the empty teacup he’d all but forgotten about. “How are things faring at the Ministry?” he deflected, proud when his words didn’t falter.

“Excellent, ever since I got this promotion.” Yaxley smirked. “Karkaroff might have turned traitor - and I can’t say I blame him, for all he’s accomplished: headmaster of Durmstrang, I hear - dropping names left and right in an attempt to hightail it out of Azkaban, but he really did me a solid by getting Rookwood sacked.”

“Glad to hear of it.”

Yaxley stepped closer again and murmured, “Glad to hear he didn’t take you down with him, though. I heard he named you, but I was in America on Ministry business during the Death Eater trials.” Severus could feel the man’s breath on his face and it caused his facade to falter as an awful feeling crept down his spine. “I’ve missed seeing you around, Sev. You’re not hiding out in that fancy castle of yours, are you?”

Severus shook his head, unable to speak.

“Good.” Yaxley’s smile turned saccharine as he put a hand on Severus’ shoulder.

The small bell over the door chimed as it opened, letting in a gust of cold air as someone entered, and it broke the spell. Corban Yaxley dropped his hand and headed for the door. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

Minerva was standing in front of him now, her eyes narrowed as she studied him carefully. “Alright?” she asked, and this time, Severus jumped - and for a split second, he wondered the psychology behind his body staying absolutely still some of the times he was surprised versus the times when he flinched - and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He couldn’t find the words to answer her, his mind heavily focused on the unpleasant weight he still felt on his arm, as if Yaxley were still touching him.

“Let’s get a bite to eat.” Min led him outside and he followed as if on autopilot. “We won’t make it back to Hogwarts in time for dinner.”

He didn’t know the time, didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not, but he also didn’t feel like returning to the bustle of students just yet, so he let her guide him through the white dusted streets of Diagon Alley. Snow had begun to fall, but he barely paid it any mind. He was still reeling, lost in his head as Minerva walked them through The Leaky Cauldron and right into muggle London.

He flinched when she put a hand on his arm, still thinking of Yaxley’s unwelcome touch, and her lips thinned as he choked out an apology. She shook her head and gestured to his cloak before transforming her own into a cream-colored coat. He understood then and raised his wand - still gripped tightly between very numb fingers - and fumbled his way through the spell, changing his wizarding apparel into a winter coat.

“Did you find something for everyone?” Minerva asked gently, as she led them down the street.

He tried to think of everything he bought, frowning when he realized he’d forgotten the one person whose gift mattered the most: hers. “Just about.” he mumbled, hating the way his voice betrayed his weakness. It was no wonder his students didn’t listen; he was pathetic. How he’d ever been able to lie to the Dark Lord and not get killed was beyond him. Perhaps Yaxley had a point: he used to be so impressive.

They entered the first open establishment they saw, a hole-in-the-wall pub with yellow paint and wooden paneling that had once seen better days, but the imperfections were overshadowed by the dozens of framed photographs that dated the place back to the fifties. The lights were hazy, casting an ambient glow onto the green vinyl seats, and soft music - jazzy Christmas songs, from the sound of it- was playing over the speakers, a strange contrast to the clinking of glasses and stifled laughter coming from the patrons at the bar.

Minerva requested a corner booth and took the side that kept her back to the door, wordlessly yet pointedly, and Severus exhaled with a relief he didn’t wish to admit to. They were offered a laminated menu, but Min ordered the special for them without enquiring anything about it - and Severus was beginning to see a pattern there - and two pints of the house ale, and he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or embarrassed for her help.

“I believe I found the perfect gift for Albus.” Minerva started talking, once they were alone again, and reached into a bright pink shopping bag from Gambol and Japes, pulling out a six inch slab of what looked like granite.

He stared at the object for a solid minute before he gave in and reached for it, taking the smooth square of white-speckled stone and examining it. It had no divots, no fault lines, no imperfections of any kind and he idly wondered if this was a very simplistic paperweight or an attempt to distract him from his impending anxiety attack. “I don’t get it.” he finally conceded.

“It’s a puzzle box.” Minerva took it back and turned it over a few times. “Only the most advanced spellcaster could ever dream of solving it.”

That piqued his attention and he reached for it again. “Hold on, I want to try.” He glanced around the pub before tucking his wand into the sleeve of his jumper and began casting a number of spells, starting with the most basic he could think of - it came from the joke shop, right? There was humor to be found in unexpected simplicity - and even casting a few that he definitely hadn’t learned at Hogwarts.

He gave up, frustrated.

Minerva, on the other hand, was grinning. “This will keep him entertained, don’t you think?” she asked, putting it away.

“It’s going to keep me up for the rest of my life.” Severus replied.

Their food arrived then, burgers on pretzel buns with grilled mushrooms and swiss cheese, and Severus was quick to reach for the chips. Whether it was her intention or not, the distraction had worked and now he worried that she would ask about his run-in with Corban Yaxley. Given the look on her face, it felt inevitable, so with a stifled sigh, Severus cast a whispered muffliato and a muggle repelling charm over them.

“Just say it, then.” he mumbled.

“Say what?”

He glared at her. “I ruined our outing with my overreaction, there at the end. I can tell you’re thinking it, so don’t bother lying to me.”

Minerva blinked and reached for her ale. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be in poor taste to gift Hagrid with a cookbook.”

“What?”

“Surely you’ve tried his rock cakes?” Min asked, biting into a chip. “I just feel he could benefit from a proper recipe. I’m sure he would be an excellent baker, if he just measured the flour correctly.”

He took the out for what it was. “You’d need to find a big enough copy of The Joy of Baking.”

They were nearly done with their meal, their glasses long empty - downsides to the repelling charm, he supposed - when Minerva asked quietly, “Are you alright?”

He nodded.

“Had fun?”

Again, he nodded, because he did have a good time. His chance encounter at the end hadn’t even gone badly - he always worried what would happen if he ran into an ex-Death Eater in public, worried he would choose his words wrong and give himself away. The Dark Lord might be gone, but his cover needed to remain intact, Merlin forbid, the worst ever happened. He just wished he had kept it together better.

He had to learn to keep it together better.

Minerva didn’t pry any further. He cancelled the spells while she talked about Filius’ plan to form a carolling group separate from the Frog Choir and then glared at her when she mentioned it was open to the staff as well, because he could tell where that conversation was going. They were interrupted by their server - small mercies - with their bill, and Severus rifled through his satchel for the muggle money he always carried.

They were standing just outside the door, shrugging back into their coats, when his attention was caught by a colorful flyer for a christmas lights festival.

“We should go.” he told Minerva and bit back a smirk at her surprise that he was suggesting an activity for them to do, instead of her.

“Really?”

“I recall you mentioning it was something you did with Elphinstone.” Severus kept his voice casual, shrugging the weight of what he was offering away. “I think we should go. This weekend.”

Minerva was still staring at the flyer, but when she finally replied, her voice was warm. “This weekend, then.”

-- a/n: maybe i got carried away again?? where’s the actual plot?? there isn’t one baby!! just 4.7k of general chaos

#snapemas2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #professor snape #snapcember #holiday writing challenge #snapemas

56 notes · View notes

niksixx · 4 years

Text

Patience

~The final part!! Thank you for reading and supporting this mini series. I hope you enjoy part 5.~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader

A/N: Reblog so others can see!

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner!*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @curly-hudson @julessworldd @madamsixx @headlight-queen @metalheartofgold @ginny-baker-sixx @mickmarstookmyheart @gunsngunners @bex-tothe-rescue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s raining again, and the weather outside matches your mood. Dark gray clouds cover the sky, and lightning strikes every so often. It’s one of the colder days in California, and you tug the sleeves of your sweater down to cover your wrists.

Vince hasn’t spoken to you in two days, and you haven’t heard from Axl since your boyfriend threatened him out of your house. You spent that day scrubbing the icing from the kitchen, tears sliding down your cheeks as Vince screamed at you the whole time. He left that night to visit a bar with Nikki, leaving you to cry softly in your bed. He didn’t return until the next morning.

Two days later, your lips still tingle from the kiss you and Axl shared. It was the first time in weeks you’d felt something. Something good. Something wholesome. The tenderness in the kiss kept you wanting more, wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

In your heart, there’s conflicting feelings. And no one is there for guidance. Whatever Axl feels for you is strong. It could be love, and you’re not sure if you feel the same thing.

Of course, all three of the Mötley boys would listen to you ramble about your troubles, but none of them were experts in the dating scene. None of them had been in love before, with the exception of Tommy, but he fell in love with every woman he laid eyes on.

There’s an ache in your heart as you sit by the television, thinking back on the past three years you spent with Vince. Times that you hid in the shadows away from paparazzi. Times where you watched music award ceremonies on television, a pain in your heart knowing that you’d never be on Vince’s arm congratulating him. What kind of a relationship was that?

Even in the privacy of your own home, Vince struggled to love you and care for you. He wasn’t affectionate by nature. He’d greet you with small little pecks on your cheeks or lips, and his sex drive was usually through the roof, but being intimate with Vince felt anything other than intimate. It felt like a chore, and you were bored within ten minutes. With Vince, there was no cuddling or showering after sex, no confessions of love. It was hard to be open and honest with him about your wants and needs, because half of the time he seemed uninterested, or played you off as needy, clingy. It hurt, especially because you’d do anything for him. Mick had always said you deserved better. And Axl had said it too. When were you going to believe it?

There’s faint footsteps behind you as your eyes are glued to the TV, catching the last bit of a Skid Row music video. They were good, sure, but nothing compared to Motley Crue or even Guns N’ Roses.

There’s a change of scenery on the TV that makes you blink twice. It’s a live video, currently happening right at that moment, as Axl and his bandmates settle themselves into stools in an empty studio.

“Get them off my screen,” Vince calls from behind you. He sits at the dining room table, beer bottle suffocating in his grasp.

You don’t even pay him much mind. “You can leave if you don’t like it. I’m keeping it on.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight back, but you hear him mumble a few curse words under his breath. The last words out of his mouth sound like a defeated “I give the fuck up with you.”

On screen, Axl is handed a microphone as more are distributed to the rest of the band. Tilting your head slightly, you drink in his appearance, obsessed with the way he presents himself. He’s more casual today, with both a bandana and a hat on his head, a short sleeve white shirt that shows off his unique tattoos, and tight leather pants that shouldn’t look as good on him as they do.

“This was a spur of the moment type of thing,” he says shyly, rubbing a palm on his thigh. Nervous habit. “We wrote this song in about two hours a few nights ago and the reason I was eager to play it today...is because I wrote it for a woman who I’ve been shamelessly in love with since I was sixteen years old.”

Something in the air shifts. Slack mouthed, you sit up straight as you turn up the volume. The sound of a chair scratching against the floor has goosebumps littering your skin, and before you know it Vince is standing beside you, gritting his teeth. He takes a long swig of the alcohol, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, before setting his jaw, folding his tanned arms across the front of his black muscle tee.

“So Y/N, if by some miracle you’re watching this right now, I want you to know that you were the only person on my mind as we wrote this song. It is solely, purely, for you.”

“Along with all the other love songs he’s written,” Izzy deadpans.

Vince’s eyes burn into the side of your head, but all your attention is directed toward the television as Axl begins to hum a soft tune.

~~~

It’s almost as if you forget how to breathe. It’s an easy process, in and out, in and out, but you struggle with something so simple as the song ends.

Vince hasn’t moved. His face is still visibly flushed, knuckles the palest shade of white as his hand still grips his beer, but he stands completely frozen, eyes boring into the television screen.

You shift uncomfortably on the sofa, pushing your feet deeper into the back of the couch underneath you, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your fuming boyfriend’s elbow. He pulls away, uninterested, and he sips the remaining liquid in the bottle.

“Vinnie…”

“The dude just doesn’t listen,” The laugh that falls from his lips is anything but humorous. It’s empty and dark. There’s an edge to his low voice, and while it’s not angry, it’s...cool. Even. It frightens you. “How many times do I have to tell him to stay away from you? How many different fucking ways can he come up with to get your attention?”

“Vince I had no idea he was going to do something like this.”

But hell, if it wasn’t the most romantic thing a man has ever done for you. He’d broadcasted to the world his raw feelings and emotions, and there was something so sexy about a man who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable and knew what, or who, he wanted. And the song, so sweet and meaningful, confirmed your suspicions. Axl Rose, the little boy from the playground, the man who sang his heart out on live TV, was in love with you.

Vince shakes his head, clapping a closed fist into an open palm. “This is your fault, you know.”

You blink, standing from the couch, folding your arms over the oversized green sweater. “My fault?”

He takes a step forward, but this time you don’t back down. “You let him back in your life. For seven years you’ve been fine without him, but all of a sudden you meet him one day on the street and decide you apparently can’t live without him? Bullshit.”

“He was my best friend!”

“And I’m your boyfriend!” Vince shouts back. He takes another step forward, nose to nose, and with the strength you gather from your very core, you shove him out of your face.

“You’re nothing!”

The anger in your voice shocks you, startling Vince. He stumbles against the dining room chair, holding onto the arm to regain his balance.

The air between you sizzles with resentment as Vince licks his lips, chewing on the skin. You're both breathing heavily, neither one backing down. “What did you say to me?”

And everything you've been feeling for the last few years comes out in a wave. “I can’t be with you anymore, Vince. I can’t be with someone who is so controlling of my life. I can’t be with someone who would rather please his record label than his girlfriend. I have been waiting for you to wake up for three years now and realize that I deserve better than what you’re giving me.”

“What the fuck have I done that is so bad, huh?” Vince yells, throwing up his arms. “Tell me. Because I sure as shit don’t know.”

It’s hopeless.

He’s hopeless.

And there’s nothing else you can do besides give up.

~~~

You fight for two hours. Screaming, crying, followed by more screaming and crying. It’s exhausting. Somehow, after pointing out everything Vince has done to you, or what he hasn’t done, he convinces himself he’s never been the problem. And that’s when you realize he’s never going to change.

Your phone has buzzed four times in those two hours, but whoever it was would have to wait. There was too much going on, your head was spinning, skin sweating, heart beating wildly. You were on the brink of ending your relationship after wasting three years of your life trying to convince yourself the man, who was currently nestled in the couch nursing another beer, loved you.

Letting out a defeated sigh, your feet drag against the wooden floor as they carry you to your room. There’s a small duffel bag under the bed and you grab it, fishing out some clothes and stuffing it into the bag. Grabbing a few of your necessary toiletries, you shove them in the side pockets as Vince watches from the doorway.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not staying here. I’ll go stay at Lei’s or maybe my parents or hell maybe even Mick will let me stay over, but I’m not staying here.”

“We still have a lot to talk about.”

The closet door slams closed as your blood boils. “No, Vince. We have nothing to talk about. Not anymore.”

You zip up the duffel and heave it to the living room, slipping on a pair of beat up Chuck Taylors. You pace the house for your keys, Vince following, watching your every move.

“I love you.”

You stop abruptly, spinning around, sucking in shallow breaths of air. No way. No fucking way was he going to manipulate you into staying. Not with those three goddamn words you longed to hear after such a long time.

“You don’t even know what love is, Vince.”

“Kiss me and I’ll show you.”

You find the keys to your car on the kitchen counter, snagging them from the tile. “I’m not kissing you, Vince. Never again.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing left!” Heaving the duffel onto your shoulder, you grab your phone and slide it into the side of the bag. “Fuck, at least with Axl I felt something!”

Vince freezes, veins popping out from his forehead. Fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, your mouth dries as you mentally scold yourself for the slip of the tongue.

“He...kissed you?” And for the first time in his life, Vince looks almost...upset. “And you kissed him back?”

Drumming your fingers on your jean clad thigh, you rub your palms against the fabric, wiping off the sweat. “Um…”

“Did you kiss him back?” Vince asks, emphasizing each word. “Yes or no?”

You can’t bring yourself to say it. So you don’t.

But no answer is always an answer.

In a flash, Vince is flying out the door, and you’re following just behind him. He throws open the door to his car, turning the key in the ignition, and fishes his phone from his jeans pockets, quickly dialing before holding it to his ear. “Sixx, what’s the address to Slash’s apartment? He still lives with the rest of ‘em, right?”

All the blood rushes to your cheeks when you realize what Vince is about to do. Throwing yourself at him, you try to pry the phone from his ear, but he stiffarms you, keeping you from the phone. “Don’t worry about what I’m going to do, man. Just tell me the damn address, I know you know it. You did coke with the guy for fucks sake.”

“Vince, please don’t do this.”

A wicked gleam shines in his eyes, and you hear Nikki recite the address on the other end of the line. Frantically, you run to your car, throwing open the door, only to see Vince take off down the street.

~~~

When you pull up to the apartment, Vince is quickly climbing the stairs, cracking each knuckle. Grabbing your bag from the passenger’s seat, you stagger out of the car, locking it, before climbing the steps two at a time. “Vince, stop!”

He sprints down the hall, too fast for you as you heave the bag further up your shoulder. You watch as he knocks loud and hard on the door, and when it opens, he forces himself inside the apartment.

You hear Duff’s voice. “What the fuck--.” He peeks his head out, eyes widening when he sees you hobbling over. “Y/N? What is going on?”

By the time you reach the door, Vince has Axl pinned against the wall. From the kitchen, Izzy watches, horrified, as Steven and Slash pull on Vince’s shoulders.

“Stop!” Dropping the duffel by the door, you sprint across the room, pulling the two boys away. The last thing you need is someone getting hurt. “Vince, get off him!”

By some miracle, he lets go.

“You want to tell us what’s going on?” Steven directs to no one in particular, hands on his waist.

“How many times do I need to threaten you, Rose?” Vince asks, nostrils flaring as he glares at the startled redhead. “Because clearly, once wasn’t fucking enough.”

“Vin--.”

“She doesn’t fucking want you,” Vince continues. Axl fidgets under his gaze. “No song, no kiss, and yeah, I fucking know about that, too, will ever make her want you. You’re a pathetic excuse of a man. Your daddy didn’t want you, your step-daddy didn’t want you, and my girlfriend sure as fuck doesn’t want you.”

Your heart stills when Axl’s face falls. His father had always been a touchy subject. Though Axl hadn’t remembered much about his biological dad, there was still trauma hidden deep within as his brain tried to block it out. You were the first person Axl had told about the abuse, as he was a victim of both his biological father and step father. You were there for him then, and just like you promised all those years ago, you’d be here for him now.

Vince backs away and you seize the advantage, positioning your body between them. Letting an open palm fall behind you, your heart bursts with love when another hand slides into yours.

Vince eyes your entwined hands, letting out a shaky laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“We’re done, Vince. You have hurt me for the very last time, and I will not stand here and let you hurt Axl. I simply won’t. Axl is a good man with a good heart and he always has been. And I know he loves me. He’s proved it,” Glancing back over your shoulder, you offer Axl a smile. His eyes are full of love as he watches you, squeezing your hand encouragingly. “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

There’s nothing Vince can say. He can’t fix it. He can’t change. He’s lost you to a better man, a man that knows what he wants, and how to love someone the way they need to be loved.

He looks around the room, fists balled by his sides. Frowns, narrowed eyes, and bared teeth are directed toward him.

From the kitchen, Izzy is the first one to open his mouth. “You have three seconds to get your ass out that door before I call the police.”

With burning eyes, Vince backs away to the door, keeping his gaze locked on your face. “You’re going to regret this.”

He’s met with a confident shake of your head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

At the door, Duff gives Vince a warning stare. The blonde bassist towers over the scrawny blonde singer, looking even more intimidating in his leather apparel. Vince gives him a look before crossing the threshold, and Duff doesn’t hesitate shutting the door in his face.

Tension leaves your shoulders, the boys in the room letting out loud sighs of relief. You turn, lips turning upward. “I heard the song.”

Axl’s face softens. Sliding his hands around the sides of your neck, he pulls you close, foreheads just barely touching. “I figured. And you should know I meant every word.”

You don’t care that there are four boys watching you.

You don’t care that your eyes are shining with unshed tears.

You don’t care that you just ended a three year relationship.

All you care about is the moment when you push forward and kiss the lips in front of you with a fervent need. Arms circle your waist, pulling you deep as lips kiss you deeper. You cling to Axl’s shirt, never wanting to be apart from him again. But you know in your heart he’ll never let you go.

The warmth of his body dissipates when you pull back for a breath, the tips of your fingers grazing over the angles of his jaw, his cheekbones, and slowly coming back to the outline of his lips. They purse together, gently kissing the soft pads of your skin.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” Axl murmurs, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter at the sincerity in his voice.

“Oh, bullshit,” Duff laughs, leaning against the door. “He’d marry you tomorrow if he could.”

“Lovesick fool,” Slash chuckles in agreement, arm resting on Izzy’s shoulder.

“They’re not entirely wrong,” Axl says with a wink. “But the name of the song is Patience for a reason. We have all the time in the world, sugar.”

“I mean, you waited over seven years already, what’s another seven?” Steven jokes heartily.

Hands sliding around Axl’s neck, you pull him toward you once more. He dips to kiss you, and you savor in the feeling. Yeah, you’ll definitely get used to this.

“According to Izzy, you have a few other songs you wrote for me,” you say with a wiggle of your brows. “What do you say you sing them for me?”

In those perfect gray eyes, there’s nothing but love. And you feel it in your heart that you’re beginning to love him, too. Maybe you won’t have to be patient after all. Love is natural, and with Axl, you don’t have to force it.

He whisks you away to his room, serenading you as you lie comfortably in his arms. He knows the songs by heart, and each one is unquestionably unique with different tones and melodies.

Turning in his arms, he continues to sing as you gaze at his face. So calm. So peaceful. So breathtakingly beautiful. And you realize now that somewhere in your heart, you had always loved that little boy on the playground.

And you were in love with the man he became.

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neverendingstories00 · 4 years

Text

Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.3)

Summary: Safin takes you on a tour of your new home and offers an interesting proposition.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: n/a

A/n: Guys, sometime needs to take my labtop away. Safin is 100% going to be the death of me. I cannot stop thinking about this pyscho man PLEASE rearrange my guts. Anyways, school is starting for me tomorrow (today since i’m posting this at like 2:30am). I’ll try and get Ch.4 out asap since that’s where the drama is gonna rise. Also, thank you for all the support and comments! I’m gonna respond to them all tomorrow, I promise. I love ya’ll and enjoy the story!! ❣️❣️

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Three days had gone by. You refused to leave your room after Safin’s temper tantrum. Three days in isolation weren’t the worst thing in the world even if you had no idea where you were. The room Safin had given you was elegant and bigger than your old flat. It was like if Japanese Zen had met modern times. A living room with endless books and plants connected to a bedroom and large bathroom. You felt like you were in a fancy hotel. Inside of the bathroom was a freestanding club that outlook a rock garden. Of course, you had tried to break the glass or crawl out one of the closet vents, but everything had been locked shut. At one point, you had felt the room had been made just for you (which it probably had been). Safin must have had a lot of time on his hands to be able to construct it. The books that were on the shelves were the same books you owned a home, the candles were all lavender and cherry blossom, and even the small amount of clothes he had offered and gotten your sizing in were accurate to your taste. It was oddly amiable, but alarming that he knew so much about you.

As you finished making your Feng Shi bed, you heard a gentle knock at the door. With years in the military, you had recognized footstep patterns. Safin had light but quick footsteps, his boots always making a clicking noise.

“Good morning Y/n.” He says, his cold accented voice slightly muffled behind the door. “I wanted to come and apologize for my uncivilized manner a few nights ago. I didn’t realize that you would be in such a sensitive state. I believe adjusting to new surroundings can be quite difficult. The way I acted certainly didn’t help with that. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even want to respond. If you could survive on your own in the wilderness for a month, then you could survive in a lavish bedroom in the middle of god no’s where until-

Oh right. There weren’t coming.

“It truly bothers me that you feel the need to isolate yourself in that room.” Safin. Instead of sounding condescending, he seemed genuine and even beseeching. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink.”

“I’m fine, thank you though.” You coldy reply, seeing it as a facade. Safin was an anarchist, insane and cruel. “You’re a solid actor though, I’ll give you that.”

Safin sighs but doesn’t give in to anger or defeat. “For what I did to you, you have every right to upset at me. I’m upset at myself. I’m sorry for scaring you into isolation, my dear. It was not my intention.”

You refuse to respond, crossing your arms as you hear him let out a loud sigh. Safin looks at the nearest object to throw in frustration but stops himself for her.

“Y/n, I need you to understand that under no circumstance, that I will ever hurt you. You are a resident, not a prisoner. I want to show you my..” He freezes. It’s not a home, it’s a lair. But for y/n’s sake, it was there home. “I mean, our home. It will be short, and I will get you something to eat. After that, I will not bother you if you accompany me for just one hour.”

Two sides of you were battling with each other. The younger and more stubborn part of you wants to say a snarky remark and tell him to kindly fuck off. But the wiser and more calm side of you says that your starving and need to get out. You don’t sympathize with his actions and hate him more than anything in the world. The man threatened to hurt your friends and family if you didn’t obey his commands. But If he was going to hurt you, then why hasn’t he killed you yet? What was the point of keeping you there, knowing that you could possibly kill him with anything? Safin has stalked your whole life, from your clothing sizes to your military history.

You freeze as your fingers fiddle with each other. Letting the villain win always bothered you. But he offered you food and freedom for an hour. He had better kept to his promise. Looking at the door, you break the silence. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

He responds, “Take your time.”

Walking over the closet, you look at the outfits organized by monotone colors. Everything seemed the same as you searched for something that wasn’t oversized on you. Eventually, you came down to wearing a black turtleneck, light grayish blue kimono jacket, and olive peg pants with black boots. The clothes were oddly comfortable and looked more expensive than your shitty flat. You hated wearing tight and revealing clothes, so it was doable. Looking in the mirror before you leave, you see your eyes. They’re tired from crying and sleepless nights. Your body had no energy as your stomach rumbled and throat thirsted for water. The last person you wanted to see was Safin, but you truly had no choice.

Opening the door, you see him standing in front of it with a straight posture and hands behind his back. A subtle smile appeared on his face, seeing you walk out.

“You look lovely, y/n.” He compliments as you walk side by side. He thought you could pull anything off and still looking amazing. You looked at him and nod, a silent response of “thank you”.

As you walk down the hallway, Safin noticed y/n limping more than walking. He made sure Serrano and his men had there asses yelled at. They had done everything they weren’t supposed to do; treat you like an animal, hurt, and embarrass her. No wonder y/n hated him, he thought she was going to be a prisoner or some toy for Safin to fiddle around with. As much as Safin yearned for her beauty, he saw her talent and intelligence. She would be useful in many ways.

In an attempt to be a gentleman, he held his arm out for her for support. Y/n, being the woman she was, silently and polarity declined this offer. Safin found it darling that she was so stubborn, refusing the help of others even if she needed it. Seeing you limp and silently groan made Safin’s stone cold heart drop. He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t help this sweet, little y/n. In a devilish move, Safin tucked his arm under her hand, linking them both. Her clutched fist dangled in his tight hold, wanting to resist. Seeing her [y/s/c] burn up, Safin softly smiled at her. She eventually gave him as her fist unclenched, softly leaning onto him.

The hallways were long and large, lit by hidden lights. From what you could tell, it seemed like an abandoned Russian military site that had been reconstructed by Safin. It was all concrete and void of any color or life. The Architecture was Raw, brutalist, extraordinary. Taking you up a dark hallway, Safin showed you a bright hallway, full of mustard yellow art. Leading you under a dark tunnel, it revealed a large, empty room. In the middle of the room was a large low black table with cushions, and that was it. On the sides were rock gardens full of shrubs and bamboo. You could hear a running river disconnect the gardens from the concrete gray floor. A few guards stared at you for linking arms with Safin. Seeing them whisper made you look down. Safin had noticed and looked at the men, who had fear in there eyes as they stood straight.

Safin explained that his room was where he and Serrano (or other co-workers in his words) would discuss their ordeals. He saw the light in y/n’s slowly disappear, seeing her thoughts run to something else. There wasn’t really much to show considering that Safin was the only man who inhabited the submarine pen. The soldiers and Serrano resided on another part of the island. He didn’t want to bore y/n but wanted to make sure she was adjusted with her new home.

“Are you enjoying everything, my dear?” He asked, Y/n looked up and nodded in response. She looked exhausted and upset, trying to hide it. Her once glowy [y/s/c] skin was turning lifeless and grey. Safin could see that you were miserable and depressed. He knew being trapped in the submarine pen wasn’t ideal, he had been doing it for years and was ever so alone. Having the company of a woman was something he desired more than anything. Over the years his man had brought him women, but they refused to lay with because of his scars. Safin hated seeing the once joyful and bright light he saw in you.

No words came out of your mouth. You once again nod in response, forcing a faked and sad smile. Safin heart breaks seeing you so silent and upset. His grasp tightens on your arm, to squeeze some reassurance into your dying soul.

“My dear, please speak to me.” He gently cooed, looking into her [y/e/c] orbs.

“I’m fine, just please continue…” You sigh in frustration.

Not knowing what to say, Safin simply continues. It had been years since he had touched or even been close to a woman. Having you here with him was a dream come true. He hated having you sleep all by yourself that was in the opposite quarters of him. All he could imagine was y/n’s soft cries into her pillow from giving up on life. He knew what would hopefully cheer you up. Walking up a spiral staircase, Safin opened the door for you to exit. Upon exiting, you were greeted with a beautiful view. Safin allowed you to walk to the edge to admire the breathtaking view. Not one cloud was in the bright, blue sky. The top of the submarine pen was covered in the island’s rich plants. You truly were in the middle of nowhere, you could have been in the Medaterrian or off the coast of Africa. The Island was so beautiful on the outside, yet so depressing and ugly on the inside. The sun shined onto your skin as you felt the gentle breeze through your hair.

You stand on the edge, seeing that the only island in the distance was you. You were surrounded by miles of water, along with the world’s most feared Anarchist. “It’s so..”

“Breathtaking.” He breathed, standing right behind you. You turn around, somewhat scared by how close he was. Your [y/e/c] met with his milky orbs. His face was grey and dark, his sleek black hair, and dark navy clothes were so dark except for his eyes. He had an usual and exotic face. But his eyes were beautiful and mesmerizing. “Just like you, my dear.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. What had been a nice moment turned into Safin trying to subtly flirt, or so that’s what you thought. “Can you please call me y/n?”

A small frown appeared on Safin’s arms. He’s confused about why you don’t enjoy his attention. “Why not, my sweet?”

“Because I’m not your partner,” You clarify. The way those words rolled over his lips made you squirm and your cheeks burn.

“Whatever you say, my little dove.” He smiles, holding you close. A disgusted “ugh” escapes from your mouth. The time you had outside makes you feel somewhat better. Feeling the sun and wind against your skin felt so normal in your little fucked up world.

Safin tried to pull you closer to him, but you pull away. Even if he was trying to be a “gentlemen’, he was still an anarchist who wanted to kill millions and overthrow the government. All you knew was that you weren’t going to fall in love with him, ever. You shrug him off, looking away from him.

“How did you find this place?” You ask to break the silence.

“Me and Serrano discovered this place when I had left Spectre,” He explains, looking around the gardens before back at y/n. “It was an abandoned communist Submarine Pen. Nobody inhabited it, so I simply took it as my own. I was based in Okinawa before I denounced, so I took slight inspiration from the gardens.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Denounced Spectre?”

“One of my targets resurfaced, a young woman. A woman who I spared...who I loved,” Safin stated, “I had let them go and let them live a comfortable life. She promised herself to me, but loved another man...and birthed his child when she was mine. Spectre wanted her alive, I wanted her and her whole family dead. When they didn’t let me kill all of them, I killed every agent I could. All of them.”

Chills had been sent down your spine. When Safin didn’t get his way, he used violence. You never knew Spectre’s downfall, but all along it had been his man. No wonder Bond was able to take them down; it was all because Safin had practically murdered half of them in a rage since he couldn’t kill his ex-lover’s family. Your thoughts began to race. If you didn’t do as Safin pleased, would he truly kill you? Who could have ever loved someone such as Safin? Too many questions came to your mind.

“So, that’s what you do.” You noted, raising your eyebrows. “Kidnap women and force them to fall in love with you?”

Safin’s face scrunches up with anger, “No, she was different. She was a whore. I never hurt her. I spoiled her and loved her. She betrayed me. But you...” He looks at you with his expressions softening. “Are different. Out of all the women I have encountered, you y/n...are different.”

“That’s all you men come up?” You snort, staring right into his eyes. “Say that were different and then only use us for our bodies? You’re different, Safin. If you don’t get what you please, you act out. You use violence and kill.”

Safin looked at y/n, seeing the smirk on her face. She knew how obsessed he was with her, the anarchist obsessed with the cyrptographer. Safin had no intention of killing you and couldn’t bring himself to kill the woman he was madly in love with. Instead of becoming upset, he saw through you. All y/n was doing was poking the bear, refusing to give into Safin. Safin knew her antics all too well.

“Your hands are not clean either, y/n,” He debated. “Three hundred and thirteen men is a large kill count for such a young woman…”

In your short time in the military, you had achieved one of the highest kill counts in your ranking. Everyone knew you as the girl who never missed. From surviving alone in Serbia and crawling out of building rubble in Iraq, you were respected and feared. But that had been in the past when you still were young and had sanity. Now you were older, wiser, and even more broken. The military had changed your life drastically.

Safin truly knew how to dig under your skin and make you upset. He wanted to see you weak and feel stronger. You refused to let him. A small voice in your head kept telling you, “ Don't play his game. Play yours.”

“ Safin, you’re the most accomplished stalker I’ve ever met” You chuckle. He’s oddly smiling like nothing was wrong.

“A beautiful bird cannot freely fly in a cage.” The anarchist response, a small smile on his face. He relinked your arms as you walked back inside of the submarine pen.

Safin saw y/n, once acting up again. Seeing her make small “hmphs” and look away softly made Safin chuckle. He kept telling himself that with time, she would fall in love with him. Y/n was a young and stubborn woman who didn’t go down without a fight. Once Safin had her, he wasn’t going to let her go. Y/n was all Safin’s now. All the anarchist ever desired was to have company in his lonely lair. Not only someone to love but someone he could talk to and even work with. Y/n was the woman of his dreams who he had yearned for. She had to fall in love with him. She didn’t have another choice.

Safin let her slide away but still kept their arms linked. A part of him wanted to carry her to there next location, but he knew that she would probably punch him. In his spare time, Safin spent hours preparing the submarine pen for Y/n’s arrival. The bedroom was designed to fulfill her needs, but that wasn’t the only place that was meant for her.

“Close your eyes,” He says as you arrive at a large door.

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, immediately protesting. “Your going to trap me in a room where I cannot escape, aren’t you?”

“You are a guest, not a prisoner.” Safin reminded. You roll your eyes, deciding to go alone. Closing your eyes, Safin’s opens the door and leads you in. Taking small steps into the room, you can bear water running and birds chirping. A light that wasn’t artificial was projecting onto your skin. Opening your eyes, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

You were inside of a large glass atrium that had an open ceiling, showing the sun and cherry blossom tears. Their sakura petals fell into the garden, a few landing on your clothes and hair. Like all of the other gardens in the submarine pen, it was inspired after a Japanese Zen Garden but with color. There were Cherries, Bamboo, Camellias, Lavender, and a range of other flowers. Out of all of the places in your cold and unwelcoming home, this place had shined the brightest. It brought a true smile onto your face. Letting go of Safin, you walk down into the shrubs and are greeted with a small pond and a chabudai with a teapot and two cups.

“Would you like to have some tea?” Safin offers. You turn around and nod, a smile still on his face. Your not smiling at him, but the beauty of the garden. Before, the flat you had lived in was too small to host a garden (you also lived in the heart of Chelsea). As a substitute, your garden was a bunch of homemade terrariums and flowers. It felt like ethereal heaven.

The two of you sit down in the garden. Safin loves to see you so memorized with all of the plants. He had been in your apartment a few times when you weren’t there. He didn’t know how you managed to live in such a contained space. He had noticed all of the flowers and candles you had kept around and tried to replicate it best. He wasn’t doing something for himself, but his y/n.

“ Your smile is like the flowers in the spring.” He compliments. You look at him as you admire the diverse range of flowers that surround you. “It’s divine.”

“Oh..” You say as you feel your cheeks burn. This man was not going to stop until he got what he wanted. Safin went from kidnapping you to giving you a beautiful garden, along with subtle flirting. You weren’t really into dating much and never were hit on, even if you were a young woman. “Um, thank you..?”

He pours you a cup of Chai tea, and the two of you sit there, drinking in silence. Safin refuses to take his eyes off of you, admiring your every breath you take. Seeing you look at the flowers, fiddle with the cup, and small strands of hair fall into your face as you push them behind your ear. Everything about you was so magical to Safin. No matter what, Safin was going to make y/n fall in love with him. The two of you had enjoyed your tea in peace. Out of all of the madness, being in the gardens brought you peace.

Safin had let you enjoy the moment until he asked the question that he had been pondering about. “Do you love me?”

You nearly spit your tea out. Safin had been subtly flirting with you, but hearing him say the world love made you nearly choke. His face looked surprised, waiting for an answer. You had barely been around this man for a week, and he was already claiming he loved then. Then again, he did stalk you.

“I..um..no?” You spit, furrowing your thick eyebrows. The question had caught you completely off-guard.

Safin smiles, nodding at the response. Although upset at your answer, he knows that you will eventually have to give into him. Safin always got what he wanted, no matter the cost. “Fair enough, you will come around with time.”

The younger and more stubborn part of you would have loved to throw the tea into his hideous face and beat him. But it wasn’t so simple. Safin was a dangerous and mysterious man. The reason Europe was probably going to go into a civil war was because of him. M16 was probably going to have it’s a downfall because his blood became tainted on your hands. Not only were your friends were at risk, but so was your family. Safin had made a threat that if you didn’t comply, then he would...hurt them for you to love you. You couldn’t love a man that would hurt your family and drag them into your mess.

So you did the selfless act. You, a young woman, sacrificed yourself to Safin so your family could be safe from him. You would comply but at a price. No matter the cost, you wouldn’t give Safin exactly what he wanted.

Y/n was giving him the silent treatment again. Her face scrunched up as she looked away, annoyed.

“More like a thousand years.”

“Listen to me, my dear. I will strike a deal. Every night, I will ask you at dinner if you love me. Tell me no as much as you want. I don’t care how long it takes for you to come to your senses.” Safin proposes his plan. He sees y/n’s sudden interest with his “idea.”

“And when I do?”

“The next day will be your wedding day.”

Your jaw almost drops to the ground. Safin was an insane man; you already knew that. He was delusional enough to think that you were going to love him, but marry? That was a whole other level.

“You told Q in Athens you wanted to fall in love before you married, so I have given you however long you need.” He reassures. “But I know it will happen.”

You look at him with pure hate in your eyes. Words could barely process in your mind. You clench your teacup so tightly that you don’t even care if it begins to burn your palms. Safin had a smile on his face. He stood up and walked over to you, helping you up.

“I can get up myself, thank you very much,” You grumble as you walk ahead of him. Safin catches up and walks right beside you, seeing your anger. He pulls you closer than he did last time, tightly holding onto you. He knew that you weren’t going to protest if your family and friends were on the line. As you walk back to the bedroom, you feel relieved since being with Safin is emotionally exhausting. You mentally declare that he is one of the most insane men you had ever come across.

He stops in front of the door. A pissy “goodbye” leaves your mouth before Safin takes your hand, spinning you around. Your faces are even closer now. He smells like an expensive cologne with his haunting, big green eyes. The scars on his face aren’t burns, but horrid cuts that mutated his whole face. His hands were cold and rough from all of the scars. Safin doesn’t speak at all and just looks at your face in a creepy manner.

You feel his fingers brush against your skin as he puts a camellia behind your hair. Safin backs away, a smile on his face as he adores you. Out of all of the gloom in his life, y/n was ever so bright. She had been caught off guard when he placed the flower in her hair. His beautiful bride to be.

“I thought it would go well with your hair,’ He purrs as his fingers stroke it. “Anything would look lovely on you.”

Holding back at eye-roll, a soft sigh escapes your lips. “Thanks…”

“I hope you enjoyed our time together. The garden is for you and only you. Feel free to wander as you please. After all, this is our home now.” He slowly backs away, seeing your eyes watch him disappear down the fall. “I will be pack to pick you up for dinner at seven. Goodbye, my sweet y/n.”

Once he disappeared, you retreat back to your room and slam the door. You see yourself in the mirror with a bright flower in your hair. The hair you had combed had been touched by Safin, making you cringe. As much as you hated him, this new place was your home. This would be your life from now on, whether you liked it or not. Your family and friends’ lives were on the line. It wasn’t such a horrible life. The submarine pen was void of all life but lavish. If being in love with Safin meant your mother and sister would be safe, then so it be. You couldn’t believe you, a simple cryptographer, was the Anarchist’s, true love. Sighing in the mirror, you ask yourself a question that will never be answered.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

#rami malek x reader #safin x reader #safin #rami malek #no time to die #james bond #my writing

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huearmy · 4 years

Text

Life Is Beautiful - II

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is “Life is too short to… Insert something and anything here”. During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, mature (not really a smut i guess?)…

Words: 8593.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter I - Chapter III .

Dating is a very mortal thing, very human thing. Because mortals believe in love and want it, as they live for such a little time and die so easily, they are seeking for it every time, afraid that they will never ever find this great noble sentiment, a person to call theirs, to take care and be cared of. Vampires on the other hand have no need to be afraid of these fleeting things. Most times when they have an interest in other vampires, they just act on it, whether to periodic casual encounters, ether to live an endless affection in the empty eternity, just let's move it together. It is not common for vampires to fall in love - in fact most do not even believe in the word love - so no feelings are wasted, even the most superficial ones like the carnal impulses or the need for company. That's because existence is too long and feelings are few. When it happens it is unmistakable. For mortals it is precisely the opposite. Too many feelings for a short life. This creates an irrational anxiety and fear of choosing the wrong person, someone that isn't for them, and ending up just wasting time of their ephemeral lives. That is why dates are so important, it is a test. If it is a good experience it is a sign to continue, if it is bad go to the next option.

Jimin always wanted to have such experience. He likes the romance of mortals, which takes place at a slow and smooth pace like in books and movies, and he wanted to try. He just never got interested enough in anyone to think about actually asking them out... until now. Today he has a date with you.

He ran to his closet to choose an outfit - he already had four options ready in his head, but he needed to prove it to see which one would look better. He was just so excited you said yes! He was so eager to see how you will dress up, because of course, you are already beautiful, but the idea is to try to look even more beautiful to go on a date, and imagining you doing this thinking about him makes Jimin smile until his eyes disappear in two half moons. ________________________________________________________________

Taehyung was laying upside down on his bed, lazyly throwing a ball to Yeontan chase it, again, again and again. On the old record player there was a vinyl that he bought almost a century ago, filling the air in the room with jazz. His feet bounce site to side on the rhythm of the bass and he is tempted on singing along. He couldn't - because he wouldn't even try - remember the first time he heard this song, only that it was in the first half of the twentieth century and he probably met the singer personally, since he loved going to the shows. In his almost four hundred years of existence, this was one of the times when he was happier, different from now. He chased after the pretty girls, made them feel like princesses with the polite and gallant way he talks, kissed their red painted lips and drank the red from their necks... And then made them forget about him so they wouldn't have nightmares about his fangs and red eyes. He also had fun with the young men who went out to party and accepted anyone who wanted to party with them with hugs and high laughter, but it was not so good to drink from them, because alcohol changes the taste of blood too much... Still it was fun though.

Now none of that is interesting. And he doesn't even know why. He also doesn't know why he feels so angry all the time. But he feels. He gets irritated when he sees Jimin being happy and excited as always while he doesn't even want to move, and then he feels guilty because it's not like he wants Jimin to stop being like that. It's just... It seems that at any moment he will be alone forever. Taehyung slowly got up and lined up his silk pajamas looking at himself in the full length mirror. Even though he feels empty and purposeless he is elegant. He headed to Jimin's room. His intention was to apologize for being rude but he forgot it at the moment he stepped inside the door. "What is it all?" He looked to the mess of clothes and shoes around the bedroom.

Jimin ran out the closet with a hoodie in one hand and a suit on the other and not using any pants. His eyes were anxious.

"I don't know what to wear! I want to look good but don't want to overdress..." He whined in front of the mirror. "None of my initial ideas seemed right when I tried..."

Taehyung made a face, trying to remember what day of week was. "I thought you didn't have work today..." Tae found an empty bed space to sit on.

"I don't..." Jimin turned to him with a bright smile that almost blinded him. "Today I'm going out with a girl! I have a date!" And there it was again. That pain of feeling Jimin slowly slipping away. He is the only one Taehyung really got attached to after so much time, the only one he wanted to stay forever... But the feeling doesn't seem reciprocal anymore. "A girl? Who is it?" Tae asked, trying to swallow the sour taste on his mouth. He was there to apologize, not to smash Jimin's smile once more.

"Y/N. She works with me, and she's very sweet. I think you would like her if you meet her." Jimin dreamly said, hands dropping the clothes he was holding. "Why do you think that?" Tae got along.

Jimin sighed, thinking of you, trying to put you in one or a few words. It was hard.

"I don't know... I identify with her." He approached Tae, taking his face on his cute hands. "She is like me." Taehyung closed his eyes, and the image of some bubbly cute girl in love with live, appreciating little things, formed in his mind, and then this cute girl replaced him in Jimin's heart. He already hates her. Hates you. He harshly sighed. "If you want to look unpretentious, modest, choose jeans. A pair that values your beautiful legs." Taehyung recommended calmly. Jimin smiled and ran back to the closet. "Button-up shirt, one that looks casual but still shows that you care." Jimin searched through the closet looking for something that matched Taehyung description, seconds later he came back with a white shirt with a mandarin collar and short sleeves, slightly oversized, and ripped jeans that hugged his tights nicely. "What else?" He asked, already feeling more confident.

"Any of your shoes should look good, I think... And it's raining, so you need a leather jacket."

At the end Jimin was perfect, with his hands full of rings, hair fixed showing his forehead, and using an expensive perfume, but in fact he is always perfect. Carefully he put all his clothes back in the closet, so as not to have to tidy up the room when he gets back, and even to control the anxiety a little since he got ready too early. When he finished Tae was no longer in the room waiting for him.

"Taetae?" Jimin knocked on Taehyung's door, even if it was open.

Tae was back on his previous position on his bed, head hanging off the edge. He didn't look back at Jimin's direction, keeping his eyes close as if he was just enjoying the song playing on the old record player. He wasn't at all. "Hm?"

"Thank you." Jimin softly said, sitting beside him.

Taehyung slowly opened one eye, lazyly humming again.

"You welcome, you looked lost." He unconsciously took Jimin's hand, interviewing their fingers. "I thought you were already leaving."

Jimin shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"I got carried away with my enthusiasm. I only need to pick up Y/N in an hour and twenty six minutes."

"Silly you."Tae mumbled.

"Yeah... Silly Jiminie." He was dreamly, looking to nowhere specific. After a moment without conversation, they made eye contact. "You went to my room to say something. What was it?"

A pout formed on Taehyung lips.

"I'm sorry."

Jimin answered with a soft grin, using his free hand to affectionately mess Tahyung's hair. After so much time together it gets easier to solve conflicts, it is possible to see how simple it is to ask for forgiveness. This makes immortality much more enjoyable. They both knew they were fine. _______________________________________________________________

You said bye to your roommate, and she wished you luck, saying for the hundred time that you are beautiful - she hadn't seen you this excited to a date before. In the cold, empty corridor of your building, still in front of your apartment door, you checked if your keys, wallet and cell phone really were in your little lap-bag - which sadly you hardly use because your heavy books, lunchboxes and other everyday things don't fit in it. You took a deep breath and put your hair behind your ear with a slightly shaking hand, feeling the stomach full of those silly butterflies, just for thinking that Jimin was already down there waiting for you. It was raining so much now that even though it was late afternoon the sky was dark as if it were already night. When you opened the front door, the cold air caught you off guard, it was cold enough to make you shiver, even if you were wearing a jacket and wool pantyhose. Jimin came up the stairs to you with a big umbrella in his hand and a satisfied smile on his face.

"I swear where we are going is pretty warm inside." He said, giving you space to go under the umbrella with him. "You look cute by the way. Beautiful actually."

Your face heated as you hooked your arms together, a grin in your lips.

"You don't look bad yourself."

If Jimin had any blood circulating in his veins he would blush too. Thank you, Tae. He thought.

"I was afraid you would give up on going out today, because of the weather..." Jimin expressed, really relieved that you didn't.

"I never miss an opportunity to have a good time. Just rain can't stop me... maybe a tornado..." You jocked.

"Thank god I saw nothing about tornadoes in the weather."

You laughed, and you were about to answer something but Jimin stopped, and you shut up when you saw him opening the door of a sporting car, and even if you don't know anything about cars to the point of not even knowing what brand it was, you sure could say it was expensive. Your broke ass was freaking out.

"Is this your car?" You couldn't keep the words from coming out of your mouth. Jimin just smirked, thinking it was cute.

"Miss?" He motioned for you to come in, and when you were comfortable in the leather seat he closed the door for you. One second later he was getting in himself.

He took his time to put on his seat belt, so he could look at you whole again. You two have never been in such a small enclosed space before, so now, even with the other smells, like rain outside and the leather of the seats, he could smell you a lot better. And it was good. Everything about you was cute, even the pulse of your blood in the artery in your beautiful neck. He could just look at you forever, but it would make you uncomfortable, probably, and that's definitely not the idea of this date. "You are using transparent rain boots." He stated, noticing it now.

"Ah... Yeah. I didn't want to wet up my feet." You slightly freaked. The only other pair of shoes you have to rain days is way old and ugly - the pair of hiking boots you use almost everyday to college and work - so you opted for yout transparent rain boots and cute socks.The result was not very fashionable, but you didn't have much else to do other than to hope it would look cute or at least talk a little about your personality. "I like to use socks that match my mood, even if people can't see."

Jimin hummed, analyzing the yellow socks in your feet. A happy color.

"I see." He smiled. "I guess you never use black socks then."

You looked at him, really serious.

"Those are for final exam days."

He laughed. You like to make him laugh.

"And what's the meaning of yellow socks?" Jimin asked, really expectant of your explanation.

"If I'm still in such a mood at the end of the night, I'll tell you." You smirked.

"Ok."

He took you to a fancy cafe, just like his car, the moment you went through the door you knew the money you brought with you wasn't enough, the whole place with the marble floor and vintage decor in a level totally different from the simple cafe in front of the train station that you usually buy your coffee before work. There weren't many people, most likely because of the rain. With a hand in the small of your back, Jimin walked you to a table, and pulled a chair for you. Your eyes were sparkling as you looked around, to the fancy illumination set, to the plants adorning the wall behind you, to the beautiful girl in a beautiful dress some tables from yours.

"We always drink coffee in a not so nice place in a not so nice situation, so I wanted to change it a little bit." Jimin seated beside you.

"Is a nice change indeed." You gave him a sweet smile.

"But if you think it's too boring, just tell me, I am not attached to plans." He jocked, but with truth behind it.

You thought for a second. "What if I say I want to go to a climbing gym?"

"First I would say that my shoes are not good for this activity, nor your dress... But, why not?" His response made you smile and your heart skipped a bit.

"I'll think of a more suitable activity for our outfits then."

Seconds later, a waitress came to your table with a notepad in hand and a cordial smile on her face. She was using the black uniform with a colorful apron on her waist, and a vintage eyeliner, you thought she was also nice looking, just like the rest of the place and people around you.

"Already know what you will want?" She asked, looking between you and Jimin.

"Ah! I haven't looked at the menu yet! Just a moment." You reached the cute booklet beside the flower pot in front of you. As you guessed before, the prices were a little more than you had planned to spend, making your stomach flip. Jimin rested his elbows on the table.

"I want an espresso, the small one, please." He cheekly smiled. "And she..." He stopped himself. He could bet what you would want, based on the kind of coffee you always buy to yourself, and your feed on instagram, but asking you directly was better, but most important: girls in this century can make their own order themselves. So he would just wait for you to talk. But you didn't say anything right away, you were nervously staring at the menu in your hands instead.

You were calculating. If you took the cheapest coffee among the expensive ones, which should certainly be a delight, you would not be a miser, and there would be extra money left for emergencies which is always good. But you could also buy a cheaper coffee and a cookie maybe. But a piece of pie would be so good too, there were some really beautiful ones in the showcase, but to also drink something would take all your money at once...

"Strawberry Mocha Latte, please." You ordered, wishing to not regret it.

Jimin, who was watching you closely during the few seconds you got to make a decision, saw how you longered a little more on the pies and cakes page, and the quick looks you sent to the showcase, humed.

"Thinking better... I'm up to something sweet too. Can you please tell me what flavor is that brown pie, with the white thing running down the sides?" He asked the waitress, chin on his hand.

"Sure. That's Cocoa Pie. It tastes like hot chocolate, the white thing is melted marshmallow." She explained.

Jimin heard your heart speeding up and then you gulped.

"I want a slice of it, please." He smiled at the waitress one last time.

"Anything else?" She asked.

"No." Both of you answered together.

Jimin had eyes only in you once again.

"Well, you were talking about college." He signaled for you to continue the previous conversation you were having on the car.

"Oh... yeah. College..." You couldn't remember the last thing you were telling him. Jimin lightly passed his index finger through your forehead, to undo a frown you didn't notice you were making.

"You were saying you didn't know exactly what you wanted to study." He took advantage of the proximity to put your hair behind your ear.

"Right. I always dreamed of things like being president, firefighter, astronaut and superhero. Something helpful." You laughed, especially because Jimin was laughing imagining you doing such things. "So I signed up for psychology when vacancies were opened for classes and I started working at the center as complementary hours... and it has been incredible."

"You don't sound like you have found what is your dream." Jimin commented.

You shrugged, playing with the sleeve of your dress. "It's because I didn't. I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I can't just sit down and think about it, so I started from somewhere. Going to college, or whatever, later would be a waste of time. Life is too short. You understand me?"

Not really. Imortallity and such. But Jimin could have some empathy. "Tell me more."

You sighed.

"Mom says I always have been different... My siblings are really chill. Dad supports me in any decision I make since ever, even the dumbest ones. I'm blessed, because for them I can be anything I want. I just don't know what it is. I feel that I can't disappoint them and waste all their money trying to discover myself. I need to at least get a degree in the process." You ended your speech with a dismissing laugh, as if it wasn't your biggest intern issue. "But I'm talking too much about myself... Your turn."

"It's not a problem, I can hear about you all day." He just flirted. "But well. My first degree was in law, I wanted to know how things work. Then I studied history, because I have a certain... intimacy with it. Basically everything I study is because I like it or am curious about it. I love taking courses on the internet too."

You were a little shocked. You didn't exactly know Jimin's age, but he looks at most two or three years older than you, and he already has two degrees? Rich kids really live in another world.

"Your family must be so proud of you." You said, stunned.

"I don't have family." Jimin simply responded.

In one second you were freaking out.

"I'm so, so sorry... I didn't mean to touch a delicate subject. Sorry." You reached both hands to his arm which was resting on the table, hoping you didn't ruin everything offending him or making him feel sad.

Jimin let a light chuckle out, putting his other hand above yours.

"It's ok. You couldn't know. Besides, it is not that delicate of a subject." He smiled, trying to make you relax. "I have been alone since I remember, since ever. No mom or dad. Just me. At some point I met this guy and he proposed to be my tutor, he adopted me, and it was the closest thing to a father figure that I ever had. And I'm sure parents aren't... that way." Jimin's eyes got dark for a second, but before you could say anything, he smiled again, brighter than before. "Now it's me and my friend Taehyung."

He said the name Taehyung with so much affection and fondness, that you almost heard him completing with "And he is my family", and in fact that was the feeling hiding in Jimin's words everytime he needs to talk about his friend to someone.

"Everytime you talk about this friend of yours I feel like meeting him. He must be so nice."

Jimin's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I think he will love you. If you like it, I can invite you for lunch or something like that." His hand tightened on yours.

Was it a cue to a kind of second date already? Your face heated up.

"I would love to."

Your orders arrived, Jimin needed to let go of your hands, and you from his arm. As expected, your coffee was divine, creamy, warm and sweet in the right measure, warming you up inside and making your tongue melt with satisfaction, that your heart even hurt less at the price you would pay for it. Jimin got the tiniest bite of the cocoa pie and hummed in delight, catching your attention. Vampires have no problem eating human food, but it's not like it's very satisfying, the acting was to make you look at him with puppy eyes. And it worked.

"Y/N, you need to taste it. Here." He filled the spoon with a piece way bigger than he ate himself and reached it out in front of your mouth.

You wanted it so bad you didn't even think how he feeding you could be embarrassing, you just ate it. No regrets.

"It really tastes like hot chocolate." You said with doe eyes.

As you talked, he made you eat the whole slice yourself without noticing it. You were just so happy, having a good time with a nice, handsome guy you crush on, and a cute delicious meal, in a conceitual, beautiful place. If life wasn't so short, you would like to do it forever.

"Hmmm, Jimin?" You said, mouth slightly full. "How Escape Room sounds to you?"

He smiled widely.

"Sounds like a good new plan."

________________________________________________________________

You're a masochist, Jimin came to that conclusion after fifteen minutes of escape room adventure. First of all you chose a suspense and horror story to play, which surprised him a little but didn't make him think much about it. It turns out that in addition to the tense story where you need to find out where the main character's body was hidden in order to get out, an actor dressed as a masked serial killer appears from time to time to scare and chase you with a fake knife. Jimin is not really scared, since his improved hearing and smells make him notice the presence of the actor before the jump scare, but you... As much as you are smart to find the clues and connect the facts, you are a scared cat. Every time you give a loud scream that gradually becomes a nervous laugh, grab his hand and run away pulling him with you, clearly enjoying yourself. He could hear your heart racing and smell the adrenaline and endorphin running through your blood. "We need to go back to the library... Do you think he is there?" You shout whispered, one hand still holding tightly on his, and in the other you were analyzing the clues you already had.

The heat in your face from running and your slightly lack of air just made you look cuter, Humans are so fragile and precious.

"He isn't, we can go back." Jimin whispered back.

"How do you know?" You tried to peek around the corner of the corridor.

"I saw him going to the other side as we ran." He lied, actually he could hear the actor's breathing behind a door on the way to the library. Probably both of you would run again, and that's ok to Jimin, so he can put himself between you anthe guy protectively and see if you'll look at him the same as the first time he did. Before the time goes out, you solved the mystery with almost any help from Jimin, who was too busy paying attention to you and your focused expression, and needing to ask for a hint just one time. You were euphoric and proud as you both walked out the room, bragging about your brain, and also pouting about how sad the story actually was and how that freak neon mask of the killer was spooky. You were so distracted talking about how much fun you got that you didn't see when Jimin paid for the game without splitting the bill. You had previously agreed that even if you didn't have the money to pay half of it, you would help. That was not fair.

You decided not to complain. "All this running made me hungry!" You said as you two walked over to his car. It wasn't raining anymore, the night sky slowly starting to show up as the clouds moved away with the wind which was still strong and chilling. Seeing you close your jacket better, Jimin put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. With a vampire's body temperature he wouldn't be able to warm you at all, but at least he could shieldering you from the wind... And you still thought the caring act was the cutest thing. You also put an arm around his waist. "Are you hungry too?" Nope. Jimin doesn't even remember how the feeling of hunger is, the bloodlust is too different to compare, besides, what for you was physical effort, for him it didn't even come close to being tiring. But he got along with it. If you had any more ideas that postponed him taking you home and saying goodbye for the night, he would accept it. "Ah... Sure." For the third time in the night he opened the door for you. "Why?" You took your place in the passenger seat and searched for something in your purse, taking it out all smiling when you found it. Ten pieces of colored paper. Coupons. "Chinese food. The discount is bigger if ordered to go." You sang. Coupons are your treasure. When Jimin thinks you can't get any cuter... ______________________________________________________________

In order not to risk spilling any type of sauce on the leather of Jimin's expensive car seat, you insisted on going to eat at your apartment, since it was not far from the Chinese restaurant. Jimin was uncertain at first, but you ensured that two of your roommates were traveling and that the other doesn't sleep early and wouldn't mind you hanging out in the living room as long as you don't make a lot of noise. The question was not whether he was going to bother your roommate or not, Jimin is a gentleman, he would never do anything to offend someone inside their own home, the question is whether he could get you to invite him in with all the words - the last thing he wanted to do was end your date bursting into ashes for entering without being properly invited and you having to vacuum him off your carpet. It would be a really sad and stupid way of dying. He nervously insisted on carrying all the bags and followed you upstairs - the elevator was broken - and down the cold corridor from your floor to your door. You opened your purse to get your heavy set of keys - your father always said that the more keys you need to carry the greater number of responsibilities you have, and for some reason that makes you internally proud of yourself - searching for the right one to open the door. Jimin cleared his throat. "Y/N... I really don't want to bother..." He said, and you looked at him with doe eyes. He put the bags on the floor to keep his hands free to hold yours. Before you could object, he continued. "I had a lot of fun with you today, and I think we got to the part I say bye the right way... You know, walking you to your door and them kissing you... Maybe?"

Like in the movies, he thought. Your heart scaped one... no... a lot of beats. He was holding both your hands, and looking right to your eyes, and talking about kissing you. Still you pouted, and he knew you would fight him on it, of course you would, but you did more than this, getting him by surprise. You reduced the space between you and pecked his lips, one of Jimin's hands went up to cup your face and try to kiss you more, but you pulled back with a frown.

"Done. You walked me to my door and kissed me." You were looking at his eyes as intensely as he was looking at yours. "But you said you were hangry and I bought all this food for us, so you are not going home yet."

You used your emergency money and coupons that you took a long time to collect just to be able to spend more time with him, and you wouldn't miss it for anything. Jimin smiled till his eyes disappeared.

"Do you want me to get in so we can spend more time together?" He asked as if he could read your mind, but it was just because it was what he wanted too.

"Yeah." You nodded, feeling kind of weird for admitting it.

"Say it..." Jimin insisted, eyes so intense you could think he was hypnotizing you. He wasn't, he would never do that to you.

"I want you to get in so we can hang out a little more..." You said, voice small.

"Invite me formally then." He openly asked.

It confused you, you thought it was funny, a chuckle escaping your lips. In your head you were sure that Jimin should read fanfic or something like that to be so good at being cliché. You pulled back and opened the door, stepping aside. "Please come in, Jimin." You smirked to him as he picked the bags from the door and obliged.

He didn't turn into ashes. You closed the door behind him and picked his jacket, kicking your boots. He followed you close to the kitchen, where he dropped the bags on the table.

"Hmmm. You can make yourself comfortable, I'll just say to my roommate that I'm home and brought food. I'll be back in a sec."

You run in your tiptoes down the hall, as Jimin already knew the apartment was empty when you arrived. He opened the cabinets and drawers, looking for plates and cutlery, before you came back he would have prepared the table for you two - or just you really - to eat. He got it done and you didn't come back, so he explored. The kitchen had little of your smell in it, a sign that you spend little time in it, which is okay, Jimin's kitchen is not his favorite part of the house either. In the living room you were more present, he found where your smell was stronger, your favorite place to take naps and marathon series, the recliner. It looked really comfortable, so he could understand. He walked silently down the hall and found your bedroom door, the door was open and you weren't there, but of course, as much as he was curious about you and your most personal place, he wasn't going to enter without permission, just looking quickly the stuffed animals at the head of your messy bed before heading back to the living room was enough for now.

In the meantime, you were leaning against the closed door of your roommate's room, which should have been at home, as you left her before you left, but she wasn't. Staring at your phone screen with your face burning you took a deep breath. She texted you earlier, yet you were having fun so you didn't see it before. It makes no difference, she just put even more ideas in your head and embarrassment in your face. Cutiehoe: i got to my babe's place

Cutiehoe: so u can get laid if you want booboo

Cutiehoe: nntr

Cutiehoe: tell me later hf

You didn't think of inviting Jimin to do anything more than eat. It wasn't your intention. But now you are thinking about it. A lot. You considered running to the bathroom to cool off a little, but on second thought, you left the boy alone for too long, he must be feeling awkward waiting for you. So you got back to him, who was actually very comfy in your recliner, reading the book you left there earlier. He did make himself comfortable - it isn't hard to a vampire at all.

"I set the table." He smiled, closing the book.

"Did you?" You looked to the kitchen table in surprise. "Ah, it wasn't necessary... I was planning on eating here, so we can watch a movie or something... And eat from the boxes so I won't need to wash the dishes later..."

You were afraid the talk would die at some point and that it would be awkward, so the movie or whatever would be an emergency escape or something, you use this tactic for dates and making new friends since middle school.

"That's good for me too." He crossed his leg, as if it wasn't his first time in your house, and you don't know if it relaxes you or makes you tense. "What do you want to watch? I love cliche super silly rom-coms, aaaand animal planet documentaries."

You didn't know if he was joking or not but it made you laugh anyways, you finding it funny and cute.

"You can choose..." You handed the remote to him. "I'll bring the food and a blanket to a comfier experience."

"Ok." He took the opportunity to lightly brush your fingers when he took the remote, just like in the movies, and watch you sigh shakily over it. In fact he spent all night doing these little film cliché things, most of them you didn't even notice, but little by little it was affecting you, working you up.

"Ah. " You remembered. "Any of my roommates are here, you don't need to worry about bothering."

Jimin made a face, a thinking pouting face, then smiled widely, which made his eyes disappear. "Good. I didn't like the idea of having to contain myself around you."

Everything he says sounds so flirty that sometimes you don't know how to answer, so you just laughed as if it didn't affect your now slightly horny mind and left the room again.

Food on the coffee table, blanket turning your bottom halfin a burrito, a documentary about cats lowly playing on the TV - Jimin's choice, really - you both just chatting. Jimin was marmeized on how entertained you were by the conversation, telling him about how you managed to rent your room in such a good apartment, with nice roommates, in first place, he couldn't say if the story was really interesting or if it was just you making it sound like it was. You were so focused on the conversation that you didn't even noticed he wasn't eating at all. "But is kind of sad, because I'll probably be moving out next month..." You sighed then stuffed your mouth with chicken.

"What do you mean?" Jimin frowned.

"My savings are about to end, and what I earn at the center doesn't pay my rent here. And even if they paid I still have the college to pay, I will have to go after student internships. So next month I'm going to change jobs and move to a cheaper apartment. I'm just not going back to the dorms, no sir." You shrugged.

"Have you found any promising places yet?"

"Not really. The best place I found is only good because it is pet friendly, but besides it, it is hideous." You made fun of it, but you were frustrated for real, your roommates would let you stay as long as you needed, but it wouldn't be fair. Jimin laughed and pulled you to a half hug, which you gladly accepted, laying your head on his shoulder.

"You"ll find something..." He made a thinking pout. "If it would make you happy, I have a cute dog, and you can be his friend if you want to, specially if you can't afford your own pet, you just need to pay a visit to my house sometime."

"I would love it! I love dogs! And cats! And parrots... And ferrets, I want a ferret sooo much! But I can't afford myself these days." You finished your box of food, and with a clap of your hands you looked at him with shiny eyes. "But enough of my complaints, your turn... "

"My turn?" He has a hand in your chin.

But since when that you didn't notice the touch at first?

"Yeah... You tell me a story now, or whatever, what comes to your mind first." You nervously chuckled.

"Uhum." He nodded and pulled you close to kiss you.

The soft peck you gave him earlier was still ghosting his beautiful lips, he was still wanting to deepen it. He spent the whole conversation observing you to know if you wanted it too, if he should, and all the openings you were giving him made him excited. You kissed him back, reaching his shoulders with both hands. He started the kiss at a tentative pace, and soon you took the lead in a slow and nice rate, making him remember that probably you have more experience than him on it, or at least it is more recent than the last time he kissed someone like this. Before he knows it, he is hovering above you on the couch, your arms embracing his neck, one of his hands on your waist, wishing he could take your dress out of the way to feel your skin.

"This was the only thing on my mind." He pulled back after who knows how long, lips close enough to brush against yours, forehead on yours. "Your turn. What is on your mind now, Y/N?"

So intense... You mentally cursed that you were trapped in the blanket, preventing you from embracing him with your legs too.

"A lot of things actually..." You giggled. "You know... When the universe gives me an opportunity I usually don't let it pass..."

"Uhum. I noticed." He smiled against your own smile.

"I want to take you to my bed and strip you. That's the thought." You admitted. "That's the thought." He repeated with a rusky voice that gave you goosebumps, getting up and pulling you with him. You tripped over the blanket, but he held you, connecting your lips together again, and again. "Lead the way please."

You took him by hand and went to your room. You barely passed through the door, Jimin was all over you again, arms circling your waist from behind, mouth finding its way to your neck, sweetly kissing your pulse of life, right over your artery. He had no intention of biting you, the thought didn't even cross his mind, your smell is just so good and addictive he couldn't help himself. The smell of life on you, plus the smell of who you are, now that he could feel it so closely, after experiencing your lips... He never felt that way, whether with a vampire or a mortal, but it wasn't going to be now that he was going to question the strange fire burning inside his chest.

Soon you two were making out in your bed, gradually pieces of clothes and your animal plushies dropping to the floor. More than once you imagined Jimin above you like that, one hand holding your jaw, the thumb of the other hand playing with the hem of your bra, legs entwined with yours, while you explore the skin on his bare back with your fingertips. You were feeling fulfilled. You couldn't hold your breath when he gave you several pecks, and then smiling against your mouth he devoured you again, pinching your hips playfully. Even in that position, he was still flirting with you, making you feel relaxed and safe, and it made your heart flutter, and those insistent butterflies in your stomach took off all at once.

When your bra was off, letting you in your panties only, you put a hand on Jimin's - beautiful - chest, making him stop and look at you.

"Yes?" He asked with heart eyes and a low smoky voice.

"Do you..." You struggled to focus as he was looking at you as to remember each detail of your face for eternity. He was indeed. "Do you by any chance have a condom with you?"

He internally slaps himself for not being prepared for every possible scenario resulting from your date. He didn't think about sex at all, didn't remember that mortals use condoms, or that condoms exist, so he didn't get the idea of buying such thing - it would be the first time ever. Damn! It is an important thing!

"I don't." He blinked twice.

"Oh." You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking. You don't have any either, actually you don't even remember the last time... "Ah! Two of my roommates are actually a couple, and I know they must have condoms somewhere... Can you wait a lil sec?"

You looked up at him as if you were insecure he would say no. He just chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.

"Of course." He got off of you, laying himself by your side.

You gave him a cutely bashful smile and hurried out the room, just in your underwear. A really beautiful sight.

Vampires do not have STDs and are totally sterile, so the need to use a condom is totally non-existent, yet, Jimin decided not to say anything about it and just use it, because he would have to expose himself too much to make the arguments make any sense, and, of course, for a matter of respect and consent. If it's important to you, then why question it? He was just hoping you would find it in your roommate's stuff, so you wouldn't change your mind on going all the way with him... Hoping that at least if you end up changing your mind you would be up for cuddles, so he could hide his face in your neck and feel you in such a way a little bit more. For him it's just as intimate, but in a different way. You came back a while later with the small colorful package and a weird look on your face - you found it in a really private drawer - to find Jimin laying on his back, facing the ceiling with eyes closed. He looked so beautiful. For a second you panicked, thinking that he could have fallen asleep, then he got up on his elbows, mischievous eyes sizing you up and down with so much interest.

"Get back here, Sweetheart." He softly talked, husky voice making your feet move before you could think about it. When you reached the bed he pulled you by the hand and in a second was above you again, hands holding you close. He chose to ask the next question in your ear. "Can we continue?"

"Yes." You took a handful of his nape hair as he attacked your neck with kisses once more.

The last underwear pieces were discarded in no time, letting just skin on skin, and the sensation of it was the only thing both of you could think clearly at the moment. You did what you've been wanting to do since you met Jimin, so much time checking him out when you believed he wasn't paying attention, and satisfactorily grabbed his ass, in response he grabbed yours too.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He whispered against the base of your throat. Then he made eye contact, just adoring you, and you could feel it in all your body.

Both of you held your breath together when he entered. You wanted to look away, or close your eyes, but it wasn't possible at the moment. Jimin's face brightened up and he let out a giggle. "Stop, don't laugh." You hid your face with a hand, for some reason this making you lowkay insecure.

"Sorry." He got your hand out the way and pecked your lips. "I just think you are precious."

It is strange. Vampires don't believe in love, even if it is Jimin, who seeks for it around him all the time, in movies and books, and always dreamed to experience such a thing that mortals live and die for, deep inside never really believing he would find it. But... Somehow... Now lying on your embrace, two bodies in sinc as if they were one, breathing and voices mixed, eyes fixed on each other's every response, mouths reaching one another in their own will. He was burning inside with a feeling he could only think as similar as what the imagined love is. Did he exist for so many centuries to meet you in this time? So he could see you trembling because of him, making him want to do it again and again? Not because he feels good, or because you smell and taste good, but because he adores you...

Your arms wrapped his torso, pinning him against you, bringing him closer, even if it wasn’t possible, in what you were looking for comfort in, as you were trying to regain your breath. A different smell of yours filling the air.

Breath. You need this to keep living. Actually you need a lot of things to not die. So ephemeral. At this moment, thinking of it, as he rolled his hips a few times more and kissed you passionately, you were everything in the world. Even if you are an ephemeral being. The idea of you not existing anymore in some decades, or next day, was terrifying, at the point of him considering...

"Yellow is for euphoric happiness, I use it when I don't know what to do with my own excitement." You pulled him from his thoughts, pushing his hair away from his face with a content smile on yours.

He looked at you without understanding.

"My socks. I promised to tell you my yellow mood if till the end of the night I were still feeling it." You explained.

"I see." He let himself fall beside you, still not letting you go, burying his face on your neck instead. You gladly cuddled him back, playing with hair, and felt his smile wide on your skin as you did. "Can I stay a while longer?"

"I wasn't expecting you to leave at all. Is already late." You said in the middle of a yawn.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, he could sense you falling asleep.

Then you talked again, getting away just enough to look at him.

"We need to get clean, also is healthy to pee after sex." You were already getting up from the bed at the end of the sentence. ________________________________________________________________

The morning came lazyly, with you soundly sleeping with your head on Jimin's arm and legs entangled with his, noses touching. Vampires don't exactly sleep, or they hibernate, or they just close their eyes and rest, and that's what Jimin is doing as your peaceful breathing and heartbeat lully him.

Through the curtains a beam of sunlight slowly invaded the room, as the sun began to rise outside bringing the day. Noticing this, Jimin covered his arms around you, to prevent burns, but out of curiosity he let the light reach you, until now he only saw you in the night, and wanted to know how you would be under the cover of the day. When the golden glow reached you, it was almost as if you were shining. Everything about you said loudly how alive you are, and that is charming. It made him feel slightly guilty for thinking, even for a second, about taking it away from you out of a selfish feeling of him.

Just having the opportunity of experiencing you this way should be enough to him. He shouldn't be greedy.

A tune sounded in the quiet room, making you stir and grumble, hiding in his chest, still asleep. It was Jimin's phone, ringing somewhere on the floor. Carefully he moved from you, avoiding the sunlight, and looked for it, one second later - literally - he was sitting on your desk chair, answering the call in a low tone so as to not disturb your sleep.

"Yes?" He answered, knowing it would be Tae scolding him for not being at home before dawn, but getting by surprise that it wasn't an angry Tae on the other side of the line, but a scared one.

"Jimin?! Are you coming home?" He cried.

Jimin stiffed, all alarms sounded loud in his mind.

"Tae, what's wrong?" He questioned louder.

"I'm outside, on our neighbour's porch. I can't go back inside... The sun will reach me, Jimin. I don't know what to do." He panicked. Jimin hasn't heard Taehyung speaking this fast in decades.

Without thinking more, he started to get dressed, phone still between his shoulder and ear.

"Keep on where's shadow no matter what, I'll be there soon. Don't cry ok?"

"Jimin?" Your groggy voice reached him, making him remember about your presence. You were rubbing your puffy morning eyes, but they wided when you noticed his distressed face. "What's wrong?"

How could he explain to you he needed to go and save Tae before the sun explodes him?

"My friend... Domestic accident." He stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan to go this early."

"Just go, your friend needs you." You smiled understandingly.

Already full dressed he came to peck your lips, a fast peck.

"I'll call you."

You smiled, planning on going back to sleep. He ran in full speed, lucky the other's buildings covered him as he reached for his car. Usually he was in favor of safe driving, but today is not a day for it, he stepped on the accelerator, making the tires sing loudly, and the world outside became some kind of a blur. If imagining that you, a mortal, someday will inevitably die hurted his chest last night, just the possibility of the rest of his existence without Taehyung was excruciating. Maybe when he got home the situation would turn out that wasn't that serious, and that was what he wanted, but maybe he would arrive to no one to save.

"Jiminie?" Tae voice sounded petrified on the line.

"Yeah? I'm here."

"Can we stay on the call till you get here?"

Taehyung was terrified. They both were. So no red light stopped Jimin this morning.

"Of course, my soulmate."

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