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homoose · 3 years

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A Timely Reminder

Summary: Prof!Spencer has been thinking about having sex in his office for a while now. Reader helps him make it happen.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18+ (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: established relationship, exhibitionism, light sub!spencer (but really just whipped!spencer), oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, insecure!reader, jealous!reader, loud af!spencer, v light hand over mouth action

Word count: 4k

a/n: Because this Tuesday has been hot garbage... have a treat. An anon asked me if reader was a switch... here’s your answer. Also because we already got to see Spencer be jealous af, we deserved to have jealous reader, too. ♥️

a/n 2: This is a companion to the latest chapter of my series, but it can mostly stand alone! All you need to know is it’s an established relationship and she’s been invited to visit him at the university.

Series Masterlist

———

Y/N watched from her seat outside his office as a student slipped out through Spencer’s half-open door— looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped in the office.

It took another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last coed made her way out the door and down the hall, Y/N stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.

Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.

Y/N stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wingback leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames.

“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”

She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”

She laughed a little. “You asked?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He ran both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”

She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”

He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her.

“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.

“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”

She rolled her eyes, but truthfully, his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head.

“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”

He leaned in to press his mouth to hers, soft and sweet. Then his hand was back on her waist and pulling her flush against him, drawing a small gasp from her mouth that had him deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue. His mouth was hot and hungry, moving over hers with a quiet desperation. He slid his free hand to the nape of her neck, fisted it in her hair and tugged.

She sucked in a breath and bit a little harshly on his bottom lip, moving a hand up to grasp at his forearm. He pulled out of the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, chest already heaving. His voice was raspy when he warned, “The door doesn’t lock.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“But I’ve kind of… been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, dragging the tip of his nose along her cheek.

She swallowed. “Mm, what— what’ve you been thinking about?”

“You, always.” His breath was hot on her ear, and now he had both hands on her hips. He used them to push her gently back into the bookshelf. “But specifically, I’ve been thinking about fucking you in here.”

“Oh,” she breathed, tangling her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” He ghosted his mouth over her neck, dragged his teeth a little to make her shiver. “Would that be okay?”

She tilted her head back to bare more of her neck to him, and he closed his mouth over her pulse point, sucking wetly. He slid his leg between hers, lifted his thigh to press against her, and she could feel her underwear sticking to the wetness already gathering there. Her breath caught in her throat as she ground down on his leg. He sucked hard on her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot and lifting his head to look at her.

“Do you wanna do that?” he asked again.

“God, I— yeah,” she nodded.

He brought his hand up to stroke this thumb along her cheek. “You’re sure?”

The knowledge that he’d been thinking about being with her in this space was more than a little overwhelming. His gaze was earnest and lustful, and she knew he was telling the truth— that she had no reason to be jealous, that he was always thinking of her. His declaration didn’t quite douse the fire of her insecurity, but at least it wasn’t burning quite so hot. And the idea that she could bring this fantasy to life, make sure his head was full of her whenever he sat at his desk or pulled a book off this shelf— that was almost too much. “Yes. Very sure.”

His mouth was on hers almost before she got the words out, his tongue sliding against hers. He brought both hands to the hem of her dress, hiking it up and slipping his hands underneath to grab at her ass, pulling her closer. He turned and walked her backwards toward his desk, bringing their entwined bodies around the corner of it, pushing her back, and half-hoisting her to sit on top.

His warm hands trailed along her inner thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress and forcing her legs apart. He stepped in between them and attached his mouth to her neck once more, sucking and licking and nipping a path along where her dress cut low in between her breasts.

“What did you think about?” she breathed, winding her fingers into his hair. “What’s your fantasy, professor?” He bit down a little harshly where his mouth had been sucking. “You want me on my knees for you?”

He lifted his head and stepped even closer, bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her ass to the edge of the desk. “No. I want to be the one on my knees.”

With that, he dropped down in front of her, eye level with her pussy. He looked up at her from his place on the floor, laying his hands flat along the tops of her thighs and pushing her dress up to her waist. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down.

She watched as he brought them up to his nose, briefly inhaling and then folding them up into a neat square. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and placed them inside, closing the drawer and then looking up at her from under his lashes. She could barely breathe.

He started at her ankles, taking one gently in his hands and kissing a warm path up to her knee, and then crossing over to the other side and back down.

“So soft,” he murmured, dragging his open mouth along her shin. He ghosted his fingers over her legs, pulling them up over his shoulders and settling in between her thighs.

He pressed featherlight kisses along her inner thighs, and she sucked in a breath as he inched closer to where she really wanted him. “Don’t tease, Spence.”

She could feel his smile against her skin, and she brought her hand up to wrap his curls around her fingers, tugging a little harder than she normally would. “I’m not asking.”

He let out a moan that vibrated across her skin, and she tightened her grip on his hair. She pulled him against her, and finally he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking gently. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a soft whine. “Mmhmm, there you go.”

He wrapped his hands over the tops of her thighs, using his grip to hold her even more firmly against his mouth as he sucked and swirled his tongue around her clit. He brought his tongue to a point and flicked it rapidly against her, and she had to bring her other hand to his hair as well, holding tight. “Shit, baby, just like that.”

She used her hands in his hair to hold him still as she rolled her hips against his face, and his quiet groans had her heart flipping in her chest. “Fuck,” she breathed out. “Never met another man who loves eating pussy this much.”

He nodded as best he could between the press of her thighs. “Use your fingers, professor,” she demanded. She smiled when he immediately complied, bringing one hand off where he was holding her against his face and trailing it between her legs. He shifted his mouth back to her clit, circling it with his tongue as he began to press his middle finger into her.

She tightened her grip on his hair and held back a moan. “I said fingers, Spencer. I know you love to drag it out, but we don’t have time.”

He whined but added his index finger, slipping them into her and curling them up immediately. She had to clamp her mouth shut to stifle the moan that threatened to echo off the walls of the office as he began to fuck into her, dragging his fingers against that spot inside her on every out-stroke.

He hummed around her clit as he thrust his fingers inside and then sucked as he dragged them out, over and over and over again, his plush lips covered in her arousal and working magic over her cunt. The sound of how wet she was had them both groaning a little too loud for their current venue, and then she was coming with his name on her tongue.

He didn’t let up after she was finished, still lapping at her entrance and pressing kisses to every inch of her pussy, whining and moaning against her like a man starved. “How are you so good at that, hm?” she gasped. “Had a lot of practice?”

She opened her eyes, slightly unfocused as he worked her to another orgasm, much less intense but still just as good. And then her gaze fell on the shelf behind him, and for the first time she noticed that the picture frames were filled with… her.

She finally tugged him off by his hair when his mouth became too much, and as he pressed gentle kisses to her thighs, she counted eight different framed pictures of the two of them. There were also pictures of him and the team, his mom, and the boys. But the vast majority of them were of her.

There was one of her sipping coffee at Soho— from their first official date there. Another of her smiling against the backdrop of the arboretum. One where she was tucked under his arm with his lips pressed to her cheek. Another still where he was hugging her tight in front of the Smithsonian.

She let out a long breath and then looked down to see him watching her, and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she knew that she really, really had nothing to worry about. “C’mere.”

Spencer scrambled up off his knees, crowding in close and pressing a sloppy kiss to her mouth. Their tongues slid together, and she tasted herself as he brought his clean hand up to her face. Her hands made their way to his ass, pulling him flush against her, and his hips jolted forward and she could feel his erection clear as day. He groaned and rolled his hips against her, and she smiled against his mouth.

“So hard, baby,” she praised, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “You love being on your knees, huh?”

He hummed in confirmation, and she trailed a line of kisses down his jaw, then his neck. When she reached the collar of his shirt, she brought her hands up to loosen his tie. “You were so good for me.” She got the tie undone and dropped it on the desk. Then she popped the first two buttons on his shirt, dragging her mouth along the column of his throat. “You wanna fuck me now?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

She dragged her hands down his chest and began to work on his belt. When that was undone and hanging loose, she popped the button on his trousers and lowered his zipper, then palmed him through his underwear.

“You’re such a pretty boy, Spence,” she breathed. “You know that’s why they come to your office hours, right? Because you’re so pretty.” She squeezed a little where he was so hard and leaking from the tip. “They’re hoping maybe you’ll fuck them over this desk.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide. “Y/N, I would never—”

“I know, baby. I know,” she assured, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You probably never even thought about it.”

“I don’t.” His voice was a little bit desperate, like he was afraid she didn’t believe him. “I only think a-about you. I— I’m always thinking about you, even when I probably shouldn’t be.”

“Mm, I’d say ‘sorry,’ but... I’m really, really not.” She brought her hands to his hips, forcing his trousers and underwear down over his ass to let his cock spring free. “Is that why you’re keeping my panties? To help you out when you’re thinking about me in here?”

“Y-yes.” He watched as she dragged her palm over her slick entrance, and then brought her wet hand to circle around his dick. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

“How do you wanna fuck me? Wanna bend me over your desk?” His fingers dug into her hips as she pumped his cock, and he shook his head. “No? You want me to blow you?” His hips jerked forward into the tight circle of her hand, but he shook his head again. “Then tell me what you want, Spence.”

His flush had traveled all the way down his chest, pretty and red and sweaty. His gaze was settled on her fingers wrapped around his cock. “Can you, um— can you ride me?”

She smiled and then gave him one last stroke and dropped herself off the edge of the desk. She hummed and stepped closer to him, grasping his chin and pulling him down into a hot, possessive kiss. “Should have known you’d want me on top,” she teased.

She leaned down to his desk drawer. “Do you have condoms in here, too?” She opened it and retrieved her panties, wiping off her hand on them and then folding them back up and replacing them in the drawer.

He whimpered at the sight and then fumbled in the pocket of his suit coat, slung over the back of the chair. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have one in there?”

“No,” he defended, ripping open the wrapper and rolling it on. “Only when I know you’re gonna be around.”

He moved to sit on the desk, shoving the student essays and extra papers haphazardly out of the way to make room for her. She stepped in between his knees and laughed a little at the way he reached for her. She kissed him quickly before climbing up onto the desk, shifting around him and cursing under her breath. “You’ve picked possibly the most awkward position for this fantasy.”

“We— we can do it another way or— or not at all if—”

“Just—” she put a finger up to his lips “—shut up and make sure I don’t fall off the desk?”

He smiled a little sheepishly and grasped her hips, and she clung to his shoulders as she got situated over top of his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her and leaned in to press their mouths together. “Thank you for making this work,” he mumbled.

She kissed him again and then rolled her hips down over his cock, pulling a whine from the back of his throat. She did it again just to tease him, and then reached between their bodies to line him up.

His grip tightened around her waist as she began to sink down on him, and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. The stretch from this angle was always more intense, and it had her gasping out his name as he bottomed out. He rubbed his hands soothingly over her lower back as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder and keeping as still as possible.

She finally let out a breath and circled her hips, and Spencer sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “You feel so good, so fucking thick.”

She got into her rhythm quickly, mindful of the fact that she was riding her boyfriend in his office in the middle of the day with an entire university just on the other side of a flimsy door. She worked her hips over his cock, bouncing on him and ignoring the burn in her thighs. She dropped down and he held her hips in place, grinding himself deep. She buried her face in his neck and tried to hold back the obscene moan that threatened to escape.

Spencer didn’t bother to do the same, letting out a groan that reverberated in her eardrums and throughout the small space. She clapped her hand over his mouth and lifted her hips slightly, pulling back to whisper, “Jesus, shh— you’re so loud, Spence. Gonna get us caught.”

His eyes slammed shut and he fucked up into her, whining underneath her hand. Her eyes widened a little as he continued moaning into her palm. She rolled her hips down hard, forcing him deep, and he cried out again.

“You want that?” she asked. “You want somebody to hear us? Want them to know you’re fucking me in here?”

He didn’t answer, just gripped her hips a little tighter and used what little leverage he had to thrust his hips roughly into her. She kept her hand over his mouth and leaned forward, partially to bring her lips closer to his ear and partially to find that perfect angle. “You want them to know I belong to you?”

He whined pathetically against her hand, and she circled her hips and kept him deep, moaning quietly into his ear. “Or is this about who you belong to?”

She felt his dick twitch where it was buried inside her, and he nodded frantically. She began to rock her hips forward and back, her breath hitching. “Is that why you have all these pictures of me?” she asked, and she saw his eyes shift to the shelf behind her.

“You don’t think about fucking them, but they think about you.” She punctuated the thought with a slow roll of her hips. “You want them to know that you’re mine?”

He brought his eyes back to hers, and there was a softness there that made her chest ache. She removed her hand to cover his mouth in a kiss, and he brought his hands up to cup her face, licking into her mouth and trying desperately to prove his loyalty.

She broke out of the kiss and rolled her hips again. He kept one hand on her face and moved the other to wrap around her dress and keep her seated. She threw her head back as he rocked his hips to have his cock bumping against that spot inside her. He repeated the motion, bringing her closer to orgasm with every shift of his hips.

She came with another gasp of his name, riding out her high and clenching around him. He pressed his mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin. She continued the movement of her hips, working her sensitive cunt over his cock. “I don’t think they’re taking the hint, professor. Did you want to give them another reminder?”

He nodded, surging up to kiss her and then planting his feet to help drive himself up into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned forward into him as his hips began to falter. He grasped her ass and gave one final rough thrust, whining high and long into her mouth as he came.

She began to press soft kisses to his nose, his cheek, his jaw. He wrapped his arms back around her waist and then hugged her close, panting into her neck as he came down. She rubbed one hand over his back and smoothed the other over his curls, gently twirling the hair at the back of his neck. He gave her one more squeeze before loosening his arms and lifting his head, his eyes dazed and practically sparkling.

“Wow,” he breathed.

She laughed. “I can tell you that this is not where I thought I’d end up today.” She lifted off of him and clutched a little at his arms as she navigated off the desk. She sucked in a breath as her feet made it to the floor, her knees and thighs already screaming. “I bet your fan club wouldn’t be this sore,” she joked.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him, bringing his free hand up to brush her hair back. “There’s nothing to bet on, because that’s never going to happen.” He cradled her face in both hands. “You know that, right?”

She covered his hands with her own, rubbing her thumbs over the soft skin. “I know.”

“Good.” He leaned forward to press their mouths together, unbelievably soft and sweet in comparison to the way it had been just a few minutes ago. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree,” she whispered. She pressed one more kiss to his lips and then stepped out of his embrace. “Now, put that thing away before we actually do get caught.”

He gaped at her, fighting a grin as he tied off the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. She retrieved his tie from where she had discarded it earlier and dragged it from her knee all the way up to her inner thigh under her dress, cleaning herself up as much as she could.

She lifted her head to see him staring at her, his mouth hanging open. “You don’t mind, do you? I figured it was an even trade since you’re keeping my underwear.” She dropped the messy tie into her bag and draped the strap over her shoulder, tilting her head innocently.

He lunged forward to crash their mouths together, and she clutched at his waist. “You are so fucking hot,” he mumbled, nipping at her bottom lip.

“Mmhm, and don’t you forget it.”

“I’m literally incapable of forgetting it.” He kissed her again. “Thank fuck.”

She laughed and used a light hand to push him off her, taking a second to take stock of his appearance. She fixed the tuck of his shirt and smoothed a few rogue curls back into place. He looked decidedly fucked out, sweaty and flushed all the way down his chest, his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons still undone… and she couldn’t bring herself to be bothered.

He held his hand out to her and smiled radiantly when she accepted it and laced their fingers together. “I was thinking we could get a late lunch?” he offered.

“Sounds perfect.”

He grabbed his suit coat and his bag, and they crossed to the door together. He opened it and allowed her to step out into the hallway, following close behind. She swung their hands a little as they made their way down the hall. “That was so fun. Thanks for letting me come.”

Spencer choked on air, looking surreptitiously around the hallway. She laughed brightly and squeezed his hand. “Funny how you’re so modest all of a sudden. Thanks for letting me come visit, professor.”

They walked out together into the quad, hand in hand, and with more than one pair of eyes on them.

———

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#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #not sfw #homoose writes

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay – good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

——————————————————

There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

——————————————————

| Part Four |

1K notes · View notes

takalzuoom · 2 years

Note

lol for the pirate au, how did mc and malleus met? was malleus in disguise in pommefiore as a visitor and mc befriended them? did mc had a shawl that blew away in the wind and malleus caught it? i'm super curious

oh my god. i love you.

sorry-👉👈

but just so you know; i read your childhood friends ask about azul and y/n and - bow-chicka-wow-wow 😳

(i’m debating if i should write smthn for it or just answer it with thoughts. 😪)

and tbh, i didn’t have much thoughts about malleus yet. as i’ve been mostly thinking about riddle,leona, and azul (mainly riddle)

but as of rn i’m fancying the idea of malleus and reader meeting in a market fair chase scene 🤔

not sure if this would be on some trading island, a neutral zone, or even a pirate friendly/only island. but whatever the case- you were running.

maybe it’s from the heartsbyual navy, or you managed to slip past jack and made a break for it when they stopped and failed to secure the prisoners (or maybe it was on purpose 😦)

note : this is probably before you and grim were close- grim being a huge asshole not even 20 minutes ago KCKAOFO)

and as jack and other crew mates were gaining on y/n, who was just plucking random accessories from different vendors and just throwing them on / trying to distract their pursuers

maybe malleus was undercover, shopping, or about to start his next raid when you ran passed him, bumping shoulders harshly. malleus, about to knock your head off before you meekly apologized, looking around frantically before sprinting off again, cloak / shawl following you as lowers his hand from his sword.

didn’t matter if it was a man woman or child; usually, he would’ve sliced through you without another breath. leering at your corpse as he moved on. but for some reason he didn’t… maybe it was the wind persuading him not to?

i mean- you weren’t kneeling- groveling at his feet for forgiveness. telling him that you’d give him your first born child or that you’ll trade your soul… unless.. you didn’t know who he was?

so wtf were you doing here? if someone like you who didn’t have any prior knowledge to pirates. why were you in a market specially for pirates?? then he heard the shouts. as riddle/jack were hot on your tail with their fellow crew mates not too far behind them.

obviously malleus’ interest was peaked. now what could navy men/ a savanaclaw pirate want to have with some john doe?

even stranger, their swords weren’t out- which means they probably weren’t going to kill you… key word probably.

SO MALLEUS TOOK A SHORT CUT TO WHERE HE SAW YOU HEADING- glaring at anyone who even crosses his path.

and right as he exited the alley, boom your hood/shawl comes loose and he can’t help the devious smirk that crosses his face as he disappears into the shadows again.

yes. y/n. crewel’s child. he’s seen your picture in the international news column a multitude of times.

a few for plain old boring news, one time for your engagement, your kidnapping, and then one calling your a criminal as it displayed your wanted picture. the inked words ‘pirate’ drawing his attention.

but no matter the situation. he couldn’t help even if he wanted to.

it was a pity, really. cause all you’d need to do is simply ask.

i still haven’t decided what his background is going to be like- wanting to keep him fae, but also have him as some kind of monster (same as lilia and sebek)

he will have draconian features, but i’m just thinking what kind they will be. 🤔🤔

#oh my god i literally love your asks #your brain is just- mwah.#so talented #takalzuoom interacts 🌊#twst pirate au 🌊#malleus x reader #malleus twst #twisted wonderland #twst

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piecksz · 4 years

Text

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!”

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket. “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You’d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren��s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot au #eren yaeger smut #attack on titan au #eren yeager au

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endcryst4l · 4 years

Text

favorite galaxies

technoblade x gn!reader! this is a sbi au where the reader is friends with techno and they go to the same school. they’re around 18 in this fic! enjoy :)

find part 2 here and part 3 here :]

prompt: You were going to Techno’s house to work on a physics project after the library had to close because of covid. You knew each other for a while now, sitting next to each other in your shared classes and even in lunch.

“He-” Phil tried to say to the stranger at the door before Tommy cut him off. “NEW FRIEND!!!” he yelled while running to you with his arms open. Techno told you about his brothers and how the youngest is a tiny devil. You laughed and accepted his hug. “Hey bud, what’s your name?” you asked him, not noticing that Techno was now watching you two.

“Tommy!! Who are you?” Tommy replied. “Well Tommy, I'm (Y/N), i’m here to work on a project with Techno.” you smiled at him when his eyes lit up at the mention of his brother. “Tommy please leave (Y/N) alone. You’re probably annoying them and we need to work on our project.” Techno said and Tommy and you pouted at the same time, making each other giggle. “You don’t annoy me Tommy but Techno is right.” you said to the blonde toddler. “Can I join?” he asked with the biggest puppy eyes and you looked over to techno, who was violently shaking his head no. “Only for a little bit.” you told him and Techno sighed, walking to the kitchen table, Tommy following happily.

“Sorry about him, he is really excited about meeting new people. I’m Phil.” Phil chuckled as he closed the door after you came in. “No worries, really. I’m (Y/N).” you said as you followed him to the kitchen, where Techno was already sitting in his chair and tommy was sitting next to an empty chair. “Saved a spot for me huh big guy? Thank you.” you smiled at him and he nodded excitedly. You sat down beside him and began unpacking your stuff.

“What were you thinking of doing?” Techno asked and you shrugged, “maybe something about the planets and galaxies? or stars?”

Techno hummed and began spewing his ideas about the topic, occasionally showing you some articles that might be of help. After you’ve decided on a more specific topic regarding the great above and divided the tasks you felt a small hand on your arm. You looked at Tommy, who was looking at the two of you with big eyes. “(Y/N) what is a galaxy?” he asked and you chuckled. “It’s a big system of millions of stars, together with gas and dust, all held together by a force.” you answered and he nodded, scooting closer so he could see your laptop screen. “Woah..” he commented and you smiled at him, showing him pictures of what some looked like.

Techno watched with a soft smile and felt his heart warming. This didn’t help his tiny little crush on (Y/N) at all. Phil perked up at the sound of Tommy's voice and noticed the way his son looked at the person in front of him and grinned.

You told the youngest more about galaxies in baby terms and he kept nodding, giving you his full attention. “That one is my favorite I think.” he said and pointed to the picture that was up. “Really? It’s my favorite too!” you gasped and he smiled widely. Suddenly he stood up and ran upstairs. You smiled and returned your focus back on the project, typing away about some of the tasks you got. After some time the blonde came back, now with paper and crayons. You almost audibly aww’ed and pulled up the picture of his favorite galaxy again, whilst editing some of your text. Tommy sat next to you again and began on his drawing, occasionally asking you about which color he should use. Techno’s eyes could barely leave the sight in front of him, yes Tommy was a social kid but he didn’t have the longest attention span. This was new to the whole family.

“Tech?” you called for him a second time, making him blush furiously. “Y-yes?” he answered and you giggled, “how many pages were we allowed again?”

“Ten, I believe, I’ll check it real quick,” he hummed, “yeah, ten.”

You nodded and thanked him.

Phil tried not to laugh, he’s never seen Techno this flustered by someone before. He smirked, coming up with a great plan. “Hey (Y/N), do you want to stay for dinner?”

Techno’s eyes widened and looked at his dad like he was crazy. You checked the time and frowned, seeing it would be too late to join dinner at home if you went now. “Only if it’s no issue, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” you replied shyly and he shook his head no, “of course not! Besides, I think both of the boys would enjoy your company a little longer.”

You laughed as Tommy loudly agreed and Techno softly nodded, his cheeks red again. “Alright then. Is there any way I can help?” you asked. “No no no, you’re our guest. No helping allowed. Besides, Techno is here so it’s fine.” Phil answered and you nodded. The older man stood up and walked to the kitchen, Techno following him.

“(N/N)! Look!” Tommy said as he tugged on your sleeve and you turned around to see what he wanted to show you. “It’s done! What do you think?” he held up his drawing. “I think it looks great! I wish I could draw like that, it looks really good.” you told him as you looked at it up close. It really were just some different colored lines with black here and there but sometimes lying is okay. “It’s for you!” he giggled and you gasped, “thank you big guy, that’s really sweet of you.”

Techno watched the two a few seconds longer before glaring at his dad. Phil cackled and shrugged, “just helping you out! You obviously like them and I saw them look at you a few times and I wouldn’t be surprised if they liked you too.” The pink haired boy almost dropped the ingredients he was holding. No way, it couldn’t be possible. He scoffed and gave the ingredients to his dad. “You’ve got to be quick though before someone else steals their heart.” Phil said while nodding to you and Tommy, now drawing galaxies together. Techno laughed and shook his head, “I can’t believe they go along this well. They’re usually not that fond of kids.” Phil’s eyes widened, not believing what his son said. If anything he thought you must’ve had younger siblings or babysat. “I know.” Techno said knowingly and began chopping the ingredients his dad had washed.

At the sound of plates rattling (Y/N) put away their school stuff. “Let me at least help set the table.” you asked Techno when he came back from the kitchen and he firmly shook his head no. You huffed and tried to collect Tommy’s crayons, making him pout. “I know, but we have to make space on the table to eat dinner.” you told him and he nodded, helping you clean up. Phil smiled, grabbing the oven mittens. He was really hoping it would work out between you and Techno, you seemed like a great addition to the family. He was sure Wilbur would like you as well, feeling a bit sad he had to work a long shift today.

“Lasagna! The pan is still hot so be careful though.” Phil told the three of you, walking over to the table. He put the pan down on the coaster and took a seat next to Techno, dividing the lasagna in equal portions. Tommy eagerly held his plate up, making you smile. Phil gave him a smaller portion and motioned for your plate, which you held up and he put a portion down. “Thank you, it looks and smells really great.” you told him. “can’t take all the credit.” he said while putting food on Techno’s plate. Techno shrugged and smiled at you, making your stomach flutter.

You all ate the lasagna in a comfortable silence, listening to Tommy’s rants. He was telling his dad all he learned about galaxies today, you nodding when he looked at you for confirmation. After he finished he smiled proudly at his brother and dad, who clapped for him. You laughed and clapped along, impressed with how much he remembered.

After a bit of small talk and questions about school, Phil cleaned up the table and cleaned the dishes. Techno and you began talking about the new comic that came out in the series you were reading together. Tommy watched the two of you discuss the topic and began playing with your fingers. You shot him a small smile and continued the conversation. Techno’s expression visibly softened, making you blush slightly.

“Would you like some tea, (Y/N)?” Phil asked from the kitchen. You took a quick glance at the time and said yes. Not long after Phil came back with a tray that held three cups of tea and some cookies. As soon as the tray touched the table Tommy grabbed a cookie and quickly put it in his mouth. You shook your head laughing and grabbed a cup and a cookie as well.

All of you talked, Phil sharing some embarrassing stories about his sons, Techno filling up the details, you shared some stories from when you were younger and even Tommy shared some stories from the daycare he goes to.

Time flew by and after a few cups of tea you had to announce your leave. Phil offered to drive you home but you declined, it was only a small ten minute walk anyway. You quickly gave Tommy a hug first. “Come back soon okay?” he whispered in your ear, to which you nodded and ruffled his hair. You thanked Phil and told them goodbye again before following Techno to the front door.

“I’m sorry if I was too interested in Tommy, I’ll work some more on the project when I get home. Thank you for inviting me over though and for the food, I had a really good time.” you smiled at Techno.

He looked up at you with a smirk, “didn’t picture you as a person that likes children, you always laugh when they trip and start cursing them when they cry.” You laughed in response, “I know, I know. I saw my baby cousins a few days ago and they changed me.” you dramatically sighed and Techno chuckled. “He’s not going to stop talking about galaxies for forever now.”

“Hey you should be thanking me, you’re going to ace the test about them.”

Techno was about to reply when he got interrupted by a loud scream of Tommy. “(Y/N)! You forgot your drawing!” the small boy yelled while running to the door. “Oh! I knew I was forgetting something, thank you Tommy.” you said when he handed you the drawing he made. He quickly ran back to the living room, definitely not because Phil told him not to bother them.

“I really should go now, so again thank you. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” you told him and he nodded, already excited to be able to talk to you again. “See you, Tech.” you said as you kissed his cheek. His face immediately heated up and he sputtered out a bye, awkwardly waving after you. He stood shocked in the door frame for a few seconds, did you really just kiss his cheek? Was Phil right?

“Techno? Are you alright” Wilbur began asking brother before he followed his gaze and saw you walking, “oooo does little Techno have a crush?” he smirked. Techno groaned and walked back into the house again, “shut up Wilbur.”

Phil greeted Wilbur and looked at them with a raised eyebrow, not failing to see Wilbur’s smug expression and Techno looking like he had just seen the stars up close. “Well?”

“They uh, they kissed my cheek when- when they said goodbye?” Techno tried to tell them, but it came out more as a question, still unsure if it really happened. They cheered and congratulated them, catching Tommy’s attention.

“Is (N/N) coming back?” he asked with a big, hopeful smile. Phil laughed, “No Tommy, (Y/N) just left.”

The blonde boy sighed sadly and Techno nodded understandingly. Wilbur watched with an amused smile as he went to put his bag on the table, which still had the drawings on it.

“Did you make these Tommy?” he asked and Tommy enthusiastically nodded, “with (Y/N)’s help! They told me about galaxies today and then we drew them.” “Oh really? What did they tell you?” Wilbur asked, earning groans from the other two. He huffed and listened to Tommy patiently.

After his little ramble Phil went to put him to bed. Wilbur looked at Techno, who was smiling at his phone. “You’re so in love it’s gross. Now when am I meeting them?” he asked him and Techno rolled his eyes, “I don’t know, soon probably. If they don’t come back soon I think Tommy will start crying. ” “Yeah just like you.” Wilbur laughed as Techno’s face went red for the millionth time today. “N-not true!” “Sure Tech. But seriously, invite them over again. A time when I’m home as well.”

“You suck.”

“Love you too.”

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #sbi x reader #sbi au #sbi

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

217 notes · View notes

mdawritings · 3 years

Text

“Arrested” [Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader]

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: E

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader

Wordcount: 8,510

Summary:

The BAU is working a case in the DC area: an unsub killing women outside of nightclubs and bars. When you get arrested and manage to end up in the same precinct as Aaron Hotchner, the team discovers that their unit chief has been sleeping with a MUCH younger woman. Even more importantly, they discover that aside from being Hotch's fuck buddy, you have had direct contact with the unsub. Told through cute and smutty flashbacks throughout your relationship with Aaron.

AO3 Link

It had been weeks since you’d seen Aaron. The first week you didn’t see him was because of a case over the weekend in Florida. You had sent him a few scandalous pictures while he was flying home…

You rest your head against the arm of your sofa lazily. You reach for the phone and look at the simple text from Aaron. “On the way home now. I want to see you soon.” Just those words send bolts of happiness, excitement, and arousal through you. You press the top of your phone to your lips to suppress your growing smile. You text him back.

“Been imagining your hands touching me instead of my own”

Aaron picks up his phone at the chime. He reads the message from you and can’t help but start to stir a little. God, the thoughts of you home alone… touching yourself thinking about him. Yeah, that definitely does something to him. It’s not like you weren’t in his thoughts the entire time. It's difficult to focus on a case when all he really wants is to be home, buried under the covers with you, taking in your light, yet intoxicating perfume. Touching your soft, perfect skin. Hearing you scream his name… He almost lets out a moan but catches himself and looks around the jet at his sleeping coworkers.

He quickly replies to your message, “Oh yeah?”

You jump up from the couch, exhaustion rapidly dissipating from your previously sore limbs at the thought of seeing Aaron tonight. Memories of his large hands touching, groping, squeezing your body flood into your mind.

You hurry to slip on the purple lingerie set you bought. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror. You take a few minutes, capturing some, quite honestly, fucking amazing photos.

“Missing the feeling of you buried inside me” You send the photos along. You grow even happier at the thought of him getting a fucking hard-on while just a few feet away from his sleeping coworkers. You revel in the effect you manage to have over such a powerful, dominant, authoritative man. It makes you especially proud to think about his normal demeanor, stoic, hard-faced, serious, and how easy it is for you to reduce him to simpering, whimpering, moaning mess under your touch. Your phone chimes a mere seconds after sending the photos.

“You are torturing me. We HAVE to see each other when I land”

You fell asleep in your bed in that lingerie waiting for him. You didn’t see his messages until the next morning, saying the sitter for Jack fell through and he probably wouldn’t be able to see you until next weekend.

At the start of the second week, he got called away to a case in California. That one took up the whole week and by the time he got home, he was way too exhausted to spend time with you.

This kind of thing went on for two weeks. A full month without Aaron had been torture. It wasn’t like you expected him to drop everything and come running to you. You understand he has a kid to take care of and an FBI unit to run. Plus, it isn’t like you two are really dating. Do you sometimes wish you were? Hell yes. Is it reasonable or feasible? Absolutely not.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy what you have going on right now. He comes over to your place, tired and frustrated from a long day at work, and he— well he fucks your brain out. You’re always working hard on your Ph.D. and Aaron’s job is just plain stressful. You both need and enjoy the amazing stress relieving benefits of casual sex. You do enjoy each other’s company without having sex sometimes. It usually happens on those weekends when you or he or both of you are way too exhausted. But really, it's the moments after sex that make you question what you truly are to one another…

Your heart rate begins to steady and you can’t help but smile up at Aaron. He looks down at you with that small Hotchner version of a smile. It’s a smile that wouldn’t seem like much to anyone else, but you know how infrequently he lets the corners of his mouth turn up in happiness. “How do you do it?”

You soon realize after letting the words out, (and from the confusion on his face), that he cannot, in fact, read your mind and understand what you mean, “How do you go from seeing all that bad out there in the world to lying in this bed with me with that adorable smile on your face?”

For a split second, you think you’ve said something wrong. The smile falls from his face and his brows tense up. You always tease him about his eyebrows, telling him the more he frowns the more wrinkles he’ll get.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to cross a line—”

“I don’t want to pull you into all this… my work. I want to protect you from it.” Your heart practically sinks into your stomach. That’s not the type of language you use with your casual sex partner. Then again, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t worry every time he leaves for a case. You worry that you’ll never see him again. You won’t even find out he’s dead because no one knows about the two of you.

“Y/N,” he pulls you out of your thoughts. His voice cuts through the silent room and you look back up into his soft eyes. They’re searching your face, scanning your behavior. You can tell he’s trying to figure out what you could possibly be thinking.

“Stop doing that,” you warn him, but your tone is light-hearted, “That whole studying my behavior thing you do.”

“Profiling,” he corrects you and runs a hand over your hair. The action is like a natural reflex for him, he’s not even consciously aware he’s pulling you closer to him.

“Right. That. Stop profiling me,” you laugh.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what’s spinning around in your head when you zone out like that.”

“I’m thinking about the fact that you listen to me rattle on and on about statistical physics but you don’t talk about your job.”

“You need to stop talking about physics after sex. It makes me feel like I’m sleeping with Reid,” he laughs and notices your confusion, “He’s a coworker of mine. You’d like him.”

You’d like him. That phrase sticks with you. Does that mean he wants you to meet his coworkers someday?

You’re not sure why you and Aaron never discuss a real relationship. Well, it’s more like Aaron never discusses a real relationship. Aaron doesn’t really discuss anything. The first time you really talked to him you thought his closed-off nature was charming, dreamy…

“Aaron Hotchner… right?” You look over the man who has just walked up to the bar next to you.

He reaches for the beers he’s just ordered, obviously for a group, but stops as you call out his name, “I’m sorry do I know you?”

“You work for the FBI… Behavioral something unit.” Your laugh sounds loud and obnoxious to you, but to him, it’s bright and cuts through the din of the chaotic bar.

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. He looks you over before turning his attention back to your face, searching it for answers.

“Oh god!” You're not really the type to strike up a conversation with a man in a bar but you’re feeling bold, not to mention empowered by the liquor, “I must seem so crazy. You gave a talk at Georgetown I attended. I’m a Ph.D. student there. It was about criminal psychology.” His face softens as he begins to realize you’re not a crazy stalker nor an obsessed fan. You stick your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, again, I guess,” He nods as he shakes your hand. You can tell he’s just trying to be polite and he glances over his shoulder at a group of people at a booth. Their eyes are all on you two. He wants to go back but something about you is drawing him in. “So you’re pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology?” He moves to sit at the bar next to you.

“Actually no.” You feel flush rushing into your face as he moves closer to you and sits down. You can’t help but look over his body. He’s much closer to your height now that he’s sitting down. He’s wearing a black quarter zip and dark jeans. His hair is neatly gelled back. He does not fit into this atmosphere. “I’m getting a Ph.D. in physics. I conduct theoretical research on the experimental implementation of quantum computing with trapped ions in— I conduct research.” Your blush deepens.

Aaron smiles widely at your ranting before jumping in, “So what were you doing in a criminal psychology lecture?”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment, “I snuck in. It sounded interesting.” You shrug slightly and reach for the drink from the bartender. “I almost didn’t show up, but then a classmate told me one of the FBI agents was very attractive.” You give a small wink before reaching for your check for your drinks from the night. “And she was right, Agent Prentiss is drop-dead gorgeous.” Your attempts to keep a poker face fail, your lips curling with delight.

Aaron laughs as he takes the check from your hands. “You don’t have to—” You protest slightly but Aaron holds up his hand to silence you.

“My treat. As a thank you, for breaking the rules to see my lecture.” He shares in your smile as he hands the bartender his card, paying for your drinks. Your ex just broke up with you a few weeks prior so you came out to cheer yourself up. Seeing Aaron Hotchner up close and personal is… definitely a pick me up.

“Do you have a business card or something?”

“Uh… yes.” Aaron is hesitant to hand it over but reaches into his wallet for one. You grab a pen and take the business card from Aaron. You scribble down your number on the back and hand it to him.

“This is my number.” You hold it out before reaching for your purse. He looks down at the number and then back up at you. For a grown, adult man, he doesn’t seem to understand. You can see confusion written all over his face, it’s quite adorable honestly. His face though it seemingly remains emotionless, in just the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him, you see hints of smiles hidden under a professional, powerful exterior.

“Call me sometime. You know, so I can pay you back for that drink.” You stand up from the bar, legs weak from the heavy drinking you’ve done, “Or if you just want some company.” He nods slightly in response and you turn to leave. You can’t help but turn for a second to watch as Aaron walks back to his table of what appear to be friends. One of the women looks back at you and smiles the most infectious, sweetest smile at you. You return it and move to leave the bar.

It wasn’t until late that night that you got a call. The drinking your sorrows away didn’t stop once you left that bar. You were curled up on your couch, a glass of wine clutched in your hands.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter.

“We didn’t really get to talk much at the bar, but I’m pretty sure you made some promises about paying me back for that drink,” A stern man’s voice cuts through the phone.

“Aaron?” you ask momentarily confused, “It—It’s late, are you drunk?”

Your laugh rings through the phone and it’s that laugh that has Aaron so intensely drawn to you. He can’t help himself. He needs to be near you, “Just go to the door.”

You stand up, “My door? How did you get my—oh right. FBI agent,” you muse and open your door. And there he is, standing at the door with the phone pressed to his ear. He pulls it away and hangs up. “This is incredibly creepy, I hope you know that.” You lean against the doorframe, pulling your large sweater around yourself tighter. His eyes run over you. You grin slightly, catching his wandering gaze, and at that, he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So about that drink you owe me.” Aaron takes a few hesitant steps into your apartment. He closes the door behind him, “How about you pay me back wit—” he starts to talk but you don’t let him finish his sentence. You grip his shirt and pull him close, your lips melting against his.

It’s messy and passionate and needy. You struggle to stumble along, guiding him towards your bedroom and his hands are touching every inch of you. He hurriedly pulls your sweater off and tosses it off to the side before unzipping your dress. You let it fall to the floor and kick it off as you match his frantic pace, pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans. He lays you down gently and reaches around to unclasp your bra.

“Holy fuck,” Aaron groans as he takes a second to take in your naked body.

Then he’s leaving a trail of soft kisses down the expanse of your chest and breasts. He travels down further. His lips brush against your inner thighs, his stubble tickling your skin. He smirks up at you wickedly as he grips your thong in his teeth, pulling it down your legs. You already know your soaking wet pussy will give away just how bad you want him right now.

He doesn’t hesitate, he goes to work on you. Licking and stroking and rubbing your clit. Your back arches and you grip the sheets and his hair. You massage your breasts, panting heavily as two of his fingers press into you, his tongue flicking your overly sensitive bud of nerves. “Oh god, Aaron yes!”

His name rolls off your tongue and you continue to chant it like a fucking mantra as his somehow rough yet gentle touch drives you wild. You feel the knots building in your stomach. Your legs tremble with pleasure as your eyes shut harshly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You’re panting intensely at this point and the whole room practically slips away as your orgasm hits and your body feels out of control. Every nerve ending on fire. And Aaron is merciless, he continues to lick and tease as you ride out your high.

He can’t help but grin proudly at the number he’s done on you. As he comes up to plant a few more kisses on your lips, you feel his rock hard erection pressing against your thigh. You kiss him hungrily while fumbling to stroke him through his boxers.

The groan the emerges from his lips is… holy fucking shit it’s sexy. You flip the two of you over so you’re on top of him, your chest pressed against his. You dip your hand into his boxers, pumping the entirety of his length. You feel him getting harder and his cock twitches in conjunction with a loud, throaty groan. “Y/N." His eyes flutter open and he grabs your arm to still your motions. “I need you, now.”

Within seconds he’s peeling his boxers off, you roll the condom down onto him and you slam your hips down on his. You can’t contain the loud gasps and moans as you feel your walls stretch around him. Fuck it’s been too long since you’ve had sex. You’re still for a second and Aaron bucks his hips, needing friction, needing to thrust and feel your tightness around him.

“Oh god." Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head as Aaron takes an agonizing pace, lifting your hips all the way up just to slam them all the way back down again.

He has a vice grip on your hips and you can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips. You grind your hips against his as you ride him faster. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Hotch lets out another one of those agonizingly sexy groans.

“I’m close,” you whine out. Aaron reaches to rub your clit with his thumb as he starts thrusting his hips up to meet yours chaotically. That combined with his large cock hitting your sweet spot sends you tumbling over the edge once again. It’s not long after that you feel his cock throbbing deep inside you, his hips messily thrusting and his face contorted up in pleasure. His panting becomes rapid and it's not long before he’s coming undone inside you. You flip off of him to collapse at his side on the bed.

“So when are we doing this again?” you pant heavily and hear a beautiful sound beside you. The sound of Aaron laughing.

Sometimes you worry if he’s embarrassed by you. I mean, you’re a few years shy of 20 years younger than him. You’re still in school. He was starting college by the time you were out of diapers. He runs a whole goddamn unit of the FBI and you’re still a student. You both are in entirely separate places in life, how do you reconcile that? It’s not as if he keeps you secret. Jessica knows you and you met his son Jack one time. Besides, you’re not really showing him off either. Not that you have many people to show him off to.

Like said, it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him which has just left you to sit around and overthink just about everything.

Aaron is working a case in DC. You saw the news reports the other day. Women were turning up dead in alleyways behind popular nightclubs and bars in the downtown area. Despite this horrifying news, you were happy when he told you the case was at home. It meant less travel. Less travel means Aaron is less tired. Which means more sex for you. And god, did you need sex.

It’s your friend’s 27th birthday and in an attempt to keep her from crying about getting a year older, you and a group of friends promised to go out drinking with her. You reach for your phone to check for any messages from Aaron. You would drop all your plans if he told you he was coming over tonight. There is one new message but it’s not exactly the text you were hoping for.

From: Aaron:

Please be safe for the next few days. Don’t go anywhere alone. Call me if there’s any trouble or if you need anything at all.”

You furrow your brows. It’s not news that Aaron cares about you and wants to look out for you but usually while on a case it’s radio silence from him. Yes, if you were really in danger he would want you to call immediately, but usually, he tells you he needs to focus on the job and nothing else. You dismiss the text, chalking it up to the presence of a serial killer in the city you both live in. Hell, you were pretty freaked out too. You had seen the girls on the news, 20-30, with your hair color and around your height.

You let out a long sigh, knowing you are most definitely not getting laid tonight. It’s time to get stupid drunk with your friends and enjoy your night anyway.

It does not take long for you and all your friends to reach the perfect level of sloppy drunk. Seeing as you all haven’t been out in months, what with some of you pursuing real jobs, grad school, med school, and whatnot, there hasn’t been a lot of time for screwing around as you did in college.

“So come on! You cannot still be single,” your close friend Sarah screams in your face over the music.

“It’s complicated,” you feel your words starting to string together. They’re not quite slurred but it’s getting there, “He just comes over, fucks my brains out, we spend some time together, and then it’s over.”

Your comments provoke a loud response of laughs and cheers from your friends, “So we don’t even get a name? Or a job? Or where you met him?”

“He guest lectured a course on abnormal and criminal psychology a few months ago,” You start to explain but Sarah is cutting you off before the words have left your mouth.

“Months? This has been going on for months?” You roll your eyes. The bartender places another full tray of shots in front of you guys. She nods towards a man at the edge of the bar. As you look up, he gives you a small wave and smiles. Creepy.

“No, I ran into him a few weeks after and I just gave him my number.” You down the shot, souring your face up before reaching for a lime wedge to chase it, “And then things just happened.”

“Name? Job? Age?” Another friend rattles off at you.

“Isn’t this Sarah’s birthday? Shouldn’t we be talking about her?” You try and steer the conversation away from yourself. You turn back to the bar and see that same man who sent you the shots staring at you. Even when you turn away you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Well I want to know, so this is a birthday present,” she continues to pry and it drives you crazy. You're just not ready to share what you and Aaron have with the world.

“His name is Aaron and he works in the FBI and he’s 45,” You mumble that last part into your glass as you take a long sip.

“He’s how old?” Your friend’s jaw drops and another friend grins widely. Your face is burning hot at embarrassment and all the attention.

“Can we all just shut up and drink?” you command forcefully before downing your own.

Hotch looks down at his phone, waiting for any sign that Y/N has seen his text. He doesn’t panic though. She has a life, she’s busy. She probably has plans for the evening. Maybe she’s out… with someone. Aaron shakes his head slightly before forcing his attention to the case. But his mind wanders. Would she go out with someone? It’s not like anything between them is defined. I mean, he would never go out with anyone else. He just wants her. If she wants to go out on a date she can do whatever she wants. Yet, Hotch can’t help but feel the jealousy coursing through his body. The idea of someone else touching her… yeah, that makes him angry.

His more rational thinking takes over. Maybe she’s busy with school work. He knows how hard she’s been working on her research. He fails to hide a smile as he thinks about the way her face lights up when talking about her research. The passion she has for her work is extremely adorable...

You hear three short raps at the door, “It’s open!” you call out as you rush to get all your thoughts down on your computer. You hear the door open and the footsteps approaching.

“You leave your door unlocked? Do you realize how incredibly unsafe and unwise that is?” You can hear that Aaron probably has his stern face on, judging by the disapproval in his voice.

“I knew you were coming,” You shrug and gnaw at your bottom lip furiously as you work, “I just need one moment. I was thinking that in a controlled quantum environment...” As you start to ramble Aaron’s hands snake around your waist. He pushes your hair to the side, placing feather-light kisses along your neck.

“Mm,” He mumbles against you.

“Wait, wait,” you moan, “If you keep doing that I’m going to lose my train of thought and I will never forgive you unless you can formulate how to create thermal distrib—” He nips at your skin and gives your hips a squeeze. Your groans grow louder.

“The physics can wait,” Aaron growls against your skin, turning you around so he can passionately kiss you, “I need you now.”

The panic doesn’t ease because Aaron reaches to call you once again. You don’t pick up because well… you’re a little preoccupied drowning your liver. He thinks, if you had just given a small ok text, he would know you’re safe. But he’s panicking. He continues to panic for the next hour until something unexpected soothes that anxiety. The sound of your screaming drunken voice radiating throughout the entirety of the precinct the team is working in. But as soon as the wave of anxiety dissipates, he feels his stomach drop.

“I’m a victim here!” you screech and cement your legs in place so that the officers holding your arms are practically dragging you.

“Ma’am please!” You kick your legs violently as the officers try to seat you in a chair. They undo your handcuffs and redo them so that your hand is cuffed to the desk. “We’re understaffed and backed up so you sit here and shut up while we get you booked.”

“He was feeling me up! Under the skirt over the panties. He grabbed my ass, I’m sure I have a mark you wanna see it? He assaulted me!” you continue to screech and reach for the hem of your dress, ready to flash every cop in the precinct your ass.

“So you smashed a bottle over his head? Real ladylike,” one of the officers steps forward and holds your hand tight to keep you from lifting the dress.

“Don’t I get a phone call.” Now your words are slurred together. That last round of shots before you got arrested is hitting you hard.

“Once we book you.”

“I know a federal agent. From the FBI,” you spell out the letters obnoxiously, “Do you even know what that is?”

“Yes, I’m sure the federal government will come running to post your bail. Stay here. Don’t move,” the officer commands and you hold up your handcuffed wrist to demonstrate that you’re quite frankly incapable of going anywhere.

“Oh my god,” Prentiss lets out a small laugh from the conference room. “I can hear her through the closed doors.”

“Well, most of this room is glass and sound travels through the glass just about the same as it does air. A better insulating material would be a foam or fiberglass or even a mineral wood composite,” Reid clarifies before giving that signature tight-lipped smile.

“She is… really something,” Morgan laughs and nudges Hotch, “Hotch look.”

Hotch turns and sees what he’s dreading. He sees you, drunk out of your mind. Your skimpy dress is somehow simultaneously riding low on top and riding up on the bottom. You have a small cut lip and a little bit of blood on your dress. His brows furrow deeply. “Oh god,” he mutters under his breath.

“These cops are supposed to stay in the bars and clubs for protection. Why are they wasting time on drunk girls?” Rossi finally chimes in.

The cops finally get you settled into a chair and you kick your feet like a child. “Call the FBI! I know them.”

“Oh does she now. You guys know her?” JJ rolls her eyes and laughs, “I am so glad I never got arrested when I was in college. My parents would’ve killed me.”

“College? Girls do not look like that in college,” Morgan smirks.

“We have to focus on the case,” Hotch's jaw tightens as he sees Morgan look over your body. It’s not something new for Morgan but when he’s making those eyes at you specifically, Hotch feels that surge of jealousy again.

“Call them! Call Agent Aaron Hotchner.” You lean back and try to cross your arms, but your right hand is yanked back by the cuffs.

The team all turns to Hotch with wide eyes. “You know her?” Rossi smirks.

“Where exactly do you know her from?” Emily fights the grin growing on her lips as she looks over her stone-faced boss.

“I’m sorry what?” The cop glances down at you.

“Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Unit Analysis Science thing or something like that he’s in the FBI he’s unit chief. I know him.” You roll your eyes at the cop who is speechless, “Oh god. Are you that thick? A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H…” you trail off the alcohol inhibiting your spelling capabilities, “N-E-R. Aaron Hotchner! Call him and he’ll tell you to let me go.”.

The cop glances at some of his coworkers before looking at the conference room. You follow his gaze and see Aaron with a large group of other well-dressed agents. “Oh fuck,” you mutter. Aaron opens the glass doors and steps out of them walking towards you.

“So how does he know this girl?” Prentiss tries her best to hide her spying on you and Aaron.

“I got money on babysitter,” Morgan nods.

“No way, she’d be with Jack right now. I’d say she met him at work." JJ leans against the desk, watching Hotch as he looks down at you, crossing his arms.

“Then we’d all have seen her before. Plus she wouldn’t be telling them she knows the FBI. She would technically be part of the FBI. Why not use that?” Rossi rubs a hand over his goatee.

“He’s sleeping with her,” Reid states simply before turning back to his geographical profile on the board.

“What?” Multiple members of the team turn in shock, not only at the statement but at the fact that Reid is the one making it.

“No way. She’s… at most 27 years old.” Morgan shakes his head, “She is not Hotch’s type.”

“Are you jealous that Hotch has more game than you?” Reid teases without turning away from his work.

“When was your last date, pretty boy? Huh?” Morgan hits him on the back of the head playfully.

“Officer.” Aaron steps in between you and the officer. Good thing, because two more minutes with that guy and you would be charged with a lot more than resisting arrest and public disturbance.

“Aaron!” you squeak, “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well, she’s definitely not a coworker. She called him Aaron.” Rossi nods at the rest of the team still in the conference room. For a team of profilers, their attempts to hide the spying are weak at best.

“I’ll take care of her.” He doesn’t bother looking at you, but he gives the officer his best unit-chief glare.

“Sir we have a process to go through here. We’re still processing her arrest,” the officer attempts to argue with Hotch but you can see the discomfort clearly in the officer. He struggles to meet Hotch’s eyes.

“Please officer, we have much more to deal with here. I want to find this guy before another body drops. We need you out there patrolling the bars for the guys, not the drunk girls the creeps hit on.” Aaron takes on a stern voice.

“Yes agent.” The cop is visibly annoyed but isn’t willing to get into a fight with a federal agent all over your stupid drunk ass.

“Are you injured? You’re bleeding.” He grabs your chin in his calloused fingers, turning your face from side to side to assess the small cuts. You almost moan into his touch but remember the current location.

“No, no it’s someone else’s.” You turn out of his grip, trying to push his hands off.

“Someone else’s? What did you do?” Fuck. Aaron is furious with you. His arms are crossed against his chest and you can see the veins in his neck standing out. The tone he takes with you is harsh and you’re not used to him speaking with you like that… at least not used to it outside the bedroom.

“It’s not my fault okay!”

Aaron holds the bridge of his nose frustratedly, “Y/N. I have a serial killer to profile, catch, and stop from murdering innocent women. Can I just get the truth?”

“This creepy guy kept sending me and my friends drinks all night so when I went to the bar to get us another round he came over. Things got messy.” You shrug your shoulders. “Can you take off these cuffs now?” You hold out your wrists, pouting out your bottom lip. You can physically see him soften at that.

As Aaron reaches for the key and undoes the cuffs, he shakes his head at the stench of alcohol seeping out of you, “You’re gonna have to do better than things got messy.”

“I just…” You pause, knowing the details of the story are going to make him upset but he wants the truth, “I knew he was a little off. Weird and creepy and pushy, you know?” You rub your irritated wrists, “So he starts talking to me, offering me some drink. I know better than to accept a drink from a stranger so I turned him down. That's when he grabbed my arm and well… tried to cop a feel.”

“Cop a feel?” Aaron’s jaw has tightened and his hands are clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are pale.

“He slid his hands under my dress.” Your hand ghosts over the sore spot on your bottom where the man dug his fingers into your flesh, “He grabbed my legs and then my ass and then… and then he tried to get his hands in my underwear.” You show Aaron the red marks on your inner thigh. You’re not sure what you expect from him, but his face remains hardened. The only emotion readable on him is anger.

“The blood is from self-defense,” Aaron begins to understand.

You nod, confirming his statement, “I grabbed the first thing I could and smashed him on the head. I think I sliced his eyebrow. By the time the cops came, he was gone and I was in cuffs.”

Aaron looks back at his team in the conference room. In a poor attempt to hide their spying, they all rapidly turn their eyes to their work. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes looking over the red bruising on your cheek. He fights every urge to reach out and touch you, stroke your face softly and kiss your lips, “Did he hurt you? We should get a medic to check you out or–”

He doesn’t have a second to finish that thought. “Hotch, another body just dropped,” Morgan and Prentiss come rushing out of the conference room, “We’re going to the crime scene now.”

Aaron nods at his team members, “Call me if anything stands out.” The team nods and Aaron reaches for your arm, walking you towards the rest of the team, “I don’t want you alone right now. You’re going to sit here and keep quiet, understand?”

You bite your lip and look around at the team, still pretending as if they’re not listening in, “Jeez way to embarrass me, Aaron,” you mumble under your breath as you drop down into a chair with a loud sigh like a child.

JJ can’t help but come over to talk to you, “I’m Jennifer." You give her your name, "It's so nice to meet you Y/N, how do you and Hotch know each other?”

“Hotch?” you let out before quickly realizing the nickname for Aaron. You shake her hand, “Oh Agent Hotchner and I are just fuc–“

“Friends,” Aaron cuts in, “Y/N and I are friends. We have a case to get back to,” Aaron frantically changes the topic of conversation but your little comment doesn’t go unnoticed by the team members. Even Reid is smiling slightly at your comment.

You sit back in your chair and take in the sight of Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. The confident and commanding energy he exudes is immensely attractive. It’s not long before the agents that left for the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss return with news for Aaron.

“Sir we found something weird at the crime scene,” Morgan steps back into the room.

“Weird?” Hotch cocks his head slightly to the side.

“There were droplets of blood over the victim’s dress but it wasn’t her own,” Morgan shakes his head.

“But you called and said she had no defensive wounds, he drugged her like the others. How could he have been injured?” Hotch turns back to the other case files.

“We’re not sure,” Emily shakes her head, “It’s possible it’s unrelated but maybe he might have been hospitalized for something recently?”

“What about any witnesses?” Hotch nods, “Any people at Churchkey bar see anything unusual? A man that was a little too forceful with women?”

You snort slightly at that, “I wouldn’t say that’s unusual for a bar.”

Hotch shoots you a hard glare that shuts you up for good, while Prentiss lets a smile shine through.

“The bar was mostly cleared out. Apparently the bar was packed earlier tonight but it cleared out after a bar fight broke out.” Morgan informs the team.

You bite your lip harshly. Aaron told you no talking but… this is more important, right? “Wait, Churchkey bar?” You finally speak up and all the agents turn their attention to you.

“What about it?”

“That’s the bar I was at tonight.” You trail off at the end of your sentence.

“You remember someone or something off?” Rossi looks over your body language.

“I think I talked to the unsub. I think... I’m the one who injured him." You unconsciously wrap your arms tightly around your body.

“You think you could walk me through the night? Tell me about him, it could really help us,” Morgan moves to sit on the edge of the desk to face you. "We could do a cognitive interview." He nods at Hotch.

"A cognitive?" You look between the two men.

"It's a memory recall exercise. We would walk you through the night and you tell us as much as you can," Morgan explains gently.

"And it could help you find him?" You ask, unsure how much you remember about him.

"You might not realize the type of details that help us form the profile." Morgan places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Aaron clears his throat. “She’s not sober enough for a cognitive." You can tell that the fact that his personal life is bleeding into his work is driving him crazy.

“If I can help catch this creep, I want to help. I’m fine.” You touch your finger to your nose a few times in an attempt to demonstrate your sobriety.

“Then you should drink some coffee before we start,” Aaron dismissively addresses you before turning to leave, “And I’m going to want the whole truth.” He stalks off towards the interrogation room.

Rossi runs to catch up with Aaron, pulling him off to the side. “Aaron, you cannot conduct this cognitive.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron snaps, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Take a step back, pretend she’s not someone you clearly care about,” Aaron rolls his eyes at Rossi’s comment but plays along as he continues.

“She’s a young girl… just how young is she?” Rossi raises a brow at Aaron, losing his train of thought.

“Dave.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Rossi holds his hands up in defense, “Fine, okay. She’s a young girl, she’s a little drunk, and she’s been sexually harassed in a bar by our unsub. Who do you send in to talk to her?”

“The least intimidating figures to her,” Aaron nods.

“So definitely not the angry boyfriend who wants to kill anyone who touches her,” Rossi clarifies.

“I’ll send in JJ and Prentiss,” Hotch sighs and turns before pausing, “And I’m not her boyfriend.”

Rossi simply smiles and pats Aaron’s back, “Ok boss.”

You sit up in your chair tiredly as Emily and JJ walk into the interrogation room.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Agent Prentiss and you’ve already met Agent Jareau,” Emily sits across from you.

“He can hear us, right?” You bite your lip and look towards the glass.

“Who can hear us?” JJ takes a seat and places a file in front of you.

“Aaron.” You search the glass, knowing that you won’t be able to see him but that he definitely can see you.

“Oh uh-” Emily pauses, unsure what to say in response.

“Do you want more privacy? I can ask the agents to leave.” JJ starts to stand.

“Hearing this would help them figure who the killer is?” You’re gnawing your lip hard enough to draw blood, a nervous habit Aaron never hesitates to point out to you.

“Yes,” JJ sits back down.

“Then it’s fine.” You look over one last time, “Just make sure Aar— Agent Hotchner,” you correct yourself, “Make sure Agent Hotchner doesn’t lose his shit.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirks and lets out a small breath, “We’re going to walk you through the night. If it gets to be too much you let us know and we’ll take a break, okay?”

Well, now you’re really nervous. You let out a small breath, “Okay.” You close your eyes as Agent Prentiss starts.

“You’re in the bar. It’s crowded…”

“Y/N I think he really likes you,” your friend Sarah laughs. “Come on go talk to him.”

“No, I really shouldn’t.” You feel dizzy and light on your feet from the alcohol the man has been plying you and your friends with.

“Why?” Another friend chimes in, “Big strong Agent Hotchner going to punish you for talking to another guy?” Your friends taunt you playfully.

You smile widely at them, “Yes, yes he will.”

“You naughty, naughty girl!” Sarah laughs. You feel eyes on you and look back to the man at the bar. He’s hunched over in his stool. He looks nervous, but he smiles sheepishly at you and waves. It’s not long before he’s calling the bartender over again and pointing at you animatedly.

“Next round is on me,” you say softly to your friends, keeping your eyes on the man’s face, memorizing every detail you can. His face is young but worn and tired. The wrinkles on his forehead tell you he frowns a lot. They’re lines that appear on Aaron’s face too. You think about how you tease Aaron about smiling more. God, you miss Aaron right now. You wish he was here to make you feel safe. As you walk up to the bar, your presence causes the man to stand up and move closer.

“I was going to order you and your friends more drinks. I ordered you a vodka soda. It’s what you’ve been drinking all night, right?” He stutters slightly as he talks to you. He slides a glass over to you, but you know better. Strange man... drink that you didn’t see the bartender actually make... no way.

“I was actually going to order a beer,” you try to reject the glass, “You take the vodka soda though. You’ll see why they’ve been my go-to all night. He’s been making them very strong.” You look at the bartender, ordering a beer. You pray that the young bartender senses your discomfort.

“Come on it’s a harmless drink.” The strange man moves into you, pushing the glass closer. “You have the drink, we’ll get to know each other better… you’ll like it. I can make you like it.”

Thinking about his words sends chills down your spine. You have to take a moment to let out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to continue listening to this?” Rossi eyes Hotch. Hotch’s face is contorted so harshly into a mixture of anger, disgust, and sadness. His neck muscles tense, his arms are tightly crossed against his body. He doesn’t even acknowledge Rossi.

“Can you keep going?” JJ eyes your face. You nod.

“No thank you, and no more drinks for my friends and I. We can get our own drinks.” You turn to grab your beer but soon the man stops you. He grabs your wrist tightly, placing his other hand behind your back. He pulls you flush against him. His rough, calloused fingertips grab and scratch up your thighs, under the dress. He grabs your ass so hard you want to scream out. He continues to trail his fingers up, hooking around your panties and—

A sickening shattering noise and cracking erupt as you swing the beer bottle at his head. The man screams. “You bitch!” He slaps your face. You stumble back, falling on the floor, cutting your hands on the broken glass from the bottle. Your skin is sticky with alcohol and you glance down at the blood on your dress. The bar grows louder. The commotion intensifies. You feel a friend’s hands wrap around your arms pulling you up off the ground.

“Wait he—!” You look around for the man but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Not long after that I was being shoved into a cop car and escorted here.” You finally open your eyes and look at the two agents.

“I can make you like it?” Emily asks you to clarify. She speaks slowly clearly enunciating her words but you can hear the disgusted tone in her voice.

“That’s exactly what he said.” You wrap your arms around yourself, “Does that all help?”

“Yes, yes it does,” JJ reaches out to touch your hand gently. Your eyes flick back to the one-way glass. You can’t see Aaron but you can tell he’s probably fuming. He probably has that signature scowl on his face.

“Am I—” You clear your throat and try to adjust your dress for more modesty, “Can I go?” Prentiss gives you a sad, pity-filled smile and nods. You stand up quickly and exit the room in a rush, colliding with Aaron’s strong chest as you do. You look up into his eyes and you see something in his face you’ve never seen in all the times you've been with him: sadness. You bury your face into his chest and his arms wrap tightly around you. “I was scared,” You choke out as his large, warm hands rub circles into your back, “I needed you.” You ball up his shirt in your fists. You’re not one to cry easily, but your body shakes as you breathe heavily.

“I know,” his voice cracks as he rests his chin on top of your head. He runs one hand over your hair softly, shushing you gently, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You pull away from his chest and frantically pull his lips down to yours. A strong hand goes to your back, holding you close to him. You hear the interrogation room door open behind you, the two agents stepping out, but neither you nor Aaron break the kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Aaron breathes against your lips, pulling you back into a tight hug. “You’re safe here with me now.”

———

You lift the heavy metal knocker and let it slam down twice, waiting for the door to open. When it does, Rossi envelops you in his arms, a wide smile spreading across his lips. He grabs your face tightly, kissing each cheek joyfully. “Bellissimo! I’m so glad you could make it.” Rossi places a gentle hand on your back and leads you inside.

You walk into the crowded kitchen and the members of the BAU all turn and smile back at you. Aaron moves towards you and quickly gives you a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m so happy you’re here."

“I’m so glad you’re finally home.” You pull away from Aaron to make the rounds hugging the people who are like family to you at this point.

Morgan wraps a friendly arm around your shoulder and can’t help but tease Aaron, “Hotch, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your girl?” He turns to smile at you while Aaron shakes his head.

“I had to stop by the research lab so I just had my classmate Tyler drop me off after we finished up." You shrug.

“Tyler, huh?” Rossi grins, hoping to rile up Aaron a little.

“Is he cute?” JJ chimes in with a laugh.

Aaron quickly clears his throat, hoping to change topics. He raises his brows at you, “So do you want to share the news or should I do it for you?”

“Oh my god, you’re totally preggers!” Garcia squeals and runs to hug you again. You glance at Aaron and can only laugh.

“No, no.” You smile as she pulls away and you look at the shocked faces of everyone in the kitchen, even Aaron looks a little rattled. You playfully nudge his arm, “See what you did? Always causing trouble.”

“Me? If I recall correctly you’re the one who got arrested for being drunk off your ass and trying to fight a serial killer.” His comment elicits a series of small laughs from everyone.

"Yeah and it helped you catch him, so really you all should thank me for being drunk." You playfully argue with Aaron. "Anyway, the actual news. No, I'm not pregnant." You point at Penelope as she opens her mouth to say something else.

“You’re looking at the proud new owner of a Ph.D. in physics!” You do a small cheesy spin as the rest of the team congratulates you, “Handed in my final thesis paper today.” Aaron smiles proudly as you move back to his side.

“Yeah that’s great and all but you’re still two Ph.D.s behind me.” Spencer can’t help but tease you. In the past year, he’s become one of your closest friends, especially since Aaron can’t even seem to begin to understand your thesis research.

“All right cool it kid.” You joke with him.

“Kid? I’m older than you.” Spencer laughs. Aaron comes closer to wrap his arm around your waist. The gesture is comforting and just this touch sends waves of pleasure through your body.

“Reid might have two more Ph.D.s than you but he’s got nothing on your good looks.” Prentiss winks at you.

“She’s got that right,” Aaron smirks as he kisses your cheek gently.

“Ok, ok, enough small talk.” You feel your face flush, “I came here to learn some cooking from chef Rossi, not talk about how hot I am.” You see Aaron roll his eyes with a smile and you pull him close as Rossi starts the demonstration.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Aaron has his arms wrapped around you from behind. He speaks softly so only you can hear.

“I know,” You smile, happiness flooding through your body, “I love you too.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #smut #ao3 #read on ao3

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novaiya · 3 years

Text

The Girl from the North Country - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: While snooping through Arthur's journal, Karen finds a portrait of a woman who draws her attention. After being caught and reprimanded for her actions, she can’t help but ask who the woman was. Just the mention of her portrait puts Arthur years in the past, right to the very night the two shared.

Words: 3,229

Warnings: F!Reader

A/N: When describing how Reader and Arthur met, the Reader will be referred to in third person (she/her), but when the main action and smut starts, it'll be back to second person (you)

It was not uncommon for Karen to take a peek into Arthur’s journal from time to time. Despite Arthur being protective of his journal, the only place in the world where he could be himself, he couldn’t always keep it on him. Sometimes when he went to bathe in a river nearby, or when he was doing chores around the camp, he would leave it in his satchel in his tent. He trusted his fellow gang members to not snoop around his belongings. The temptation to get a close look into the mind of the stoic gunslinger, however, was too much for Karen, so she would occasionally sneak a peek into it. She would find everything from doodles of animals to portraits of people to sketches of towns and forests. Some pages were filled with tales of the gang’s excursions, the gruesome details of their doings could rival those in crime novels that Hosea read from time to time. Others were filled with more mellow and intimate details of Arthur’s life, and despite being curious, Karen often skipped those, feeling as if reading those pages would cross an imaginary line she set for herself.

On one of these occasions, when she was flipping through the pages of Arthur’s journal as if through a newspaper, she came upon a portrait of a woman. It was the most detailed, carefully drawn picture out of all she has seen Arthur draw in his journal so far. The woman’s hair was spread over her head like a halo, and her unclothed bosom was thrusted upward, making it seem like she was in the midst of taking a gulp of air. Her eyes looked hazy, drowned in pleasure as they looked out from the pages of the journal, and Karen could feel herself grow embarrassed under the mystery woman’s stare.

“What are you doing?” Arthur’s gravel voice sounded behind her, and before she had a chance to say or do anything, the journal was pulled from her hands.

A wave of embarrassment and guilt came over her, and she could feel her face grow hot in seconds. She stammered for a few moments, trying to gather her courage, but no words came; she couldn’t defend herself, for she was clearly at fault.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said as she kept her eyes on the ground, too ashamed to look at Arthur.

Arthur didn’t reply. He moved past the girl to his cot where he satchel laid. He picked it up and put his journal in it before dropping it back on his cot.

“Enjoyed the reading material?” Arthur said with clear mockery in his voice. A mix of anger and embarrassment filled him. He felt very exposed, knowing that someone read through the pages he thought he was safe in. The journal was the only thing in the world to know the real Arthur Morgan. Everything that happened to him throughout the years, good and bad, was recorded there. Sometimes he felt that there was more of him in the journal than there was in himself.

“Arthur, I’m sorry!” Karen cried as Arthur walked away, back to his chores. He didn’t turn around at her voice, so she ran up to him. “Please, Arthur,” she said, bringing her hand to his shoulder to turn him to face her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

As he looked at her, he could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes. He was still angry, still disappointed and upset at her for what she did, but he found himself feeling bad for her, and angry at himself for being the cause of her tears. He shook his head before enveloping the girl in his arms, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay, you’re alright.”

The two of them were back in his tent, with Karen still apologizing to Arthur, and the latter assuring her that it truly was all right. Finally, after some time, when Karen felt back to herself, she sheepishly asked, “Who was that woman?” She knew that she was pushing her luck by asking such a question after what she’s done, but she couldn’t help it. The image of the woman hasn’t left her mind since she saw it, and she knew there must be an exciting story to accompany an equally exciting picture.

He didn’t need to be shown the picture, he knew instantly which she was talking about. Karen watched Arthur after asking the question, and she could see that the mention of it put a certain look into his eyes. Just the mention of her image could put him years into the past, right to the very night they shared. Sometimes, the memory felt like it was from another lifetime; yet he could always remember it with fine details, from the feelings of her skin against his own, to the smell of her hair and the warmth of her breath.

Arthur paused in surprise. The woman across the room stood leaning against the wall, one of her hands in her pants pocket, the other holding a shot glass. The air around her was thick with ease and independence and it seemed that everyone around was affected. The men who sat not far from her were turning their heads, trying to catch a glimpse of her face from under the brim of her hat. The barmen tried, and failed, to serve the patrons and keep his eye on the mystery woman at the same time. The woman in question though seemed to either not be aware of the effect she had on people, or didn’t care. As Arthur pushed past the saloon doors, she lifted her head, meeting his eyes, and he too, fell prey to her stare.

Despite being a grown man, he felt like a school boy as he tried to muster up the courage and introduce himself to the woman who seemed to have a strong hold over everyone in the establishment. As he downed a shot of whiskey, ready to make his advance, the woman was already by his side, introducing herself with easy and grace that enchanted him for years to come. The two spent a few hours together, getting to know each other. She was a bounty hunter, traveling from state to state in search of adventure and excitement. Each little bit of information that she fed him only made him hunger for more, and he felt that he will never be satiated.

The two promised to meet again, and that they did. On more than a few occasions, Arthur accompanied her to one of her bounty hunts, helping her despite both of them knowing that she could manage alone. What started as accidental meetings soon turned into planned ones, and a few times the two even went on jobs together, robbing coaches and homesteads. The time they spent together did nothing but make her hold over him stronger. Whenever he was away from her, he found that she was still with him, filling his mind with images of herself and the sound of her voice. Everything about her attracted him, from how different she was to any person he’s met before, to her effortless smile and to her beautiful name. He was caught in the gravity of her and he let it take over. Realizing that he didn’t want to count the days until their every meeting, a silly, boyish idea popped into his head that he knew he had to ask her the next time they met.

“I told you Arthur, I can’t,” you said as you jolted from the chair you were sitting not a moment ago, shaking your hand and walking over to a window on the other side.

He followed you right away and said, “Well why not?” and motioned around with his hands. You turned around to look at him, holding his gaze for a moment, seeing the fierceness and passion in his eyes that threatened to burn his cornea out. The two of you have been arguing for the last ten minutes. After yet another successful coach robbery, you went back to your hotel room to relax and celebrate the winnings. As you shared drinks and conversations with each other, Arthur was gathering the strength to ask you something that he’s been meaning to for the past few weeks.

“Would you want to come back with me, to my gang?” he said, catching you off guard and making you stop breathing for a few moments.

It was only natural that he would ask you something like that. With how much the two of you have been working together, you were practically already part of his gang in some way. Still, you couldn’t walk the final step and fully commit. You’ve been alone for the better part of your life; The ease of having no one to report to, and needing to worry about yourself only was something you weren’t willing to give up. You told him as much, and despite thinking of himself as a calm and collected man, he couldn’t accept your answer.

“I told you why,” you said, your voice now lower than it was a moment ago. Your eyes turned to look out of the hotel room window into the distance, past the small establishments that littered the main road. On the horizon, the sun was setting. The day was coming to an end, and so was your peculiar relationship with Arthur. You knew that at some point he would want more. There were the long gazes across the campfires, the occasional, drunk make-out sessions that never went too far. You knew that you were playing with fire with how long you stayed in the town, but it seemed that Arthur was not the only one to be caught in the gravity of the situation.

He came up to stand next to you, the proximity of his body making your stance weaken. “That ain’t good enough reason,” he said.

"It is for me,” you replied.

As if just realizing how pushy he has been, he stepped back, feeling embarrassed that his emotions, something that he thought he’s learned to control, got the better of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said and shook his head. He took a deep breath, trying to compose both himself and his emotions, carefully picking out the next words to say. “I just don’t wanna lose you. Each time we split, I’m afraid it’s for the last time,” he said, taking a small pause after each sentence, the silence in between emphasizing the weight of his words.

Despite working with, and being in close proximity to Arthur for the past few months, you’ve never seen this vulnerable side of him. You could see how hard it was for him to say what he felt. He didn’t seem like someone who often expressed his feelings orally, and it made each word mean so much more.

“Arthur,” you spoke his name, and reached out with your hand to touch his cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, like a child into the loving hands of their mother. He craved the warmth of your touch, and the knowledge that right now, you were still here, still with him.

He said your name, his voice still quiet and mellow, and said, “Stay with me.” The tone of his voice kept the sentence teetering somewhere between a question and a statement and you didn’t reply anything in return, instead moving closer, and pressing your lips against his.

At the feeling of your lips against his own, he could feel every fiber in his being wake up to life. He could feel his heartbeat all over his body; in his chest, his throat and his hands, which went immediately to your hips and brought your flush against him. The feeling of his body against yours was intoxicating, and your hands immediately went to explore every inch you could get to.

He was slowly pushing you backwards, small, careful steps towards the bed in the back of the room, till you hit it with the back of your knees. Without breaking the kiss, you fell into the bed, pulling Arthur down with you. Everything about this moment was beautiful, from the feeling of your body under his, the movement of your lips against his own, to the warmth of your skin against his. He wished for this moment to never end.

He broke the kiss, only to instantly move his lips to your neck, peppering it with kisses and light nips. The sound of your voice, sighing and moaning his name only spurred him more and more, and before long he was talking off your top, revealing your chest to him. For a moment, he stopped his movements and admired your beauty. You were like a nymph, mysterious and hypnotizing. Everything about you drew him in, from the shape of your lips, to the hazy way you looked at him. You were too beautiful to be real, and he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, you would disappear like the dream you were.

The two of you were far too starved for each other’s bodies to prolong the inevitable for much longer, and were quickly pulling at each other’s clothes. His hands were working on the buttons of your pants, while yours were pulling down his suspenders. He was pulling down your pants while you were pushing open his shirt. Before too long, the two of you were naked before each other. You reached out with your hands, running it down his neck to his muscular chest and his stomach, down to his hard member. Your mouth salivated at the sight of him, and you licked your lips, suddenly thinking that you’ve never been with a man as arousing as Arthur was. With your carnal desires taking over you, you parted your legs, inviting him in. His mind was too clouded by lust to act civilized or gentleman-y, so he quickly took the invitation and settled between your legs. He dropped down to capture your lips once again, before taking a hold of his member and slowly pushing in. Even through the kiss, you could hear the sound of your combined moans as the two of you became one. All your thoughts were centered on how good it felt, on how good he felt. Arthur stilled for a moment when he was all the way in, trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath, but the feeling of your walls enveloping him, and your hands now holding onto his forearms made him shudder, and he lost himself, setting a steady rhythm which left you a moaning, writhing mess under him.

Everything meshed together as the two of you lost yourself in the pleasure of each other’s bodies. His lips were on your neck, kissing your soft skin, while his hands were on your hips and your waist, relishing in the curves of your body. Your legs were hooked over his torso, holding him close to you, while your nails dug into his back, holding for dear life and leaving crimson marks behind that hurt just enough to make Arthur crave more.

You couldn’t tell whether hours or seconds passed when you felt yourself near the peak. All your energy and attention centered on where the two of you were connected. Arthur felt you tighten around him, could feel the warmth of your ragged breaths. He sneaked a hand between the two of you and found your clit. The feeling of his finger on you was the last thing you needed to come apart, and with a moan of his name, you did. Your legs trembled and your voice rose an octave or two as immense pleasure ran through veins, filling all of you with its warmth.

Arthur wasn’t far behind, and after a few more thrust, he succumbed to the pleasures and pulled out, releasing himself on your stomach.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, he found your lips once again. The kiss was slower, more sensual than the one you shared in the beginning. The kiss spoke more than the two of you have been for the past few months. He confessed his love for you with the way he bit your bottom lip. With the flick of your tongue, you said “Me too”

His mind was blank as you laid on his chest, asleep. For the first time in a long time, he felt content and relaxed. One of his hands was on the small of your back, keeping you close against him, while the other played with a strand of your hair. After a few minutes, he gently pulled himself up and took a satchel that laid on the bedside table. He pulled his journal and a pen out and started drawing. Whether you were going to come with him or not, he wanted to always have an image of you with him, to remind him of the woman that you were. With the sketch done, he put his journal back into his satchel and turned around, capturing you in his hands and with a small yawn, fell asleep.

He woke up, but instead of finding the warm, desired body next to him, found emptiness. He looked around, the room was bare; her clothes, guns and bags were gone. He pushed himself from the bed and went to look out of the window to where their horses were hitched last night and found only his own there. He closed his eyes and stood still for a moment. The hotel room suddenly felt too big and empty for him.

Just like her, the conclusion to their peculiar relation left him with many questions that he knew would torment his mind for months to come. He wondered if it was a mistake to ask her to come with him so soon. Should he have waited a bit more? Or should’ve he just enjoyed what they had and see where it would take him? With these thoughts, he packed his things and left the hotel room.

“And that’s all there is to it,” Arthur said, turning to look at Karen. The girl, after hearing the entire story, was left with her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. She could see, with the way Arthur talked and the way his eyes looked out into the distance, that despite years and distance, the woman still had the same hold on him. She wanted to ask him if he ever tried to find her, but she felt that she already opened up too many old wounds. Instead, she thanked him for sharing the story with him, and promised to never look into his journal again.

With everyone asleep and the main campfire empty, he found himself in his cot, unable to fall asleep. He could feel the weight of her head on his chest, the feeling of her hair in his hand. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he did of her. With years, the memory of months that they shared together was becoming more fuzzy, and sometimes, he wondered if they happened at all. The only thing he had to remind him that it was all real was that portrait and the feelings he still had for her.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagines #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan headcanons #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfics #arthur morgan fanfic

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years

Text

Three Nights (Unconditional sequel)

Night Two

05/25/2021

Pairing: August Walker x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 1,807

Warnings: hormones, sex during pregnancy, fingering, vaginal sex, slight dom!August, dirty talk, language

Summary: In the middle of her second trimester, Mrs Walker is a hormonal mess. One night, she finds herself in dire need of release, but August just won't wake.

A/N: Next part of the sequel coming right up and things are getting a little steamy...

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

(I couldn't find the source of this picture, so if anyone happens to know, please tell me.)

“August?”

Expectantly she listened into the silence. Nothing. Well, at least if one didn’t count his steady breathing and the rolling of the waves in the distance.

“August,” she tried again, a little louder this time. But still he didn’t move. Measuring her options, she watched his face in the pale moonlight that fell through the open windows. He looked so peaceful, and she envied him his deep slumber. How was he not even sweating in this clammy heat?

Finally, the curtains swayed in a breeze of night air, making her hope for a little refreshment, but it only brought more of the sweltering humidity. With a thud, her head fell back into the pillows, underlined by a frustrated sigh. Slowly her hands drifted over the already rather prominent bump that had once been a delightfully squishy part of her body.

“You know this is really only your fault, right? As if the bloody nausea hadn’t been enough in the first place, now you decide to torture me with everlasting horniness instead. Is it too early to say that you’re taking after your father completely?”

But instead of an answer, another gush of wind rolled over her sensitive skin, the sensation alone enough to make her moan as it coaxed another wave of desire to roll through her. This was insufferable, she thought, as she propped herself up on one elbow again. Why wouldn’t he just wake up? At every other time, he picked up on her horny state with the precision of a bloodhound. Damned be his stupid sound sleep.

She bit her lip as a thought crossed her mind. She would most likely regret this and in the end it would probably hurt her more than him. But desperate times demanded desperate measures, and by now she was willing to do almost anything if he only tended to her need and got his dick inside of her promptly.

“August!” she almost yelled and with a swish, her hand cut through the thick air until it came down on his cheek with a harsh slap.

Roaring at the top of his lungs he was wide awake in an instant. And before she could fathom what was happening, she found herself on her back, wrists pressed into the pillow next to her head by his strong hands, furious eyes glaring down at her wildly.

“You’re lucky you’re carrying my child, woman, or you might have found yourself bend over my knees by now to receive your adequate punishment.”

She could feel her walls clench violently around nothing by the mere thought of him having his way with her like that. And before she even had the chance to hold it back, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, very much.” She bit her lip again and it didn’t escape her notice how his grip on her loosened a bit, his eyes softening equally upon her eagerness.

“Is this why you woke me up?”

She nodded, shooting him a perfect pair of doe eyes. “Bloody hormones won’t let me sleep, Augie.”

With a huff, more of the tension left his body. “At least that would explain why you thought it wise to slap me awake.”

“What else was I supposed to do? I did try the nice way, but you just wouldn’t wake up and my panties are literally soaked.”

He growled lowly in the back of his throat, making her clench even harder.

“Are they now?”

Careful not to put his weight onto her body, he clutched both of her wrists in just one hand. He grinned smugly and she knew immediately that she was in trouble. The best kind of trouble. And while she still couldn’t believe that her ludicrous plan had actually worked, his free hand dipped down between her legs without a warning, forcing them apart to grant him better access. Lazily, he dragged his fingers through her folds, stirring the fire inside of her with minimal effort.

“Now that’s disappointing.” What? Having expected his praise, those words of displeasure made her heart fall instantly. But he wasn’t done scolding her, yet. “First you hit me like a bloody lunatic and now you have the audacity to lie to my face so shamelessly, princess?”

“I’m not lying,” she croaked, feeling utterly sorry for herself as she saw her chances for satisfaction dwindle, “My juices are practically flowing over.”

But August’s face stayed unreadable, giving her no hint at all where this was going.

“Oh, no doubt about that,” he finally stated after a long minute of silence.

Wrinkling her forehead in confusion, she was forced to watch helplessly as his face came closer. She could already feel his searing breath on her lips, closing her eyes in anticipation of a redeeming kiss, when he turned his head only the fraction of an inch before contact and dove down into the crook of her neck.

“But your panties aren’t soaked at all, princess, because actually, you’re not wearing any.”

The hunger in his impossibly low voice would have been enough to make her dizzy, but when he bit down on her neck with purpose her body reacted of its own accord. Her back arched violently, pressing herself into him while a deep moan told of her want for more. And when she suddenly felt his fingertips press into her entrance, she knew that his whole act of disappointment had simply been for show. A distraction, so that he -

Oh God, his fingers were filling her so perfectly. Deeper and deeper he sank into her until he was buried three knuckles deep. With a gasp her eyes flew open again and she almost missed his next sentence above the white noise that rushed in her ears.

“You know, you’re really lucky, my painfully aroused angel. Because your sweet little pussy is far too wet to worry about such minor details now.”

His fingers had picked up a steady pace, sliding in and out of her sensitive womanhood pointedly. It was a good start, she thought, but by far not enough to sate her craving. As always, he enjoyed teasing her more than anything. But unlike every other time, tonight she wasn’t in the mood for his teasing, not in the agonising state she was in.

“August, please,” she whimpered. “You promised to make it better, not worse.”

Unimpressed by her words, he continued his slow ministrations, his mouth nipping and sucking its way from her shoulder to her ear.

“You must be mistaken,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft spot right underneath her ear that made her shiver. “I can’t remember making a promise like that at any point.”

Another wave of frustration took hold of her as her brain registered his repeated rejection. Straining against his tight grip, she was practically begging by now.

“Please, I…”

“Say it!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

No, she wouldn’t let him have this triumph, even if he chose to deny her the satisfaction she longed for because of her disobedience. In that case she would have to tend to herself, but under no circumstance would she let him tease her anymo - oh.

Holy shit. She didn’t know how this was possible, but it somehow had escaped her notice altogether that his head had abandoned its spot next to hers and had dipped down to pay his attention to one of her oversensitive breasts. And before she would lose her mind completely, she cried out in a state of utter desperation.

“I need you to fuck me, August. Please. Let me feel your hard cock deep inside of me or I’ll go insane.”

In the blink of an eye he stopped, his hands and mouth retreating as soon as she had finally said the words, giving her some time to calm down a little.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, princess, was it?” he whispered smugly. “Now let me deliver you from your agony.”

Her senses still in overdrive, she felt too weak to even move, but that didn’t matter anyway because, as always, August took care of her. Gently he moved her around until her body moulded into his perfectly. His warm chest lay against her back, his arm offering her a comfortable place to rest her head, and soon she could feel the claiming press of his promisingly hard length. With no effort at all, he sank into her, and finally, finally the excruciating unease inside of her ebbed away.

“Shit, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, darling.” His hot breath fanned across her neck, setting her on fire.

“I’ve also never been this pregnant and this horny before,” she moaned, her hand finding his on the cool sheets, entwining her fingers with his as he slowly started to move.

“Don’t worry. I promise we’re going to change one of these two in no time.”

And eager to keep his promise, his free hand dove down to the junction of her thighs, granting himself access to her bud. Carefully he pressed down, opting for drawing slow, deliberate circles. She was so hypersensitive as of lately and he was determined not to overdo it like last time. But judging from her elaborated breaths and the tell-tale sounds that fell from her sweet mouth, she was enjoying herself genuinely.

“August.” His name rolled over her lips with a shiver while his mouth tended to the sweet spot on her neck. Argus-eyed, he monitored every movement, every noise she made. Her relief was all that mattered to him now. But the first beads of sweat were already beginning to form on her forehead, triggering his worry in mere seconds.

“Should we stop?”

“No!” she almost cried out as if she was in pain. “Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

And as soon as she had uttered the words, she could feel the eagerly-awaited tension inside of her build. Every thrust, every kiss he left on her overheated skin, every groan that rolled through his chest brought her closer, pushing her closer towards deliverance. And when she finally passed the point of no return, she turned her head to find his lips while the redeeming pleasure rolled over her enraptured body. And just when she thought she would pass out from all the bliss, she could feel his response.

He was sure that she had never climaxed this hard, her walls gripping him so tightly that the sensation caught him completely off guard. Speeding up his hips, he allowed himself to give in as well. And while his mind gradually clouded over, he grabbed her belly possessively in his last moment of clarity and for the first time, he could feel a sign of the life that was growing inside of her.

Part 3

***

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @agniavateira

#august walker x reader #august walker #august walker x you #august walker imagine #august walker fic #august walker fanfiction #august walker fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine

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xiaomoxu · 3 years

Text

Lucien - Mind’s Quest: Arriving With The Crowd

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

Please beware of roller-coaster emotions from this. A sweet moment yet has a deep meaning between them, is ready to serve you~

*) I put [...] on my thought about some scene.

Translations under the cut~

Part 1

??: Lucien, MC, we met again.

On the way when Lucien and I get off from work, suddenly a familiar voice came from behind us.

We spontaneously turned around and saw our neighbor, Mr. Zhang, carrying a supermarket bag and beckoning to us with a smile.

Mr. Zhang: Recently, I saw you two commuting to and from get off from work together every day. It's a really good relationship.

MC: Mr. Zhang also helps your wife buy vegetables every day.

Mr. Zhang: My wife’s legs are not good, so I will run more errands. It’s not the same as when you are young.

Mr. Zhang: I remember MC said last time that you were going on a business trip, when would you leave?

MC: I will leave tomorrow.

Mr. Zhang: Oh my, it's no wonder! Then I won't bother you, so I'll leave you two.

Lucien: Okay, I understand, please be careful Mr. Zhang.

Mr. Zhang smiled and looked at us again, then strode away.

I received an outdoor reality show a while ago. I planned to go to the countryside of a neighboring province to shoot for three months. I heard that the signal over there is not very good and it is inconvenient to communicate.

In order to make up for the time when the two places were about to be separated, Lucien and I made an appointment to spare some time every day before departure.

Almost all the spare time was used by us when commuting to and from get off work, visiting the supermarket, and buying breakfast.

Even if it is somewhat "inseparable" in the eyes of others, I still feel that this time is far from enough.

When I was thinking about it, Lucien gently squeezed my hand, recalling my thoughts.

Lucien: How do you plan to spend the last night at home?

MC: Speaking of it, it might be a bit boring...

MC: In fact, my luggage hasn't been packed yet, so I'm always worried about what's left.

Lucien: Let me check it with you later.

Lucien: There is a distance between the shooting location and the urban area, so you still need to prepare well.

MC: Okay.

I looked up at the bright evening sky, and couldn't help but move closer to Lucien, entangled his arm.

MC: But the weather is so good today, let's go slowly.

Lucien: Alright.

As he said that, Lucien slowed down, we dragged a long shadow and walked slowly towards home.

Early the next morning, Lucien escorted me to the station.

After taking the luggage out of the trunk, I stood still and did not move.

Standing at the gate of the station, the dismay of parting suddenly surged up.

Lucien turned around with a sense and helped me stroke the messy hair in my ear.

Lucien: This time it's my turn to help you take care of the green plants. Don't worry, I will take care of them.

Lucien: And for you, if you need my help over there, remember to tell me.

MC: Okay.

I opened my mouth, but couldn't say anything more. Lucien sighed lightly and pulled me into his arms.

Lucien: It's ok, the words you want to say, I understand.

Lucien patted my back lightly, as if he wanted me to feel at ease.

I gradually calmed down, feeling the breath in his arms a little greedily, wanting to save a strength for myself.

None of us spoke, just let time pass quietly.

A radio alert sounded vaguely in the station, and the restraint on my waist was loosened. I also let go of my hand and raised a smile to Lucien.

MC: Phew... Recharge completed.

Lucien: It seems that the big producer is ready.

MC: Um! I will work hard, strive to go and return early.

Lucien: Okay, I'll wait for you to come back.

I waved to Lucien, pulled up the luggage and walked into the station.

After passing the security check and walking far away, I couldn't help but look back.

At the entrance of the station people were coming and going. I don't know who they are going to go to or who they have just said goodbye.

Lucien still stood on the spot, looking at me from a distance.

A train came into the station, and the crowd quickly engulfed him.

But knowing that someone is watching, has filled me with confidence.

Exclusive Radio

Lucien: The question just now is almost like this.

Lucien: After you go back, you can adjust your opening report based on today's discussion.

Lucien: Do you have any other questions?

Student A&B: There's none.

Lucien: Okay, that's all for today.

Student A: Huh? There is another hot search on the news.

Student A: "The villagers broke the news that the film crew was polluting the environment...This film crew seems to belong to the company "Miracle Finders", right?

Student B: Yes, I saw their propaganda a few days ago, saying that they are going to the neighboring province to shoot a reality show.

Student A: Local villagers said that they dumped sewage into the river and also posted photos.

Student B: This is too unqualified, right? Do you want to destroy people's environment in the name of local customs?

Lucien: ....

Student A: Wait a minute, Professor Lucien is the consultant of "Miracle Finders" .....

Student B: It's, Professor Lucien, we didn't have other meaning...

Lucien: It doesn't matter. It's a matter of fact. If the film crew really makes a mistake, it is normal to be criticized.

Lucien: But I want to know, did the photos on the hot search actually capture the scene where the show crew dumped sewage?

Student A: Not really, only pictures of the river.

Lucien: Then we better not draw conclusions so quickly.

Lucien: There is no objective fact of "the program group dumped sewage" in this photo, only the result of "the river water was polluted."

Lucien: People can stand from different angles and use this result to infer many different stories.

Lucien: There is only one true fact.

Lucien: How do you prove it, are the stories you heard were the facts?

Student A: I.....

Student B: Look, the program group issued a statement to refute the rumors!

Student B: They also did a picture comparison. It turns out that the picture on the hot search is a picture several years ago.

Student A: Huh? Then someone maliciously spread the rumors.

Student A: ... Sorry Professor Lucien, we were a little impulsive just now.

Lucien: There is no need to apologize to me, it is essentially the fault of the rumors.

Lucien: However, since the thesis is about to start the topic, you can use this matter to remind everyone.

Lucien: Whether you are doing research or encountering social events, don't be too impatient. Set your mind down and analyze the logic carefully.

Lucien: I will also look at your logic loopholes during the defense. So, I hope you will prepare it well.

Student A: Good professor, we must prepare carefully!

Lucien: Well, let's go back.

(Lucien left the room and close the door behind)

Lucien: Huh? No phone, no news...

Lucien: Forget it.

Part 2 - Main Story

I settled down at the shooting location and confirmed some shooting-related matters. It was too late when I got back to my senses.

--The whole day's hard work hits my body, but the unfamiliar environment makes me sleepless.

I unlocked the phone and saw that the conversation with Lucien was still staying in the report after arriving.

Suddenly I wanted to talk to him, so I raised my arm to find the signal direction and knocked on what I saw today.

MC: "Today, I was dealing with emergencies, the network was unstable, and the scene was very chaotic..."

MC: "But fortunately, I saw a very interesting book on the way, specially introduce words with special meaning."

MC: "For example, this one."

I posted a photo of a page in the book with the Greek word "pathos" on it.

T/N: The Greek word pathos means "suffering," "experience," or "emotion." It was borrowed into English in the 16th century, and for English speakers, the term usually refers to the emotions produced by tragedy or a depiction of tragedy. "Pathos" has quite a few kin in English. A "pathetic" sight moves us to pity.

It means the sense of yearning and longing for those who are absent.

I waited for a while, but Lucien didn't reply, he should have fallen asleep.

I confidently continued to type on the keyboard and talked out all kinds of experiences in one mind.

MC: "The villagers are very kind and hospitable and helped us a lot."

MC: "The air is also very fresh, and a faint fragrance of green grass can be smelled everywhere."

MC: "But there are so many bugs! Thanks to you reminding me to wear long pants yesterday."

I told everything from morning to night, and when I was about to say something, my phone suddenly shook.

A video call invitation appears on the screen.

I sat up, scratching my hair twice before press the answer button.

MC: You haven't slept yet...

Lucien: Well, just after finishing the report, I received your self-thinking message.

Lucien: I thought I couldn't wait for your good night today, but I didn't expect to receive a "big gift before going to bed".

MC: I don't know if you're still awake, is it bothering you?

Lucien: How come, I didn't feel disturbed.

Lucien: It should be said that I am very happy to see you share these experiences, in every detail.

Lucien: It seems that I am also experiencing these with you.

Lucien picked up the phone on the side and swiped, and smiled in a good mood.

Lucien: The book you took is also very interesting. The author has developed such a rich interpretation just around the word "pathos".

Lucien: This is the first time I know what this word means in Greek.

MC: Does this word exist in other languages?

Lucien: Well, I remember that this word is often used in English to convey the appeal of artistic works. It also means "sympathy" and "suffering".

MC: When you say this, you feel that there is a subtle connection between these two interpretations.

MC: Missing or longing for someone you care about can be considered "suffering", right?

Lucien: Maybe it is true.

Lucien: When the person you care about is not around, everything about her becomes more conspicuous, which makes people more aware of the fact that she is not around.

Lucien: Just like today.

Seeing that I was a little confused, Lucien pointed to his mobile phone.

Lucien: I saw some people on the Internet saying that the villagers at the filming location are somewhat dissatisfied with you.

Lucien: Is this the emergency you dealt with?

MC: ....I thought my actions for solving the problem were fast enough to keep you from discovering it.

Lucien: I thought you would talk to me about this sooner, so I have been waiting for your news.

I was stunned for a moment, and then quickly smiled at Lucien.

MC: Don't worry, those on the Internet are all rumors, I’ve already solved it.

MC: In fact, we get along very well, and we promised to let the guests help a family draw portraits tomorrow.

Lucien: Well, then I won't worry about it.

Lucien paused, and suddenly moved closer to the camera, seeming to want to see something clearly.

Lucien: Why you keep supporting your arm like that, is it not comfortable?

MC: No, because the signal at this spot is better...

MC: The accommodation conditions here are actually pretty good, and the rooms are clean and tidy.

MC: Except for the occasional signal, you have to looking for the angle yourself.

Lucien: I can imagine how you would look for a signal while holding your phone.

MC: You're teasing me again!

Lucien: Alright, I won't teasing you. It seems that you can sleep well tonight.

I lay down again holding my phone and patted the hard bed underneath.

MC: Newcomers may still have to get used to the bed for a few days.

Lucien: In this case, I will lie down with you.

Lucien turned off the top light and walked to the bed to lie down. I followed and turned off the ceiling lamp, leaving only the small lamp beside the bed.

The screen went dark, and Lucien's face also looked a little fuzzy.

We lie on each other's sides, looking at the screen, as if we were lying face to face.

Lucien kept looking at me. I was a little embarrassed by him, and my eyes began to drift around.

Lucien: Where are you looking at?

MC: ... I can't sleep, I want to divert my attention.

Lucien: It's better to close your eyes first, and I'll help you.

Seeing Lucien's encouraging gaze, I closed my eyes, and his low voice quickly came from my ears.

Lucien: Next, can you tell me what sound you can hear over there?

I pricked my ears and listened carefully, perhaps because my vision was blocked, my hearing became extremely sensitive.

MC: There is the barking of puppies and the roar of the machine.

MC: The alarm bell of a car rang...It was a bit noisy.

I subconsciously covered my head with a quilt, remembering that Lucien was still watching, and then secretly revealed half of my face.

Lucien: I seem to forget to remind you to bring earplugs.

Lucien: If you bear with it, the owner should wake up soon.

As soon as Lucien's voice fell, the noise outside the window stopped, and the world returned to silence.

Lucien: Is it quiet?

MC: Well, it feels quieter now than before...

We were silent in unison. Maybe the night is getting darker, and there is no other sound in my ears for a long time.

I don't know how long it took before I vaguely caught a tiny movement.

There are small ups and downs in the steady, it is Lucien's breathing.

I brought the phone closer, and subconsciously let my breathing keep up with his rhythm, as if we were in the same space.

My mind slowly calmed down, and my consciousness gradually drifted away in this sudden connection.

MC: Lucien...

Lucien: Hm?

MC: Good-

Did I say "good night"? It was too late to confirm, and my mind was gradually empty.

I do seem to be a little sleepy.

I don't know how long it took, Lucien's breathing gradually became even longer.

The girl on the screen is asleep, but she seems to have not released the phone yet.

Lucien sighed almost inaudibly, then curled the corners of his mouth again.

She was right, "The yearning and longing for those who are not around" does make people suffer.

Lucien gently stroked the sleeping face on the screen with his fingers, and spoke softly.

Lucien: Good night.

Part 2 - Memory Silhouette

Half a month has passed since the shooting. On weekend mornings, I was putting on makeup while chatting with Lucien.

MC: Professor Lucien has worked hard, and accompany me to get up early on weekends.

Lucien: It's okay, I just came back from buying breakfast.

MC: Huh? You finally remember to have breakfast on time!

Lucien: I heard that the spring limited soup dumplings from the Huxin Road store will be off the market in a few days.

Lucien: Thinking you might like it, I bought it.

Lucien: However, I forgot that you were not at home and accidentally bought two portions.

Lucien fiddled with the bag on the table and sighed softly.

I touched my flat stomach and sighed.

MC: I knew I should have eaten it again before I left, now I have to wait until next year...

Lucien: Then wait until next spring, we will buy it the first day it goes on sale.

MC: Okay! Then if you want to eat more today, just eat one for me.

Seeing Lucien nodded with a smile, I just patted the sunscreen on my face and closed my makeup bag.

Lucien: How do you feel that your dressing time has become shorter today?

Lucien: It usually takes at least half an hour before you come knock on my door.

I hummed twice, leaned close to the phone and tapped on the screen.

MC: Professor Lucien may not be aware of it. Make-up takes time and it takes time to remove makeup.

MC: At days, moving bricks are precious as moving gold, and I’m sleepy at night, so I don’t want to bother to remove my makeup.

MC: And now, it’s more important to be able to concentrate on talking with you for a while.

Lucien looked at me, smiling at the corners of his eyes and eyebrows.

Lucien: It seems that I was too accustomed to this intention before, and I will cooperate more with your time in the future.

Lucien: Speaking of this, I found a lipstick at home yesterday, which should have been dropped by you.

Lucien got up and disappeared from the screen for a while, and when he returned, he had the lipstick in his hand.

He opened the lid and showed it to me. I recognized that this was the one I carried with me before. The paste had already bottomed out.

MC: Actually this one is about to run out, just throw it away for me.

Lucien: Do you like this color very much?

MC: Yes, it's very versatile.

Lucien thoughtfully twirled out the remaining lipstick. I looked at him with a curious expression and couldn't help but smile.

MC: Lucien, in your eyes, are the various lipstick look similar?

Lucien: Just looking at it, it's a bit difficult to tell.

Lucien: But after you apply it, I can see the difference.

[Not me crying over this conversation ㅠㅠ]

MC: Unexpectedly, Professor Lucien is also have a talent for such things...

Lucien: This is not my talent.

Lucien: You make these colors look clearer and more beautiful.

[UGLY SOBBING]

It sounds like a joke, but his tone is very sincere.

I was a little embarrassed to look away, and my heart was filled with sweetness because of his attention.

MC: Do you have any favorite color?

Lucien: I have. What I see now is the one I like the most.

My cheeks were slightly hot, and I was about to say something when the phone alarm rang suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

Lucien: Is it time for assembly?

MC: Mmhm, how can time pass so fast...

MC: Then I'll go out first.

Lucien: Be careful on the road and take a break.

Lucien waved his hand as I did, and the sunlight shining in the room reflected his smile more clearly.

After finishing the call, I also subconsciously glanced out the window.

Although we can't spend this weekend together, but fortunately, we still enjoy the same sunshine.

Part 3 - Main Story

It has been a month since the shooting started, and the daytime sunshine gradually warmed up.

Three poles on this day, we set up the machine under the sun, but a guest did not wait.

Perhaps because of the sweltering weather, the guests were not very enthusiastic about their work, and even began to find all kinds of excuses to try "ask for leave".

Physical discomfort, temporary travel, family affairs... all sorts of things like

The reasons for yes and no are endless, which makes us very embarrassed.

I communicated privately a few times, hoping that they would cooperate with the work, but within a few days, the old drama will repeat itself.

Today was another morning without anyone. My colleagues took turns to the residence to persuade. I also made a few calls to the guests’ agents.

Fortunately, after some coordination, the guests finally came forward, and we started the machine in the afternoon.

But in this state, the shooting process becomes a bit difficult. The venue is not cool enough, there are too many retakes caused by the wear, and I don't like interactive sessions...

Little things that did not constitute a problem have become problems. I tried my best to explain from them, so that my colleagues and guests did not quarrel.

In order to ensure the quality, I temporarily decided to stop work ahead of schedule after the key parts were taken.

I took advantage of the break time and prepared to go to the nearby supermarket to buy some supplies to comfort everyone.

Along the way, the villagers who came home passed by, and the sound of conversation and the roar of tricycles filled the evening breeze.

Although they looked tired, everyone was happy on the way home.

I suddenly remembered the days when I left work with Lucien before I left. At that time, I also had the same happiness as them. It was expectation and stability.

I don't know what Lucien is doing now. Did he leave work on time? Did he eat well? I took out my cell phone, but found that there was no signal.

I turned off the screen, walked silently to the entrance of the village, and suddenly a bright light shrouded my head.

The street light was on, and the warm light spread on the road outside the village. In front of the platform not far away, a bus full of passengers was pitting in.

Looking at the scene in front of me, I seemed to be gently pushed by a force and changed the direction of advancement.

I got on that bus.

Clerk: Welcome!

MC: ....

Originally, I just wanted to take the bus to relax, but I didn't expect to sit at the terminal --- the railway station accidentally.

The power that clamored in my heart drove me to buy a ticket for the fastest return to Loveland City.

When I walked out of the Loveland City Railway Station, it was raining heavily outside.

I watched the pedestrians passing by in the rain, and the reason for escaping gradually returned to my brain.

I walked into a nearby 24-hour store and sat down. I was looking at the night view outside the window and combing my thoughts. My phone suddenly vibrated, and Lucien's messages popped out.

Lucien: "Are you done?"

MC: "Well, it's finished."

I thought about it and added another sentence.

MC: "it's raining outside."

Lucien: "It's a coincidence, it's raining in Loveland City."

Listening to the patter of rain, I calmed down a bit and dialed the video call.

Lucien quickly picked it up. With the light on, I saw the familiar room behind him at a glance, which seemed to be my living room.

MC: Lucien, are you at my house?

Lucien: Mmhm, the rain is a bit heavy, let me move the green plants on your balcony.

Lucien: Are you still outside?

MC: I'll go out to buy something for everyone, and I'll go back when the rain drops a bit.

Lucien: It's already a bit late, so be careful when you go back.

MC: Don't worry, I am fully equipped.

As I talked, I nodded vigorously, as if to prove something, and as if I just wanted to convince myself.

Under the bright light, Lucien's dark circles were obvious, and his face looked a little pale.

There was a bit of sourness in my heart, I subconsciously moved closer to the screen.

MC: Lucien, what have you been up to lately?

Lucien: There is a study at the end, and the things at hand are a bit trivial.

MC: Is it very hard? You look a little haggard.

Lucien: In order to avoid blemishes as much as possible, it is indeed a bit harder.

Lucien: But it will be over soon, don't worry about me.

Lucien: But you seem to be very busy lately. Have you encountered any difficulties?

MC: There is a little problem...but fortunately, it is not difficult to solve.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking that I secretly ran back to Loveland City like this, I always felt a little embarrassed, so I changed the subject.

I glanced at the room behind him, and suddenly caught a bright color near the window sill.

MC: Lucien, what's on the windowsill...?

Lucien: Recently, a new flower shop opened near the research institute. There are many type of flowers and they are very beautiful.

Lucien: So I bought some privately and put them in your house.

MC: Well, I want to see it too.

Lucien switched the camera to the rear, and I saw a row of flowers on the windowsill, almost in full bloom.

It can be seen that these flowers are taken care of by Lucien very well, but the colors are all gorgeous, and they are inevitably dazzling when they are placed together.

always feel that this is not in line with Lucien's style, so I spoke with some doubts.

MC: Lucien, did you choose this all?

Lucien: I just chose the type of flowers, and the clerk helped to match the others.

Lucien: What's the matter?

MC: Nothing... they are bloomed very well.

MC: Is it time-consuming to raise so much?

Lucien: It does take time to change the water and pruning, but once in a while, it can be regarded as a kind of rest.

Lucien: Sometimes it is a little more comfortable to do things according to your own will, right?

I vaguely think that he meant something. Did he find out what he sneaked back into? It shouldn't be so obvious....

Just as I was thinking about how to respond to him, Lucien turned back to the camera and met my gaze.

Lucien: What about you, is there anything you really want to do now?

MC: Yes, I really want to go home, and immediately sleep for three days and three nights, and then go to eat hot pot and soup dumplings.

MC: I also want to watch movies and dramas instead of the ones I made myself.

Lucien: I thought that at least one of these wishes was related to me.

MC: Of course it is related to you. These are all things I want to do with you.

MC: It’s just that sometimes I don’t dare to think too much. It would be a little sad if I remember that you are not around.

I lowered my eyes, on the opposite side, Lucien did not speak for a while. Only after a while, I heard his voice again.

Lucien: In fact, every time the flowers bloom and wither, I also get annoyed.

Lucien: It would be nice if I could see it with you. If I raise it with you, it might be able to bloom longer.

Lucien: I am used to witnessing these moments with you. When you are not around, it is really uncomfortable.

I looked at his slightly bent eyes, and the bottom of my heart loosened for a moment, like a seed coming out of the soil.

MC: Then next time there are flowers blooming, please send me a picture.

MC: Although the network on my side may be delayed, it can be considered as a witness with you.

The smile on Lucien's lips deepened, and he nodded gently.

Customers opened the door one after another, and I glanced out the window. The rain had stopped.

Worried about revealing my position, I hurriedly moved closer to my phone.

MC: Lucien, the rain stopped on my side, I'm going to catch the last bus first.

MC: Let's continue tomorrow, go to bed early. Good night!

Lucien: ... Alright, pay attention to safety. Good night.

As soon as Lucien's voice fell, I hung up the phone in a hurry, and quickly bought a ticket to the neighboring province.

The sky was still gloomy, but my mood faintly became lighter.

One-sided thoughts may be troubles, but if this trouble gets a response, it turns into some kind of power.

The feeling of wanting to escape disappears. Between parting and reunion, I will run as soon as possible.

Because I know he is waiting for me.

Part 4 - Main Story

The filming work has been going on for two months, and the sense of summer has gradually become clearer.

It wasn't until the evening when the heat subsided. Colleagues walked to the restaurant one after another. I took out my mobile phone and walked to a place where there was a signal, and left a message to Lucien.

MC: "I have finished work, is Professor Lucien still busy?"

The words "The other party is typing" appeared at the top of the dialog box, but soon stopped and changed to a video call invitation.

I hurriedly picked it up and Lucien's figure appeared on the screen. He was wearing a white coat and seemed to be still in the laboratory.

Lucien: Sorry, I may have to work overtime today.

Lucien: When checking the data, we found some problems, and we need to "rescue" them.

MC: Is it serious?

Lucien: Fortunately, it's just a bit time-consuming to process.

Lucien rubbed his eyebrows, and my heart tightened suddenly as I looked at his tired face.

MC: I remember that you were finishing up last month, is it almost to the deadline?

Lucien: It's less than a week.

Lucien: This time I brought a newcomer, and there are a lot of things that need to be run-in in the details.

MC: They might feel a little nervous, it's the first time they take on an important job.

MC: But with Professor Lucien, everyone will be able to find the way out smoothly.

Lucien smiled and moved a little closer to the screen.

Lucien: I find that in your eyes, "Professor Lucien" always seems to be very powerful.

MC: Not only "Professor Lucien", in my eyes, Lucien is omnipotent.

MC: As the saying goes, those who can do more work, but you can't force yourself too much.

MC: Maybe you can’t rest assured now, but I have a tip to make you feel better.

Lucien: Oh? I really need it. Please tell me your advice, teacher MC.

MC: When it's really difficult, just give yourself a wish.

MC: In this way, every day we are moving towards that final wish and we have overcome many difficulties without realizing it.

MC: For example, arrange a vacation or travel, as long as it is something you like to do!

Lucien looked at me for a while and suddenly laughed.

Lucien: Thank you, teacher MC. I understand.

Lucien: In fact, this wish has always existed, maybe I'm just too impatient.

MC: What is Professor Lucien's wish?

Lucien blinked at me and skipped the question.

Lucien: If I remember correctly, your filming is also coming to an end.

MC: Well, the part of the reality show has basically been filmed, and I will go to the neighboring city next week to make up some empty shots.

MC: It is estimated that I will be able to go home soon to appreciate the flowers and plants that Professor Lucien has taken care of!

Lucien stretched his brows, and the smile in his eyes became deeper.

Lucien: Well, they are also looking forward to seeing you.

The neighboring city’s framing plan is based on the theme of "going home from work", for which the on-site director summoned a group of extras.

However, it rained suddenly before the filming started, so we had to buy an umbrella temporarily and distribute it to everyone.

I looked at the monitor and thinking about the moving line. I saw the light of the traffic light blurred in the rain, like a wet oil painting.

Considering that the theme of this reality show happened to be related to painting, my heart moved and decided to change the shooting plan.

MC: Please use an artistic way to express the theme, we will do slow-motion processing.

Think of this block as the background of the painting. You can use the props to simulate the people in the painting.

The actors seemed to be very interested in this suggestion and tried them.

MC: Let's try it first.

The camera moved slowly on the slide, the light slid between the transparent umbrellas, and the crowd moved closer to the camera and dispersed.

I seemed to catch a glimpse of a somewhat familiar figure in an instant, but in a daze, the figure disappeared again.

...How could Lucien be here? I must have saw it wrong

I blinked vigorously, forcing myself to concentrate.

Some of the people in this "painting" singing, some strode across the puddle, and some pulled out a stack of papers from their bags and threw them into the sky.

The night scene oscillated in these chaotic lines, and seemed to be lit by the warm atmosphere.

A piece of A4 paper flicked in front of the camera. After a brief loss of focus, the familiar figure suddenly appeared in the line of sight.

MC: ....?

I refocused, but found that the scene in front of me was not an illusion.

A narrow gap was opened between the crowds, and I saw Lucien holding the umbrella, walking towards me.

He didn't make any movements, but just followed the crowd forward.

The light-colored coat was stained with some rain, which did not weaken his refined temperament at all.

This is the "Professor Lucien" I am most familiar with. He walks in the crowd calmly, as if he just got off work.

The splendor in front of me instantly lost its sound, and my eyes could only follow him closely.

But why is he here, why did he join the group acting team?

Doubts and surprises are intertwined in my heart at the same time, I really want to run to him immediately. However, at present, the only thing I can do is to look up from behind the camera.

It seemed that I had been waiting for a long time, and the moment I looked at him, I looked into his full of emotions-eyes.

In the next second, he took out a familiar lipstick from his pocket, twisted his fingers apart, and slowly started writing on the inside of the umbrella.

Perhaps it was because the people around him were acting in an exaggerated manner, and his movements did not appear abrupt.

I subconsciously stared at his umbrella and slowly pieced together what he had written.

P-A-T-H-O-S, is the word we talked about.

The continuous rain water glides along the umbrella surface as if soaking it.

There is a faint bitterness in my heart, it is the smell of yearning and longing.

After a brief gaze, Lucien passed the equipment and stopped beside me, as if accidentally covering the umbrella over my head.

I came back to my senses and refocused my attention on the shooting until the group actors had all gone.

MC: Cut!

MC: Xiao Fu, tell the actors, just follow the feeling they just did, and take another shot later.

My colleague walked to the side to greet the actors. Seeing the atmosphere loosen, I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face the person behind me.

I took a straight step forward, squeezed his sleeve, and poked his cheek again. Lucien leaned down cooperatively, and let me touch him.

MC: Am I really dreaming...

Lucien: Do you need to check again?

The smiling eyes are so near. As if bewitched by the light, I opened my arms to embrace him.

The faint fragrance of green grass enveloped my breath, and I couldn't help but move closer.

MC: Lucien...

Lucien: Mmhm, It's me.

He was holding an umbrella in one hand, and he held me tightly on my shoulder with the other. I didn't care if there were other people beside me, and buried my face in his arms.

A real touch came from under my palm, and the tips of his hair flicked gently in my ears, itchy.

At this moment, without the barrier of the screen, even if I bury my head in his arms, I can clearly outline his appearance.

Lucien gently patted me on the back. I don't know how long it took before I heard his voice.

Lucien: Is it confirmed now?

MC: Hm.… It is indeed our Professor Lucien who has replaced the actors.

MC: But why are you here?

Lucien: Now I'm here, will it affect your work?

MC: No way, you just provided a super awesome picture.

I remembered the busy work he said before, and subconsciously stroked the back of his hand.

MC: Is your research over?

Lucien: It's just ended today.

MC: Why didn't you take a break first...

MC: It’s a few hours’ drive from Loveland City to here.

Lucien: Compared to the past few months, a few hours is nothing.

Lucien: Besides, someone suggested before that I should give myself a wish to face the problems.

Lucien: Now that the problems have been resolved, I will come to realize this wish.

I looked into his eyes and suddenly understood what his "wish" was that he didn't tell me that day.

MC: But we have to go back to the countryside after the filming today. Is such a short time enough?

Lucien: Not enough.

Lucien: But the moment I saw you, I still thought it was worth it.

Lucien: I just don't know.. Does this suit the "going home" theme required by the big producer?

I looked at his questioning expression, and couldn't help but gently squeezed his face again.

MC: Totally suitable.

MC: Lucien, welcome back.

Part 4 - Memory Silhouette

After a brief reunion, Lucien will return to Loveland City.

After the filming was over, my colleagues took the equipment back first, Lucien and I got on the bus to the station.

There were not many people on the bus at this time. We sat side by side by the window, and the neon lights circling outside the window passed by.

This short reunion still made me a little dazed. I stared at Lucien's reflection on the car window, as if I couldn't see enough.

The bus stopped for one stop, opening and closing the gap between the doors, Lucien turned around, with a helpless smile on the corners of his lips.

Lucien: Suddenly holding it so tightly, are you afraid that I will run away?

He raised our tangled hands, and I realized that I had just accidentally used some strength.

I let go hastily, and reluctantly hooked his finger again.

MC: It's a bit, after all, "sweet dreams" are always too short.

Lucien: If this is your dream, don't worry, it won't slip away easily.

Lucien gently folded his fingers and clasped my fingers.

Lucien: Speaking of it, I'm very curious, why didn't you choose the Loveland City for your shooting this time?

I paused and thought about the words before I spoke.

MC: Loveland City is a bit far away from us, and suitable shooting sites have not been approved for various reasons.

MC: But there is another reason that I don’t want to shoot in Loveland City.

Lucien: Hm?

I paused and thought about the words before I spoke.

MC: At first, everyone was back at their home. If they were in Loveland City, they might not even want to work.

MC: Especially knowing that I'm in the same city as you, I can't help but feel sorrowful.

Lucien smiled and stroked the back of my hand lightly.

MC: But how do I remember that you seem to have sneaked back once halfway through?

MC: Huh?! How did you know..

I looked up at him in surprise, but Lucien smiled and clenched my hand, pulling me closer.

Lucien: When you called me that day, it was in the store, right?

Lucien: There is an activity label on the shelf behind you, and I saw the words Loveland City.

Lucien: Moreover, the call that day was particularly smooth. Normally, your signal in the village should not be so good.

MC: ... Then why didn't you break through me?

Lucien: You look a little shaken, I have been waiting for you to tell me why.

Lucien: But you didn't, and you comforted me in turn.

Lucien: So I guess, at that time, you didn't really want to escape, you were just pissing off, or wanted to calm down, right?

The stop announcement of the bus intervened in our conversation, and after a short stop, we continued to move forward.

The night scene outside the window quickly receded, and only Lucien's smiling eyes stayed on me.

I secretly sighed in my heart. Maybe it is because he always looks at me like this that he can always guess any of my thoughts.

MC: I should have guessed it a long time ago, nothing can be hidden from you...

MC: But thanks to you chatting with me at that time, I didn't really waver.

MC: Knowing that someone was waiting for me to go home, it instantly became full of energy.

Lucien: Silly, you have worked very hard.

Lucien: Compared with the past, you already become stronger and braver.

Lucien: Instead, I need to get strength from you now.

I looked at his slightly frowning eyebrows, and there was a burst of soreness in my heart, and I leaned over to embrace his waist.

MC: Can this give you a strength?

Lucien: Hmm... But maybe you have to hug a little tighter.

MC: You are shameless.

With that said, I moved my body and moved closer to him.

A muffled chuckle came from the top of his head, and the temperature between his arms soon covered his back. I leaned on his shoulder and suddenly thought of something.

MC: By the way Lucien, who told you about the filming location?

Lucien: If I told you, would you blame that person?

MC: Of course, it's not right to disclose the itinerary privately

MC: But criticism belongs to criticism. Since it was revealed to you, I will still personally thank this person

I reluctantly rubbed his chin and buried my face in his shoulder.

I felt Lucien resting lightly on the top of my head, and a slight vibration followed his voice.

Lucien: I'll tell you when your work is all over.

Lucien: Now there are only two weeks left, and we can enter the countdown to go home.

Lucien: I hope that when you see me again, you can still be as happy as you are today.

MC: I will definitely be happier than today.

The bus kept entering and leaving the station, muting our tail sound in the slightly bumpy carriage.

I counting in my mind, there are three stops, two stops, one stop left. I'm going to say goodbye to him again.

However, the rainy season is about to pass.

I think it will be a clear sky on the day of reunion again.

Part 5 - Main Story

The three-month shooting is finally over.

Before the hottest day came, I quickly packed my luggage and returned to Loveland City.

As soon as I got out of the station, I immediately looked around, looking for Lucien's figure.

The moment I dragged the box in the crowd, a familiar call suddenly came from my ear.

??: MC!

I turned my head and saw Lucien standing outside the security line of the station, his eyes gazed deeply on me.

MC: Lucien!

MC: Excuse me, please let me-

I dragged my luggage around the crowd, and ran towards him. Seeing Lucien, I rushing towards him, I simply let go of the luggage and jumped into his arms.

Lucien: .... Be careful.

Lucien warned me like this, but his arm had already hugged me tightly.

Rarely, he didn't lean over to hug me and carried almost all of my weight in his arms. I had to stand on tiptoe so I could barely touch the ground.

There was a slight suffocation in the chest, and none of us willing to let go.

MC: Lucien... I miss you so much.

Lucien: I miss you too.

A low breathing sound came from my ear, Lucien let go of me a little bit, his fingertips slid from the top of my head to my shoulders, followed by his eyes inch by inch.

Lucien: Our big producer seems to be tanned, tired and thin.

MC: Really?

I also raised my hand and stroked Lucien's cheek, rubbing it with affection.

MC: Our Professor Lucien has also lost a lot.

MC: It seems that I have to eat more delicious supplements these days!

Lucien smiled and nodded, and pulled the two luggage behind me.

Lucien: Then let's go home.

MC: Well, this time I really "go home"!

After returning to my home after a long absence, looking at the familiar furnishings, I finally let go of the tension that had been in the past few days.

Tired from the long journey, I quickly changed my clothes, walked into the room and opened the curtains, and at a glance I saw the flowers that Lucien kept on the windowsill.

It is a new variety that has never been seen before, and it is still in full bloom.

Lucien walked up to me and was slightly taken aback at the scene on the balcony.

Lucien: ... It seems to be brighter than I imagine.

MC: Imagine?

[DO YOU WANT ME TO CUT 1 KILOGRAM OF ONIONS??!]

Lucien's eyes flickered. I thought maybe he didn't know much about flower arrangements, so I volunteered to pick up an empty vase.

MC: It’s okay, just a little adjustment.

I picked a few flowers of similar color from a few bunches of flowers, trimmed them briefly, and put them in the empty vase again.

MC: Look, is this better?

Lucien: It looks a lot better.

Lucien: Before, I just followed the maintenance instructions to raise it, but it turned out that it needed to be adjusted like this.

MC: The most important thing is to keep the flowers well, I just add a little ornamental.

Lucien: In order to make flowers and people happy, it is best for us to raise them together.

Lucien: If you raise it next time, can you please help me arrange the flowers?

MC: Of course, it's on me!

I raised my head confidently, Lucien rubbed my hair with a smile.

Lucien: In return, I have a small gift for you.

Lucien turned around, picked up a small box from the coffee table and handed it to me, opened the box and there was a lipstick inside. The authentic rose red reminds me of the handwriting printed on the transparent umbrella on that rainy night.

Lucien: Choosing lipstick for the first time, I don't know if you like it.

MC: It looks so beautiful...Why would you think of buying lipstick?

Lucien: I just think this one should suit you well.

Lucien: Want to try it?

MC: Yes!

I picked up the mirror on the table and was about to turn the mouth red, and suddenly met Lucien's gaze from the mirror.

MC: You, why are you looking at me all the time.

Lucien: Can't I watch it?

MC: Not really, just a little embarrassed...

I turned around while I was talking, only to find that he was still looking at me in good time.

MC: .... Lucien!

He was amused by the way I was bulging. He seemed to think a little bit, and came over to take the mirror from my hand.

Lucien: Sorry, it's been a long time since I looked at you like this, I really don't want to miss any of your expressions.

Lucien: But if you are not used to it, I have a compromise.

Lucien: I'll help you put it on, how about it?

This fresh proposal made my eyes bright, and I quickly turned to face him.

MC: Okay, I won’t miss any of Professor Lucien’s special offer!

MC: But did you even know this...

Lucien: I'm not that good, and I may need you to be a "guinea pig."

Lucien: But I will try to be careful.

MC: It doesn't matter, Professor Lucien's "fault tolerance" here is very high.

Lucien: It seems that this is a special treatment for me.

Lucien: Come, sit by my side.

Lucien took me to sit on the sofa, tucked the hair beside my face behind my ears, and then focused on the lipstick.

He opened the lid skillfully, and squeezed it unnaturally

His gaze rested on my lips for a while, and I opened my mouth slightly in cooperation before he made the first stroke.

The moisturizing paste pushed against the lower lip, Lucien lifted my chin unconsciously, extending the color stroke by stroke.

His movements were very light, I was a little itchy, and was blocked by him, so I couldn't move, so I kept blinking and looking around.

Lucien seemed to have not noticed my struggle, so he put on lipstick slowly and didn't forget to look around, as if admiring his own work.

Lucien: This color really suits you, and looks better than I imagine.

MC: Is it "imagination" again?

Lucien: ,After all, it is a gift for you. Since I bought it, I have been imagining the way you put it on.

Lucien: Now, I can finally see it with my own eyes.

Lucien's fingertips gently rubbed along the edge of my lower lip, as if tracing its shape.

I caught a glimpse of the flowers behind him, and my heart trembled slightly.

I don't know how Lucien faced his longing, maybe it was a short daze interspersed with his busy work, maybe it was a "wish" in my heart...

I didn't deliberately think about it, but I felt that it was like a shadow.

I gently held his face and looked at him seriously.

MC: Lucien, now I am back.

MC: Whatever you think of or what you want me to do, you can tell me directly.

MC: After all, during this time, I have also accumulated a lot of wishes about you...

MC: Just as we "compensate" each other!

Lucien looked at me in silence for a while, and finally raised the corners of his mouth.

Lucien: Since I got my wish just now, now it's your turn.

Lucien: What do you want me to "compensate" for you?

I spread out Lucien's hands, seeing that there was still the lipstick that he had just rubbed off on his fingers.

I suddenly realized that it is precisely because there is no barrier at the moment that we can directly leave marks on each other.

And the long separation that I experienced made me want to be more greedy at this moment, leaving more proof of existence around each other.

I followed my heart to stood up and kissed his lips.

Lucien: ...

The newly applied lipstick rubbed against the corners of his lips, like a small blooming flower, dotted on his fair skin.

This color is really beautiful.

MC: If I want this kind of compensation... is that okay?

Lucien met my gaze, raised his hand and rubbed the corner of his lips, and suddenly laughed.

Lucien: Of course you can.

He hugged me up and let me sit on his lap.

Sunlight spreads on us through the gauze curtain, adding warmth to the narrow distance.

Lucien: I thought before that you might need to adjust to your original life for a while... Lucien: Now it seems that I am the one who has been worrying too much.

I took the lipstick from his hand and made a few letters out of thin air.

MC: Remember the "pathos" we talked about before?

Lucien: Yes, I remember.

MC: Later, I read the book carefully and found that there are actually two kinds of misses described by this word.

Not only do I miss the other person when we are separated, but even if the other person is right in front of me, I still long for him.

MC: So, although we are not in the same place in the past few months...

MC: But to me, I never felt separated from you.

Lucien raised his head slightly and looked at me, his eyes seemed to be filled with shards of light.

Lucien: So, even if I am a little greedy now, is it okay?

MC: It’s okay.

Lucien: I not only want to see unique colors, but I also want to leave colors related to me in it.

Lucien: Is it okay?

He took my shoulders and seemed to draw something on my shoulders with his fingertips.

I lowered my head and looked over. The little red he rubbed with his fingertips just now was drawing another "flower" on my shoulder.

MC: Of course, after all... this color suits me very well.

Lucien stared at me deeply, his gaze slowly sliding from my eyes to my lips.

In the drenched sunlight, he held my face and dropped a feather-like kiss on my lips. The soft touch feels like a kind of gentle comfort, which makes me fall into it bit by bit.

I closed my eyes and felt him pull my chin slightly. I opened my mouth slightly, and his breath quickly swept through my perception.

The jaw was clamped by him, and a slight pain melted into the hot breath, which made the kiss look a little eager.

I put my arms around the back of his neck and responded carefully, the pain quickly dissipated, and he asked for it even more with burning sensation.

The faint scent of rouge faints between the lips, I don't know if it comes from the lipstick on his lips or mine.

The shoulders were gradually clasped by him, and the cold air from the air conditioner came in through his fingers and was warmed by his palm.

Every skin that touches him is conveying pleasant sensations. I keep my eyes closed, but my eyes are full of brilliance.

The wet and rainy season that I have just spent alone is all illuminated by the snuggle at this time.

I don't know how long it took, the temperature on my lips slowly faded, I opened my eyes and saw a mess of rose red on Lucien's lips.

MC: Lucien, the lipstick--

Lucien: It's all spent.

We reached out to each other at the same time, trying to wipe off the fainted lipstick. But no matter how you rub it, it will leave a shallow trace.

We looked at each other in embarrassment and couldn't help laughing together.

MC: What to do.. am I ugly now?

Lucien: No, it's cute.

The eyes of the person in front of me are like water, and the sunlight seems to have washed away the complexities in these eyes, showing a bit of pure satisfaction.

Lucien embraced me again and stroked my hot cheek patiently.

Lucien: Any other wishes?

MC: There are a lot more, I feel I can't finish it for several days.

Lucien: It doesn't matter, I will be with you for many days.

Lucien: Those missing seasons, let us make up for it together

Notes from me: I can’t helped but giggling and crying over this date. The writer really gave us how Lucien’s feelings towards MC. They will loved each other for sure, with any circumstances ahead them. My wish just, please give them a happy moment like flying kite maybe? Anyway, thanks for visiting my blog and always reading Lucien’s date, and give him love~ xoxo

#mlqc cn #mlqc #mlqc lucien #lucien #mlqc translations

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naoyas90dayfiance · 3 years

Text

+18 | Helping a friend | Naoya x Reader

Author's note: this is porn with a plot. hope you like it!

Warning: female reader, blackmail. Naoya receives: handcuffing, ball-gagging, blindfolding, non-con picture taking and sharing. You receive: a friendship badge

Summary: You make Naoya fall into your trap in order to help a friend.

Word count: 3.1k

Reader discretion is advised

"I can shut him up," your friend chuckled at your comment. She got up off the bed, went to her closet, and threw you a pair of metal handcuffs and a black ball gag.

"You'll need that," you eyed the toys up and furrowed your brows.

"What? You can touch them. They're clean."

"How clean?"

"Very clean. Wash them again if you want to or something," she rose her tone.

"Ok, but don't get upset."

"So..." she stretched up the last sound.

"Yes, I'm going to shut his pretty face." You both started laughing, as you took the toys and put them in your purse.

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

You blinked in the dark, your head tried to process the cheerful sound coming from your nightstand. Recognizing it was your phone, you opened your eyes and picked it up to see the name "Naoya Zen'in" lighting up the screen. Before deciding where to swipe, you looked at the time on the top. It was 1.30 AM.

You irked an eyebrow and bit your lip: the game was up. You swiped up, taking his call in, and listened to the other side of the line.

"Hey, sweetheart," his tone was seductive. You could hear the smile on his face.

You remained silent, looking at the ceiling of your room, thinking about how you could possibly put the toys your friend gave you on the future leader of the Zen'in clan.

"Hello?" Naoya asked.

"Hi, baby," you said softly.

"Were you asleep?"

"I was about to, but I saw your call."

"Good girl. What are you wearing?"

"Remember the lace set you gave me for my birthday?" You heard him chuckle.

"Of course I do. Send me a picture."

"I have a better idea," you said

"You do?"

"Why don't you come over here to see what I'm wearing? You know, I've been thinking about you," he didn't respond.

"About what you did to me the other night," you continued. "I get shivers just from remembering it," still no answer. At the silence, you checked the screen: he was still on the line.

"Baby, are you going to make me say..."

"Say it," he interrupted you.

"I want to be your slut again, Naoya."

"What a whore," you heard the sound of keys in the background. "Don't you dare leave me waiting outside your house."

"I'm already at the door, baby," he hung up.

You turned up on your nightstand's lamp, got up from the bed, and beelined to your purse. There they were: a pair of metal handcuffs and a black ball gag. However, there was something missing.

Making your way to your closet, you started to search for a piece of thick fabric. After not too much shuffling, you took out a black tie and a red silk robe you found on the process. You made your way to the nightstand to put the toys and the tie inside the first drawer.

The Zen'in household was far from your home, being a 20 minutes car ride to be exact. It gave you time to make your bed, light up a sandalwood candle and give yourself a short shower to put on some scented lotion all over your body.

When you finished caressing your figure, you slipped into the tiny lace set he gave you. It was a bralette and a thong.

"This guy has no imagination, at least he has a pretty face," you said looking at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the lingering to your body.

As a finishing touch, you decided to put the robe you chose earlier on top. Next, you checked your phone again, making sure to mute the camera app; then you placed it near your lamp.

Giving one final look to your room, you hummed to yourself in satisfaction and made your downstairs to wait for him in the living room.

You sat on the couch, making yourself comfortable. Nevertheless, in a matter of seconds you heard three knocks on the door. You waited for the other knocks. A smile grew wide on your face when ten bangs sounded throughout the house. You walked to the door, put on a straight face, and greeted the person on the other side.

"Let me in," Naoya grabbed you by the shoulder, moving you aside to make his way into your house uninvited.

"Why did you take so long to answer the fucking door?" He got behind you as you were closing the entrance. Without warning, he placed his hand on your neck. "Is this a fucking game to you?" You could feel the pressure building on his grip.

"I was getting our room ready," your voice could be barely heard. He removed his hand from your throat and placed it on your waist, getting his crotch near your ass.

"You smell good," he said. You started to feel how his hot breath caressed your nape. His hands started to caress the sides of your figure, feeling every inch of them with his long fingers.

"I got ready for you," you responded. Closing your eyes, you pressed yourself against his broad and tall figure. Your arms snaked behind him, reaching for his soft hair.

He turned you around, making your hearts beat next to each other. You kept your eyes down. Naoya softly took you by the chin and lifted your face. He lowered himself to kiss your lips.

He moved hands from your waist, to the hips, and to your butt. He grabbed it roughly and started to fondle it, feeling the soft fabric of the robe against your bum. Soon enough, the wet sounds of your tongues playing with each other started to fill the living room. Your hands moved to his strong arms, noticing the flexing of each muscle as he kept kneading your behind. A strong slap on your right asscheek interrupted the kiss.

"Let's go upstairs," you said.

"What if I fuck you here?" He grinned.

"I want to make you feel good, baby."

He lifted you up with your rear in his hands. You hugged his slim and toned waist with your legs. Naoya resumed the kissing. You softly bite his chubby bottom lip while touching his thick neck, and then his well-formed chest. He squeezed your ass and pressed you harder against his now-growing bulge.

As you two got to the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss once again. Naoya moved his hands from your aching bum to your chest, starting to move aside the red neckline to reveal what you were wearing underneath.

He lifted both of his brows to get a good look at the delicious way the tiny fabric was trying to hide your perked nipples. However, the real show was when he looked closely and noticed how painfully small the set was, leaving deep marks around your areola, your breasts seemed squishy.

At the sight, he started to grope them roughly, getting his mouth near your left tit. He bit the mushy skin until his teeth were tattooed on it. Then, he started to lick and suck your stiff nipple over the fabric. You moaned softly, which encouraged him to go to your other boob, repeating the process and leaving you with bruises. His tongue kept drawing wet circles until he was proud of how shiny the fabric looked.

When he finished his work on your bosom, he went to your neck and started suck harshly the skin; you could feel his teeth mistreating the thin skin. To even things up, your hands went to the waistline of his sweatpants. At your action, his touching stopped abruptly. You looked at him puzzled.

"Get on your knees now," you followed his command. His face lit up.

"I've trained you well, haven't I?" He said. Your hands were lowering his pants and boxers, freeing his half-hard dick; you had to hold back a smile when you saw precum already coating the top. You took him in your hands, giving up-and-down strokes to his thick shaft.

"Yes, baby," you said. His cock twitched.

Naoya put his hand on your hair, petting it lightly, asking you through his touch to take him into your mouth, and so you did. Starting with kitty licks on the head, creating a line of saliva and precum that connects his red mushroom head with your hot mouth. The Zen'in could only hiss at the sight, his touch grew desperate.

Hearing his reaction made you put half of his blood-filled cock in your mouth, moving your head back and forth; making sure the outline of it was visible through your cheek. As the bobbing continued, you placed a hand on his balls, caressing them harshly, gaining a loud moan from him.

He took you by the back of your head, pushing your face to his green bush, getting you to take more of him into your wet hole. He left out a groan as you hummed around it. Naoya started to push your mouth even further, wanting to see how much you could take of his full-grown erection. Your senses became clouded for the salty smell of his arousal was going through your nose.

Feeling his movements getting faster and deeper, you slapped his hand away. Naoya stared at you with his eyes widened, unable to react to your sudden movements. You took his confusion to your advantage and climbed on top of him, pressing his shoulders to the bed, laying him down.

You placed his hands above his head and kissed him deeply, caressing the inside of his mouth with your precum-covered tongue. The blonde followed your pace; enjoying how you began rubbing your hips on top of him. Naoya focused on how the plushy lips of your pussy and the sticky lace felt on his cock. But his pride got in the way.

In a flash, he pinned you to the bed, looking at your face trying to get answers for your surprising behavior. What he got to see was a teary face and your half-open lips shining with both of your saliva.

"What is it baby?" You asked. Naoya removed himself from you and sat on the bed, his head was low.

"Shit," you thought to yourself. Slowly, you started to touch his toned back, seeing his muscle tense up underneath his black shirt.

"Baby, you know what we do here is private. If you're upset about what I did, I'm sorry, I just got too caught up in the moment. You're my king and the one who drives me crazy," you crawled to his lap, placing your legs first, embracing him. Your hands caressed his cheek. He looked at you. You put your lips on top of his, moved your hands to his hips and played with the blazing heat of his dick.

You moved your abused mouth to his neck, your hands now on his balls and cock. Naoya drew his head back, not believing the amount of pleasure he was feeling. You didn't hesitate to make your next move.

"Baby," your hands moved to his abdomen, scratching his six hard and defined muscles, "I want to pleasure you like never before. I want to try something new with you."

"What?" He managed to say too low for his own liking. You sensed he was coming back to his right mind, but decided to not let that happen.

"Kimi, Toji's girlfriend, shared with me a secret. She said he loved it, and I want to try it," he closed his eyes and moved his head to the side. You hear how difficult his breathing was, your hands hadn't stopped playing with his sack, making his dick pulse near your crotch.

"I want all of your cum," you said. His eyes opened in shock. This was your chance.

"Lay down, baby, I will take care of you," he followed your command.

Moving your hands quickly, you took the handcuffs out of the drawers, Naoya stared at the item without blinking.

"Trust me," you said putting the toy between your legs, his eyes moved from the object to your swelling pussy. He relaxed against the bed, but you could see how his Adam's apple gulped. In a quick but steady manner, you put the wire between the headboard's poles.

Naoya kept his eyes on your body, not remembering when the robe was discarded from your body. His thoughts were interrupted when you lowered your figure, facing him. You could feel his fiery breath on your face, almost burning you. You placed small pecks on his lips, which he returned eagerly. Your hands went to his neckline, and passed them through his shapely shoulders and arms until you got to his hands, interwinding your fingers with his.

With all the care of the world, you placed his arms above his head. Suddenly, both of you heard two click sounds: he was restrained. You fixed your position so your clothed cunt was hugging his painfully hard cock.

You grinded with back-and-forth movements against him. He started to groan, intoxicated at the velvet texture caressing his ridge. The sinful smell of sex and sandalwood clouding his mind; it was too much for the sex-deprived Zen'in clan member.

You touched his face, making him open his eyes and look at your face; but then, his eyes travelled to the place where your cunt was slowly feeling him. He could feel the tension building up in his body.

You took your bralette off, placing it right next to his face. Naoya changed his focus to your chest, being only able to see the beautiful mounts he had in front of him, making him ooze more white liquid that fell beautifully on his abdomen.

You noticed right away and took some of it with your finger, licking it seductively while looking at him directly in the eye. He could only give out quiet moans. You could see his face growing red. Naoya threw his head back and tensed his muscles, enjoying the feeling you were giving him.

He opened his eyes again when he felt your weight shifting, this time a black ball was in your hands. He looked at it closely.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's part of the game, Naoya, baby. It's for you to not bite your tongue out of the pleasure," he narrowed his eyes.

"Trust me, if not you're not feeling good I will stop immediately, I will follow your commands," his gaze lingered in your face, but seeing you so pretty made him lay back on the pillow, closing his eyes once again.

You tied the toy behind his neck, put a hand on his cheek to get his mouth to open slightly, and then you placed the gag on him.

You lifted yourself up to untie the simple knot that kept the sides of your panties together. At the loss of friction Naoya started to struggle against his handcuff, looking at you directly in the eye, clearly upset.

You removed your panties and threw them away. You placed your left hand on his chest. He saw how your other hand aligned his swollen cock against the entrance of your dripping pussy.

He stopped his struggle after he felt the head of his cock being swallowed by your tight cunt, the erotic hug almost made him cum right away, but he started to breathe deeply to calm himself down.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you lower yourself, getting through his fat mushroom tip, moving towards the thick shaft until you were fully stuffed by his cock. Quickly, you started to hop on top of him, making sure to add waves of extra pressure by contracting your ass; his breath became erratic.

Naoya softly opened his eyes, directing them immediately at your bouncing breasts, watching how your nipples played in front of him, teasing him almost. As you moved sensually on top of his cock, you sensed him getting bigger and twitching inside you, so you decided to stop. You calmed down and looked at him.

"You deserve more than this, baby. You deserve it after all your hard work," Naoya's mouth opened when his cock left your hot pussy, the way it caressed his ridge almost had him releasing his cum on his abs.

He was too puzzled to understand what you had in your hands.

You placed the piece of fabric over his eyes, tying it behind his head. He didn't like the thought of not looking at you. However, at how events were playing, he wanted to know what you were about to do next. Little he knew that at that moment a photo was being taken.

After everything went dark for him, Naoya felt your soft lips and tongue going from his broad neck to his hard nipples, your tongue playing with them in circles while your hands started to caress his heavy sack again. He arched his back slightly. You could have sworn you sensed whimpers coming from him. Your lips moved to his belly, biting and licking each separate abdominal muscle.

"You're so sexy," you said. He tried to chuckle, but the ball gag didn't let him.

Your caresses stopped, leaving the young man waiting for your next move. He exhaled roughly when he felt your velvety insides wrapping up his dick. You started to bounce, making your ass slap loudly against his thighs. Your moans filled the room. Naoya could only curl his toes at the rushed movements.

You leaned towards his shoulders, using them as support. You changed the pace, harshly thrusting his dick into your soaked cunt, the squeaking sound of the bed amplified. His hot cock twitched against your walls, caressing your sweet spot deliciously.

After a few more thrusts, you felt your belly spamming. Naoya felt your pussy pulsing, milking him. The future leader couldn't help himself but release loads and loads of his thick cum inside you, clenching his hands and holding his breath.

Naoya’s body gave up and laid still on the bed. You took note of his behavior, so you removed the blindfold and the ball gag.

You were greeted by a sleepy man with his eyes closed, his breath returning to normal. Without losing much time, you also undid his handcuff.

Naoya put his arms down. You removed yourself from the top of him, managing to lie beside his figure. The room remained silent for a few hours.

Before the sun rose Naoya got himself off your bed, went to take a shower in your bathroom, got dressed, and left your place. You remained in bed with eyes closed, but noticing each of his movements.

When you heard the engine of his car starting, you reached out for your phone on the nightstand, opening your messaging app and sending the photo. Suddenly, a notification popped up:

"That could work as blackmail," Mai said.

"You're welcome, bestie," you replied and slept with a wide smile on your face.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin #zenin naoya #stories of a concubine

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blueknightdg · 3 years

Text

Consideration and Generosity

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

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noire, DCU

Characters: Marinette, Damian

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She sat on a park bench that day; the weather was hot yet, cloudy.

Despite the uncomfortable sweat clinging to her being and the buzzing noise of her surroundings, she smiled happily. She would do anything for inspiration, even endure the blistering feeling of the sun.

Soon enough it has been hours since she began to sketch and draw designs for clothing she wishes to make true.

She feels her head is off, so she takes a break to answer a text from her mother.

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(Mom) Marinette, are you still at the park? It's been five hours.

(Me) Yep! Just taking a break.

(Mom) Just now? It's really hot outside, have you eaten? What about water?

(Me) Don't worry! I'm fine! I stayed in the shade the whole time.

(Mom) Okay, but I want a picture of you eating.

(Me) Okay, I will. I love you!

(Mom) I love you too.

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

Marinette, packs her sketch books and other materials a way in her bag. She stands up, only to tip over onto someone walking past her.

"Hey, you-"

The person stops to keep her from falling all the way down.

"Uh... I'm sorry, I guess I should have taken a break earlier."

She tries to break a way from the strangers grip. They let her go easily. They began to walk a little further a way with a eye in her direction. She sits down again to collect herself. She takes a few breaths and thinks about how to get up without falling and embarrassing herself.

"I wish I packed a water bottle or something, I knew it was hot but I thought I would be fine....", she thought to herself.

She checked her bag in case she just forgot. Lo and behold there was a water bottle in one of the outside pockets.

"Huh....? That's strange, I was sure I......oh well.", she shrugged it off as her forgetting.

Feeling a little better, she carefully stood up. Having not fallen, she smiled and picked up her full bag. She walks in the direction of a small restaurant to eat, since she wouldn't make it home before hunger got to her.

She walked like she wasn't being followed. Casual and slow, she took in the buildings a round her. The same as her memories told her, but still just as beautiful.

Once she got to an empty table, she sat her bag down in front of her. The waitress walks up to her with a smile.

"Hello! Here is the menu, please take your time. Though I do suggest today's special! Mushroom soup with broccoli, carrots, and rice."

"Thank you."

"No problem!"

The waitress leaves her be and she focuses on the menu. It seems that this restaurant is all about healthy living.

She hums to herself as she thinks of her order. However, everything sounded wonderful and she couldn't decide. Then she heard a waitress bring someone's order of a tofu and veggie stuffed bell peppers with a side salad. So she looked over to see the meal and found that it looked delicious. She also saw they ordered tomato juice.

Looking at the menu one more time, she located the meal, drink and picked out a dessert on her own.

As soon as she put her menu down, the waitress came up to her with her pen and notepad out.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, I would like the Tofu and Veggie stuffed Bell peppers with a side salad, tomato juice, and the vanilla, soy bean ice cream."

"Would you like a topping?"

"Yes, let's see....oh! The coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle."

"To repeat: Tofu, veggie stuff bell peppers, side salad, tomato juice, vanilla soy bean ice cream with coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we will right on it!"

Marinette took out her phone as she waited. She texted her mom, that she was at a restaurant nearby. Her mom reminded her to send a picture of her eating.

A few minutes later and her food was brought to her.

"Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, dear, tell me if you need anything!"

The waitress leaves to let her eat. She sends a picture of her food to her mom, who responded with the words 'smile and heart'.

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Change perspective

--------

His day was normal. He woke up and dealt with the hooligans that plagued his life. He was currently in Paris as a part of a stake out group. His family dispersed during day to do individual actives. His father wanted him near by, but he argued that he didn't need to be monitored.

His father conceded by saying he must practice being considerate of other people and to update him on how it is going and if he needs help. He was more than reluctant to agree. Regardless, he did.

He didn't like the loose nature of his apparel for the day, but had no chouce due to the heat.

Though by no means is his clothing loose in comparison to others definition. He prefers to be dignified at all times.

Most of the day, he had nothing report to his father that was particularly considerate until he notice the ragged look of a girl a round his age. She looked dehydrated and ill. He scoffs at her lack of self preservation until he notice she was immersed in some kind of sketching. He also remembered his has to be 'considerate' today so he will say she was lost to passion. After all, this is Paris, the city known for passion.

He watches her as she unconsciously squints and makes a grim expression at times. She sways ever so slightly.

In his observations, she stopped her work to look at her phone. Her condition is not well. He walks a little closer with a water bottle he bought. The moment he walked next to her and she stood, he stabilized her and slipped the water bottle in her bag as she spoke, trying to clear her head. She was drenched in sweat.

"Father better be grateful, I am being more than generous with being 'considerate', disgusting.", he thought with distain.

He hurried a way from her only to stop a short distance a way to watch her more and to sanitize his hands; to rid himself of the horrid feeling of her sweat.

The girl swayed less than before, but after updating his father of what happened, he was ordered to tail her. What if she collapsed? His efforts would have been in vain if that was so.

He was slightly frustrated and her slow pace did nothing to help. He only felt a bit better at her choice of eatery. He saw that she was heading for a Healthy Living Restaurant and went a head of her to sit down. He typed to his father that the girl was trying to decide what to eat. He was instructed to do what he thought best if he were to interfere at all. So he picked the most sensible option for her condition, in return, she followed and added something to her order.

He ate quietly and finished before her. He then left a large tip; the service was quick, the food palatable, atmosphere was pleasant and he doubted the girl had much on her. Enough to pay perhaps, but she would then be left with nothing else.

She seemed to be middle class, and the middle class does not make much little wealth, to him at least. Sure, her clothing was quite good with quality, but her manners weren't all that remarkable and nothing else about her was either.

Polite, is what she was. Quiet, unnoticeable, and polite.

To him, she was a foolish girl that dreamed too much and did little for her own well-being. Truly the epitome of moronic whelps.

After he left the restaurant, he watched from a distance. Through the window, he saw her tempt to pay, only to be denied. He smirked, perhaps he should visit this particular restaurant again and maybe even invest a bit?

He felt his phone buzz, his father typed, wanting to be updating on the status of the girl. It became apparent that some of the hooligans are now aware of his sudden punish- mission. Yes, this is a mission.

Protecting such weak plebeians is the duty of his father and him, also the unsightly hooligans- not well in his opinion- but he shall add them this once.

"Father is surely proud of how 'considerate' and 'generous' I am.", he believes, "Excessively so."

------

The day ends with Marinette safely returning home and the still mysterious young man facing his mismatched family.

The young man remained considerate as he ignored the jeers of the hooligans until he realized, he didn't have to any more and retorted as though his words came from the high heavens.

---------

The next time he checked in on the young lady, he had some knowledge of her background he shouldn't and decided to continue to see to it that she is well taken care.

"It's called being an arrogant, egotistical xsshxle with a God complex. She doesn't need your 'consideration', she is not a charity case!"

One loud problem claimed as he tuned him out.

---------

The young man did visit the restaurant once more and she was there. She would visit often and order the same thing as he had the first time. There were times she ordered something else and he would try things she experimented with, minus the meat.

She ordered meat less and less the more she came to the restaurant, he noticed. He had no clue why, since she obviously had no problem eating it.

He didn't order sweets as often as she did, but he would on occasion, get something with a little bit of sweetness to it; like the dried fruit sandwich with any type of sauce it can come with. The sandwich had fresh, and air dried fruit. There would be other ingredients and such to change the flavor of the sandwich, making it a popular item on the menu.

------

Change Perspective

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She felt like she has seen the same guy a lot over the past two months and is slightly worried. After some thought to it and the more she believed she was over thinking it and that it was pure coincidence. She did know, however, he had good taste in food and art. Plus that animals are so cute!! He couldn't be all bad if animals liked him.

She would walk a little closer and sometimes walk a little farther from him and since he never moved, she felt better. It really was a coincidence to her knowledge.

Eventually, she would would stop seeing him. He was a tourist, so of course he would leave at some point. Still, she was a little sad.

Oh well, school is starting soon, maybe she'll make friends to fill the loneliness her pretend friend left her.

She liked to pretend this stranger was her friends and that they hung out, since she saw him in most places that she was. She saw him at the restaurant and sometimes the park and rarely he would be at the museum. Technically he wasn't everywhere and not as frequent as she made it seem like he was, but if was often enough to remember him.

"You should have talked to him, get his number."

"But then he might have thought I was hitting on him! I just wanted a friend..."

"Sweetie, look on bright side! Either you can cherish memories that made you happy or you can forget him and move on. You don't know what life has in-store for you, it could be fun!"

"Thank you, mom. You too dad, I will see what happens."

"On that note, want help me frost some cakes?"

"Yes!!!"

-----

The end.

#marinette #au #maribat #damian #daminette

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