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meiieiri · 1 month

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𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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heartfullofleeches · 6 months

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Realizing Loser Reader is ghost bait after all the fics/blurbs of them with hot ghost ladies. Buying Loser Reader a shirt that reads - "Ghost Women want me, living women cross the street when I walk by."

Ghost Hunter 1: Why the fuck do we keep inviting them to stack outs? All they do is complain and run off whenever there's danger. Usually straight into it.

Ghost Hunter 2: I don't know why, but all the ghosts we've come across so far have been attracted to them... like, intimate and probably romantic attraction. Watch the cameras.

[Loser Reader screams bloody murder as a shadowy figure slams their companion's face into the concrete. It turns to face them as the body hits the floor with a wet thud]

Loser Reader: please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me-

[The figure steps into the moonlight to reveal the ghost of a busty woman - a black void where her face once was]

Loser Reader: damn...... you are... hot... you take final requests?

Yan Ghost Lady: ....

Yan Ghost Lady: <3

Ghost Hunter 1: Oh god.... turn off the cameras. TURN OFF THE FUCKING CAMERAS!

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere ghost #female yandere

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irisintheafterglow · 6 months

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if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom

summary: the strawhats are summoned back to baratie so sanji can cook for a high-class diner. they can't figure out why zoro is so nervous. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food and eating, established relationship, pet names (sweetheart, doll, lover, pretty), spoilers if you squint, sanji being himself and zoro having absolutely none of it

note: this was requested by an anon a few weeks ago and i finally got around to writing it!! every time i write for zoro, i have a new favorite fic i've made because he's just so fun to write for. hope you enjoy!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“You know, they’re a lot hotter in person.”

“Shut your mouth, waiter, or I’ll skewer it closed,” he mutters with palpable distaste. Another swig of rum burns down his throat and, for the first time that the crew can remember, Zoro seemed nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but they’d sailed long enough to know that he never stopped surveying a room for threats, no matter how familiar he was with it. Today, though, the only thing that took his attention was the rim of his glass and he was subtly avoiding the eyes of the crew’s target. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.”

“Thank you for your input, Zoro. I will, however, be belaying it,” his captain replies brightly, unfazed by the blank expression of his first mate. The uneasy faces of his crew only makes him beam more, giddily excited for the anticipated challenge. “C’mon, guys. We’ll be fine. They just need to see how awesome we are and they’ll totally give us a new sail!”

“Loud, loud, too loud,” Zoro warns in response to the increasing volume of Luffy’s voice. They were already causing enough of a scene, as is, and he damn sure didn’t want other guests looking in their direction. To make matters worse, the amount of alcohol in the table’s bottle was dwindling too quickly for comfort.

“Hey, if we’re lucky,” Usopp offers, “we might just get a whole ship. You know, maybe one that Captain Usopp can command as the second ship in the Straw Hat fleet.”

“You think we’ll get a whole fleet?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe, we can all captain our own ships–”

“Alright, let’s get our heads out of the clouds,” Nami cuts in. “We still need to figure out how we’re going to get over there, in the first place. And just for the record, I’m with Zoro on this one.”

“First time for everything,” he deadpans. She smartly elects to ignore his sarcasm and continues to argue why the plan is a bad idea. The call from Zeff came at an opportune time and during an unfortunate situation when the Merry sailed straight into a torrential thunderstorm that ripped the main sail clean down the middle. Despite their best efforts to patch it up, it was beyond repair; with the Marines constantly on their tail, having a working sail was a matter of survival. Zeff’s reluctant summons for Sanji to cook for a special guest provided a means to buy a new sail and have a little extra spending money. But, in his wildest dreams, Zoro could not have predicted that the special guest was you. The smug look on the chef’s face snaps him out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, waiter?”

“Shouldn’t you be downing the rest of this bottle, drunk?”

“I’ll smash this damn bottle on your head, I swear–”

“No, no. Zoro has a point,” Luffy agrees. Sanji gives him an odd look and he quickly realizes what his statement insinuated. “Not about smashing the bottle on your head. We need you to bring them your food so then I can go over and talk with them.”

“You don’t think I can charm them on my own?”

“Don’t look so aghast, blondie,” Zoro answers and receives a knife-sharp glare in response. “This is not someone who will entertain your theatrics.”

“How would you know anything about them, hmm? I believe you’re a little too dead inside for their liking,” Sanji baits and Zoro’s on the verge of biting before Nami steps in again.

“Sanji, get in the kitchen. Let’s just get the money and get out of here.” Zoro silently thanks her in his head for effectively ridding the chef of the table for the time being. His gratitude turns into a grimace when she turns to him expectantly. “You’re gonna hate me for asking–”

“Then don’t ask,” he finishes. She doesn’t relent.

“How do you know them? It seems like you’re nervous about being here, but we’ve never met them before as a crew.” Hitting the damn nail on the head. “So, you must’ve met them when you were still hunting down pirates. Am I right?” He grumbles an unreadable response, but the slightly pink shade of his face tells the table everything they need to know. “You’re terrible at covering up secrets.”

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Ah, you’ve got him on the run, now. He’s deflecting,” Usopp chuckles, immediately shutting up when Zoro shoots him a deadly scowl. He hated that all of them were right and would never admit it to save his life. After all this time, seeing you still made his heart rate skyrocket and cause his hands to clam up with boyish nervousness. You were just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, instances that were too few and far between for his own liking. Your father would have a fit if he saw you in such an unregulated environment as Baratie, but he knew that you were safe. As long as you breathed the same oxygen, he vowed no harm would come to you.

“I met them when I first started hunting,” he admits and the words felt wrong on his tongue. Every nerve in his body was telling him to stop revealing his relationship to you. It didn’t matter if he’d almost died surrounded by his crew; his connection to you was sacred and something he was going to take to his grave. It was mostly for your safety, the late-night sneaking out and stolen displays of affection. In another life, he wouldn’t have to hide you from other hunters that wanted to see him fall. “Their father is a captain in the Marines. When I first met them, they were training with Mihawk. Their father wanted them to be the most feared Marine in the seas.” The jaws of his friends fell to the table and he knew how wild it sounded, a legacy Marine trained by a pirate lord. “But, Mihawk taught them more tricks than just swordfighting and their father fired him on the spot.”

“He taught them sympathy for pirates,” Nami concludes and he nods. “Why are you so shifty around them?” He shrugs half-heartedly and tries to make it look like his face wasn’t on fire.

“Just haven’t seen them in a while,” he states, zeroing in on the blonde asshole waltzing to you with a plate. Your surrounding guards stiffen, hands flying to the weapons at their belts. You, however, roll your eyes and tell them to stand down. He knew you hated going out with security because they were always watching, watching, watching. “Eyes up. The waiter’s making a move.”

A strange sense of nausea washes over him as he watches you smile politely at Sanji, laughing softly at his jokes and kindly nodding as he explains the dish to you. You trust them, Zoro keeps telling himself. That waiter doesn’t stand a fucking chance. All the reassurances don’t stop his gut from churning when Sanji does his signature lean-down-and-whisper-suggestively into your ear. To his surprise, however, you don’t immediately meet the chef’s eyes. Your attention flicks to Zoro, instead, with a look that he knows all too well.

Please get me out of this.

Despite the protests of the table, he’s standing in an instant and walking with his hands on his swords like your guards didn’t even exist. His sight becomes tunnel-vision on nothing but you and he bypasses your guards with ease. Your shoulders relax when he stations himself protectively behind you, much to the confusion of the chef in front of you. As subtle as he can, he rests his hand on the back of your chair, inching closer until he’s just barely touching your shoulder. It’s small, but speaks wonders for his presence.

“Zoro,” you murmur without looking up, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Your touch on his skin after so much time away feels electric.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sanji stiffens at the term of endearment so easily leaving Zoro’s mouth and you can sense the boost it does for his ego. “Whatcha got there?”

“My new friend was just telling me about the dish he made. He said he crafted it especially for me, with his own hands,” you inform him with a sly sparkle in your eye. His jaw clenches unconsciously. You knew exactly what was going on in Zoro’s mind and he knew it, too. “Apparently, he can work wonders with his hands,” you remark casually and you can hear the chair crack under the force of the swordsman’s hand gripping it. To your delight, Sanji’s face has also taken on a slightly darker shade of red at how crassly you echo his suggestion. And in front of his rival, no less.

“Was he, now?” His tone is lethal and it sends goosebumps up your arms. “Well, it best be time for him to get back in the kitchen, no?”

“Mmm, but he said he had a proposal for me–”

“I had one for you too, though I did ask you in a much finer establishment than this one.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads on your face and you have to look to the side to keep from laughing aloud. Zoro’s jealousy was rearing a very indignant head; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a little hot. “Got that stone on your left hand to prove it.” Sanji’s eyes darted to the band wrapped around your finger, a ring that looked suspiciously like the one hanging from a chain around Zoro’s neck. “Give us some time alone, yeah?” His question becomes rhetorical as he pulls out a chair next to you and tugs your seat closer until you can cross your leg across his. His palm rests possessively over your thigh and the chef gapes for a few moments more before turning back to the kitchen.

“That goes for all of you, please,” you order your guards without looking at them, absentmindedly tracing Zoro’s jawline with the back of your pointer finger. “Take my bag and buy however many drinks you want. I’m safe,” you state with absolute certainty. Once they’re gone, all you see, feel, and know is him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile just as softly. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“I can ask you the same question, pretty.” His eyes shine with nothing but adoration. You forgot just how much you missed him.

“Took a detour to prolong my time at sea. I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Your old man’s being an ass again?”

“You know how he is,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, that blonde shithead is my crewmate. We’re here to get some extra Berry for a new sail.”

“Sail, hmm? I always knew you had a little pirate in you,” you tease and he sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Heard you fought my esteemed mentor. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“I don’t think I can fathom what will happen if you don’t,” you say quietly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, okay?”

“You’re acting as if I’m already leaving you again.”

“Aren’t you?” Your smile is sad and it makes his chest ache. When he beat Mihawk and killed your bastard father, he was going to give you the life that you deserved.

“Not yet,” he promises. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

“I don’t want you to go, either. How much do you need for that sail?” He gives you a number and you don’t even blink. You just nod and reach into your coin purse, fishing around and deciding to just give him the entire pouch. “Will that cover it?”

“Doll–”

“It’s a yes or no question, husband,” you say with lighthearted sternness. He shakes his head in exasperation but can’t hide the grin painting his features.

“Yes, lover. It’s more than enough.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum in contentment. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. D’you mind introducing me to the rest of your crew besides the flirty waiter?”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n #zoro fluff #opla fluff #ask iris!#one piece x y/n

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multifandomlover01 · 4 days

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Not Technically Mine…But Still Unequivocally Mine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (not AFAB specific)

WC: ~2.9k

Warnings: reader is undercover bait, very scummy suspect, very uncomfy situation and dialogue, touching, Spencer is concerned for her safety, biological male reaction mention, strangulation mention but not depicted, the b word is used to describe the reader, he spits on her too

Summary: (based off a post by @hereforhalstead and fic semi-requested by @ribbongrll) Reader has to go undercover as bait to lure in a suspect, and Spencer is not happy about it. He’s very protective and almost caused the mission to not be completed

Note: I envisioned post prison Spencer for this so it’s like S13-15 (JJ and Luke are in here), also third person and idk what’s happening with the tenses. Also a bit repetitive? Bit annoying?

Spencer absolutely fucking hated it whenever he had to be in a club or a bar for a case. It didn’t matter how much time he had to spend in the building. He got anxious and overstimulated very quickly. The only thing that made it worse was when some guy flirted with his equally as anxious female coworker (who was also his best friend who he was also in love with). Every time a guy would flirt with her while she just stood there, uncomfortable and silent, his heart broke. He’d glare at the guy and if he still didn’t take that hint, say something. Luckily, this usually took care of any further interaction.

Apparently the only thing worse than some guy flirting with his best friend/crush was her being bait for a suspect. She was his exact type, physically speaking and personality wise. Spencer almost immediately objected when he saw the form fitting and revealing dress that JJ had helped her pick out. But he doubted he’d be able to convince Prentiss and Rossi to ditch the plan. It was the best one they had. At least Spencer got to go undercover with her as her date…although he didn’t know if this actually would make the situation better or worse.

He didn’t even notice that his hand was brushing against hers the whole ride. He also didn’t notice that he was sweating a little bit.

“You’d better not do that in the club…you’ll give us away.” She teases and he doesn’t know what she’s talking about until he is suddenly physically aware of the perspiration.

He chuckles. “I won’t. Don’t worry.” He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs his face and neck.

They arrive at the club. He gets out of the vehicle and helps her out. He suppressed a groan when she tugs on her dress to futilely get it to cover more of her thighs. He gingerly grasps her hand and leads her inside.

“Remember…be your shy sweet self but not too reserved and reluctant because we need-”

“The suspect outside, yes, I know, Spence. We’ll be ok.” She chuckles as she looks at him.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He frowns.

“You think I want to get hurt.” She furrows her eyebrows.

“Of course not.” He shakes his head, smiling some. “But it’s my job to protect you and…I don’t wanna fail.”

“I have to let him get me outside, isolated and alone so that JJ and Luke can apprehend him. You can’t protect me once I’m on my own with him.” She states what he was trying not to think about. She was right, though, of course.

“Just…be careful, ok?” He squeezed her hand.

“I will, don’t worry.” She squeezed his back. “Hey, I’ve done better for longer on my field training that you have, remember?”

“I remember when you had to help me pass my test to still be qualified to carry a gun and be in the field.”

“And now you don’t even need my help. You’ve gotten better and I’m proud of you. There’s always room for improvement…even for me. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Spencer still wasn’t sure about this whole situation as they took a seat at the bar at the club. There was only one seat available. Spencer thought about letting her take it as the lady while he stood but then an idea he liked struck him. He sat down on the bar stool, took a hold of her waist and hoisted her up into his lap. He held her tightly to him as he had his arms wrapped around her waist.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, slightly confused by his behavior.

“I’m your date. I’m being…friendly.”

“That’s not why.” She huffs slightly.

“Alright…I’m protecting you, then.” His breath tickles her ear.

“Do I have to be in your lap?”

“I would say that…yes, you do.” He said rather definitively.

They ordered drinks (he made sure to order her a virgin cocktail so she had no actual alcohol in her system, not only was this regulation for an undercover agent, but he knew the last thing he wanted was for her cognition to not be at 100%). They sipped their drinks as she remained in his lap.

Spencer remained vigilant to his surroundings when she had to be more subtle about it to maintain her “oblivious” undercover role. He was grateful that it made sense for a girl’s date to want to ward off any potential girl stealers. He was not so grateful that the suspect did not care about that (even if the whole point of being bait and undercover as a couple was to lure him in to apprehend him).

It didn’t escape her notice that he’d tighten his grip around her whenever any guy got particularly physically close to her for whatever reason (even if it was as innocuous as standing beside her at the bar to order drinks) even if they didn’t even glance at her, let alone talk to her.

“You can relax some, you know. The suspect is going to be much bolder. You don’t have to spike your poor heart rate over every little thing.”

“I care about you. I won’t have you getting hurt.”

“We went over this. I’m perfectly capable of-”

“I know, I know you are, ok? It’s not…it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s-”

“Excuse me…” An overly charming and soft voice says, cutting Spencer off.

Their eyes immediately flit over to the man that had suddenly appeared. Spencer’s blood runs cold when he realizes that this is the man that matches the descriptions that the bartenders and patrons had given.

Spencer tenses, gripping her hips tightly as he holds her to him.

“I was just at that table over there and couldn’t help notice this…vision of loveliness right here.” He smiles as his hand rests on her knee. She cringes. Spencer’s blood boils.

“Don’t touch her.” He says in a dangerously low tone.

“Oh come on…I’m not gonna hurt the little lady. I’m merely…admiring her.” He steps ever so closer.

“Back off.” Spencer says, or rather…he grits it out. His grip on her hips tightens and she’s starting to wonder if they’ll bruise if he grips any tighter or if he does so for long.

“Oh come on…don’t be such a hard ass. What do you say, darling? How’s about…you and I…ditch this guy and I’ll show you a real good time.” Spencer wishes he could punch that stupid smirk off his face and break his hand as it slides further up her thigh. She’s squirming in his lap, pressing back into him (which doesn’t help another situation).

“You won’t. She’s clearly uncomfortable. You should take a hint and piss off.”

While she is in actuality very uncomfortable around this man, she knows she needs to get him outside.

“Well I…” She forces herself to scoot a bit off of Spencer’s lap and closer to the man. Spencer doesn’t loosen the grip on her hips and pulls her back against him.

“See? The lady here does seem interested.” His smirk hasn’t disappeared as his fingers are now at the hem of her dress.

Spencer has to fight between his instinct to get her as far away from this man as possible and his recognition of the mission. He just glares at the man. Reluctantly, he keeps his mouth shut.

“That’s it…listen to your girl here. Come on, honey. He seems like a real fun guy but…I promise to show you a night you’ll never forget. You’ll feel things you’ve never felt before.”

She scoots off Spencer’s lap a bit and he reluctantly loosens his grip. The man wastes no time sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. She lets him lead her away. Spencer’s knuckles turn white against the bar counter as he sees the bastard caress her and then sees his hand move lower and squeeze her ass.

He just prays that she can keep herself safe with her training. She couldn’t wear a wire or anything. But he had one to inform JJ and Luke that they were on their way out to them. All he had to do was wait. He heard the confirmation that they’d made it outside and had been spotted by the agents placed there in the alley.

“Guys…tell me what’s going on.” Spencer murmurs into the mic.

“She’s fine. Just sit tight, Spence.” JJ tries to calm him down. It doesn’t work.

“Don’t tell me to just sit tight, JJ. I…I can’t just sit tight knowing she’s out there with that monster. You’ve got eyes on her. Please tell me she’s ok.” Spencer says pleadingly.

“She’s handling herself, man, ok? She’s capable.” Luke now tries to assuage Spencer’s fears. This also is not successful.

“That’s also not what I asked, Luke.”

Spencer hears Luke sigh. “He’s got her up against the alley wall, ok?”

“Well what’s he doing to her?”

“Spence-”

“What’s he doing?” Spencer insisted.

“Well he’s…fondling her…kissing her neck.”

“Jesus Christ…when are you guys gonna apprehend him? What if he hurts her?” Spencer is starting to get very concerned.

“We have to wait.”

“For what?! For him to strangle her?!”

“We need to wait until there is probable cause for an arrest. She’ll fend him off and he’ll push too far.”

“But how far? Does her dress have to be ripped? Does she have to be humiliated coming back in here?” Spencer was getting angry at his friends. They knew how much he cared about her. He didn’t often get like this.

“Just another minute or so, then we’ll go, ok?” Luke says, hoping again that this’ll calm him.

“Ok…only that…no longer. You can’t leave her with him for longer than that. Please…please protect her.” Spencer says softly.

“We will, Spence. We promise.”

“Thank you.” He sighs in relief.

It is indeed only another minute or two before go time, with JJ and Luke revealing themselves to the suspect. He is startled when two FBI agents with guns come out of the shadows. But before he can get angry and lash out at them, he turns that anger towards his potential victim.

“You…bitch!” He seethes, spitting in her face, causing her to gasp. This causes Luke to push him against the wall as he handcuffs him.

“Alright. That’s enough, buddy. We’re taking you in now.”

“You set me up? This was a set up?! I didn’t do anything! You pigs set me up!” He yells as Luke wrestled him over and into a squad car down at the end of the alley.

JJ comforts her briefly as she stands shaking slightly against the wall.

“Go back inside. Spence is quite anxious to see you.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

She wanders back inside the club, tugging her dress to get it back in place, wiping her smudged lipstick off, wiping the spit off as well.

Spencer is out of his seat like a rocket and bounding towards her the second he sees her enter the door she’d exited out of. He doesn’t say anything as he engulfs her in a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” He whispered softly in her ear.

“I’m always ok.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s ok to not be ok.” He caressed her back.

“I know. But I’m ok.”

“What if…what if I’m not?” He holds her tightly to him. He buried his face in her neck.

“Why would you…not be ok? I’m…I’m fine.”

“You don’t understand, hon. This whole thing…has been near torturous for me. Watching that man…talk to you…flirt with you…touch you and knowing he was…” He’s shaking now and he doesn’t even realize it.

She caresses his back. “Hey…hey…it’s ok. I’m ok. It’s all over now.” She whispered softly.

“I just didn’t want you to get hurt. If that monster had hurt you…”

“Why don’t we get out of here, huh? I think we should go.”

“Fucking finally.” He groans as he wraps an arm around her waist and swiftly makes his way with her to the front exit of the club. He takes a nice deep breath once he’s exposed to the cool night air. He didn’t even realize how suffocating that environment was to him.

He helps her back into the vehicle as it’s brought around and still keeps her close to him as they head to the hotel to decompress for the night.

Once in the calm peaceful safety of the hotel room, he grabs his sleepwear from his bag and then gets hers for her as well. She had retreated to the bathroom to remove her makeup and take the dress off. Spencer enters the bathroom without knocking. He gets an eyeful of his best friend in her underwear and his face turns red.

“Oh um…I’ll just…leave these here. Sorry.” He puts her sleep wear on the counter and turns quickly to leave, shutting the door behind him.

He changes outside the bathroom in the room, still very embarrassed about his faux pas. He should’ve knocked. He just had so much on his mind at that moment that he’d completely forgotten to do it.

He occupied himself with a book as he sat up on the bed. His head lifts when he hears the bathroom door open. As beautiful as she’d looked in that dress and makeup, she looked infinitely more comfortable in her sleep wear and with no makeup. And because she seemed so comfortable and relaxed now, she somehow seemed even more radiant to him.

“Hey.” He says softly as he smiles at her. “Feeling better?”

“Much better. Thank you.” She smiles back at him as she sits on her own bed.

He looks over at her as she gets her own book out to relax. She goes to put her earbuds in her ear and he stops her. He knows she’s going to listen to music.

“You don’t have to put those in. You can just…play it from the phone.”

She looks over at him. “Really? You’re sure? I dunno how you’re gonna feel about some of the music.”

“It’s fine. I’ll listen to whatever you wanna listen to.” He shrugged. He very much wanted to relax and listen to music together with her instead of it seeming like they were doing it separately.

“Ok. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.” She chuckles as she puts her earbuds away and turns the volume up on her phone to prepare to play her music.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You say that now.” She smirks as she presses play.

Classical music starts to play.

“What do you mean you warned me? That’s just Mozart!” He exclaimed.

“For now.”

“Oh for now.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “What’s next…Wagner? Don’t get crazy now.”

“Oh you just wait, Reid…just you wait.”

“Don’t tell me you have Hans Zimmer on there. That’d be really crazy.” He joked.

“Something wrong with movie and tv soundtracks?”

“No, not at all! I love them too. I’m merely amused at what you consider crazy.”

His smile falls when metal music starts playing. She laughs at his confused expression.

“I told you I warned you!”

“Now I’m concerned about what you consider relaxing.” He raises his eyebrows.

“I can always put my earbuds in.” She offers, pointing to them.

“No…no. It’s fine. Then I’d just be concerned for your hearing.” He shakes his head.

“You’re awfully concerned about me a lot of the time.” She notes, pausing the music.

“Of course I am. You’re my best friend. I care about you.”

“Well yeah but…how much?” She queried.

“What do you mean?” He cocks his head.

She scoffs. “You know what I mean, genius. Now answer the question.”

“Well…um…I suppose that…the answer is…a lot.” His gaze is averted from her.

“Spencer…look at me please.” She requests softly.

He obeys and his gaze lifts to meet here. “Yes?” He asks softly.

“Enough to almost blow our chance of catching that scum?”

He chuckled sheepishly, remembering what he’d done. “Yeah…that much.”

She puts her book down and stands up, going over to his bed. He looks up at her as she stands in front of him. She smiles down at him as she reaches up to cup his face. He smiles back up at her, letting her touch him. He wasn’t bothered by her touch.

“You were really scared, weren’t you?” She asks softly.

“I was terrified.”

“Even though I can handle myself?”

“I know you can. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was…” he trails off and his gaze averts briefly.

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t rationalize it in my mind. I knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t seem to matter. I was still scared. I couldn’t calm down. All of my nerves were on edge.”

“But why? If you knew I’d be fine…why worry?”

“Because…I care about you…because…because I think I love you. No…that’s not…I-I know that I love you.”

“You love me? Really?” She smiles.

“Oh absolutely.” He smiled back. “I think I have for quite a while now, I just…I just didn’t know how to express that to you. I could never…find the right words.”

“You couldn’t find the right words?” She chuckles lightly.

“Believe it or not, no. But I’ve…I’ve never been very good at expressing my feelings.”

“Well…the great thing about feelings is…you don’t necessarily need words to express them.”

“You don’t?” He looked at her quizzically.

She shakes her head. “No. You don’t. Actions work just as well.”

“Act-”

She cuts him off for the first time ever by leaning down to kiss him softly. He smiles softly and presses into the kiss. He’s waited so long to feel her lips against his. And it’s just as wonderful as he imagined it would be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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waywardxrhea · 24 days

Text

Heart's Desire - a Spencer Reid one shot

pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 9.58k

When working a serial killer case in Tennessee, you become the bait for a violent unsub whose victims all match your description. When going after the man you collapse and are rushed to the hospital for medical treatment.

a/n: so yes, this is a Reader one shot, but it is super niche so...whoops? this honestly was just a super self-indulgent fic for me to write because i can't say i have ever seen the heart condition i had presented in the media and i really wanted to explore how Spencer may interact with it, so here we are! this is my first time writing for the criminal minds fandom, so shout out to my bestie who helped me out with coming up with case details and smaller plot points that have been incorporated into this little one shot!

content: fluff (oh how i adore the fluff in this one!), multilingual Reader, secret relationship, implied smut (if you squint lol), insecure Reader, Reader fits the victimology, graphic description of canon level violence, Reader is bait for the unsub, protective Spencer, mentions of jealous and possessive Spencer, language, medical emergencies, small medical inaccuracies (no AED on the scene - i had to do it for the drama don't judge), crying Spencer.

(not my gif), CM dividers by @firefly-graphics , EKG dividers by me

“Good morning, beautiful,” you heard Spencer’s sleep ridden voice mumble from behind you as you began to stir awake with the sun that was filtering in through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom. The two of you had just gotten back from a case the day before and you were utterly exhausted. All you wanted to do was sleep in, and although he had bought blackout curtains for this exact reason, the sun still somehow managed to slip through, which you cursed the manufacturer for every time…

You flipped around in his arms to face him and sent a sleepy smile at him before mumbling, “Bonjour mon amour.”

“Oh so it’s a French morning?” Spencer asked with a quiet chuckle as he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.

“I was debating between that and Italian, but… French usually gets us to where I would love to spend this free day with you,” you replied with a smirk before leaning up to kiss him.

After a few slow and loving kisses, Spencer pulled away for a brief moment to rest his forehead on yours and say, “You know since we just got back from a case out of state that took so long to solve, the odds of the team getting called back out are significantly lower than if-”

And then your phones started ringing.

“What were you saying about the odds being low?” you muttered with a sigh as you turned back over in the bed and grabbed your phone off of the nightstand. You heard the automated voice on the other side tell you that there was a case the BAU was requested to work and that your presence was requested as soon as possible.

As you sighed and closed your eyes briefly while you tried to sink back into the pillow, Spencer noted, “Well I did say the odds were low, not zero…” You couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto your face at the comment as you laughed and lightly hit him in the bare chest with a throw pillow.

“‘Never tell me the odds,’” you told him as you reluctantly began getting out of bed, sitting up on the edge and stretching to wake up your tired muscles.

Spencer positioned himself to where his legs were on either side of you and wrapped his arms around your torso before kissing your neck and mumbling, “No matter how many times you quote Han Solo at me, it’s not gonna stop me from telling you the odds of things, you know that right?”

“I know, I know…” you told him with a giggle as you toyed with his hands that were clasped in front of your stomach. “So how far apart do we have to leave again so they aren’t suspicious?”

“Well your apartment is about a thirty minute commute from the office while mine is twenty depending on traffic, so you'll leave ten minutes after me,” he reminded you as you both began to get up and untangle yourselves from each other. “I have an extra go-bag packed for you in the closet as well as a few outfits so you aren’t wearing the same clothes you came home in yesterday.”

“You’re the best, Spence,” you told him quietly as you both made your way into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

As you jumped into the shower to take advantage of your extra ten minutes, you thought about your relationship with Spencer. You two had started dating about a year after you joined the BAU and out of fear of getting in trouble, like two teenagers you hid the relationship from your teammates. Your transfer from Homeland Security was prompted when your interrogation and hostage negotiation tactics landed you on the BAU’s radar and you very quickly became fast friends with the whole team. So with the guise of being your usual friendly self, it truthfully hadn’t been too hard to hide the relationship from your friends. And while Spencer was hesitant about hiding a relationship from a group of people like the BAU team, your fear of being let go as the “more inferior” member out of the two of you was what convinced him to keep it a secret. It also prompted him to lecture you on your clear inferiority complex, but that was neither here nor there.

“I’ll see you there, drive safe,” Spencer told you before kissing your cheek as you wrapped yourself in your towel to dry off while finishing your routine.

“You too,” you replied, giving him a peck on the lips before he began walking out of the restroom and apartment to head to headquarters.

When you got to HQ, you yawned as you made a beeline for the break room for some much needed caffeine. When you got inside, you cordially told Spencer and Derek, “Good morning you two,” as you poured your coffee, creamer, and sugar into the mug you always had on your desk. It was your parting gift from your Homeland team that was in the shape of the sun and what prompted your nickname from Derek.

He laughed as he watched you and Spencer prepare your coffees, telling you, “You know Sunshine, I think with how much creamer you put in that you may have Pretty Boy beat on sugar consumption.”

“Ha ha very funny,” you told him with a playful roll of your eyes as you turned to walk from the break room and into the bullpen.

As the three of you ambled into the area, Hotch emerged from his office and announced, “Sorry to call you all in so soon after getting back from a case, but this one is something we aren’t taking lightly and needs to be stopped because the unsub is escalating quickly.” So after a quick briefing on what he knew of the case, Hotch told you all to be prepared for wheels up in thirty.

When the plane landed in Tennessee later that afternoon and you stood up from your perch, you stumbled a bit when you felt your heart give an irregular stutter in your chest. “You okay, kid?” David asked you with concern in his eyes after seeing the brief moment of panic flit across your features.

“Yeah, fine, just feeling a bit off after that flight I guess,” you replied, taking a deep breath and straightening up which seemed to do the trick as your heart began beating in a regular rhythm once more.

“You know, I wouldn’t say I blame you if you were a bit anxious,” he told you as you both exited the jet and started making your way to the black SUVs awaiting your arrival. “It isn’t every day we get cases as violent as this one, especially when the victims…”

“All look like me?” you supplied quietly when he trailed off at the end of his sentence. It was true that when you began going over the pertinent files on the flight that all of the unsub’s victims shared many of your physical features, and while that did alarm you, you knew that your team would have your back during this case no matter what. You placed a small smile on your lips as you told him, “I’ll rest easier when this guy’s behind bars.”

“That’s the spirit,” he told you with a warm smile as you loaded into the SUV, your bag at your feet and your case file in your lap as you continued to read over what all the unsub had been up to in the last couple of months.

After you all got to the local police precinct and got settled in and assigned tasks, you made your way to their break room for another cup of coffee, only to be followed in by Spencer a few moments later. As you both made your drinks, you casually turned so you were leaning on the counter and watching over the office as Spencer asked, “Are you okay?”

“You know, Dave asked me the same thing, I’m starting to think you guys are more worried about me than I am,” you told him, your lips covered by your cup in case anyone you couldn't see was watching.

“I always worry about you,” Spencer told you softly as he stirred his sugary drink.

“And I, you, but for now we need to work on getting this guy in cuffs and it won’t happen if either of us get distracted,” you said with a sort of finality in your tone, determined to make sure you conveyed a sense of confidence or else you too may fall victim to worrying about yourself instead of working the case.

As you walked out to the desk where you were allowed to set up, Penelope ran past you, almost toppling you over as she shouted, “Hotch, I found out how he’s luring the victims!”

“How?” your unit chief asked as she made his company. The team had barely been here a couple hours and the locals' work was already being combed through and missing clues were being found.

“Dating apps! On every victim’s phone was a dating app and she had planned a date with a man from there. None of the men’s accounts were the same and none of them had common pictures, but the unsub always used the same lines when chatting the women up!” she told him in a rush as she showed him pages she had printed out while doing her dive into the womens' phones.

Spencer emerged from the break room with his coffee in hand, saying, “Well based on that knowledge we can assume that dating apps have a significant meaning to him.”

From her place nearby, JJ spoke up, saying, “Every victim had her left ring finger severed off, maybe his wife cheated on him using one?”

As Derek walked into the room with David hot on his heels, he added, “And turns out they also had their ovaries taken out by the unsub.”

“As well as their cervix glued shut with industrial sealant before their genitals were mutilated,” David supplied, his head shaking as he handed Hotch the ME reports.

A scoff huffed out of your chest before you mused, “So he feels slighted by his ex wife and has decided that in order to pacify that anger he does what he wishes he could to her to the victims…”

“Do we know if any of the victims was the ex wife?” Derek asked.

“Nope, all the victims are single women who have been on dating apps for quite some time and none of them have an active or otherwise marriage license under their name,” Penelope replied.

“Good work everyone, let’s get to work finding this guy,” Hotch said. “Find out all you can, I want to give this brief before nightfall.”

“Yes sir,” you all replied before once again splitting off into your assigned tasks.

Right as the sun began to set that evening, Hotch called everyone together and the team began giving the locals the brief on the unsub. Hotch of course began the brief, informing the locals, “The unsub is a caucasian male in his mid thirties to early forties who we believe to have a medical background in surgery and likely just went through a rough divorce."

You were the next to speak, announcing, “We believe he was cheated on by his ex wife, which is what triggered the break and the murders. The victims all share common features which we assume are also shared by the ex wife.” As you said this, you clicked the remote in your hand and on the board behind you popped up the faces of the victims.

With the slightest tremor in his voice, Spencer was the next to piggyback, saying, “The victims have all been found with mutilated genitals as well as their left ring finger cut off. The unsub also took the time to use industrial glue to seal the victim’s cervix shut and to cut out her ovaries.”

Derek was next to speak, adding to Spencer’s statement, “The cause of death in all the victims was prolonged blood loss. This tells us that he's performing these rituals while the victim is still alive.”

“He’s tech savvy, enough so that he is able to create difficult to trace profiles on dating apps on which he seduces victims before murdering them,” Penelope said sadly.

JJ was next, telling the team, “The only evidence that he’s left behind are the bodies in secluded dump locations and as of right now we do not know where the victims are being killed.”

David was the last to speak, rounding out the brief with, “All of this combined leads us to believe that he is a very calculated and dangerous individual who needs to be found before he strikes again.” When he was done, Hotch dismissed everyone to begin their search with this new information.

“Hey chief?” came a voice from the front of the office a few minutes later. Both the local police chief and Hotch looked up at the young man expectantly before he replied, “There’s been another victim…”

“He’s escalating again…” Hotch mumbled as he ran a hand over his chin. “There was a lot less time between victims. We need to work faster.”

“Yes sir,” everyone replied before attempting to double down on their work.

As they all began working, the gears in your mind began to spin and when you finally formulated a plan, you approached Hotch and said, “Sir, I think I may have an idea on how to catch him.”

“How?”

“We do a sting. Penelope makes a dating profile for me on one of those apps and we use me as bait,” you told him, never breaking eye contact to convey that you were serious about the idea. “If we can get someone inside then we get our guy as well as possible evidence for half a dozen murders.”

Hotch sighed before saying your name warily. “You know how risky that is.”

“And that risk is something I am willing to take in order to stop this guy. If we don’t do this then there may be another victim tomorrow, maybe two,” you said. Squaring your shoulders, you added, “I agreed to take this job in order to help people. I fit the victimology. This is how I can help.”

A few moments of silence passed as Hotch seemed to weigh his options before he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he said, “Fine. I’ll think through the details. I want everyone well rested tonight before we start planning tomorrow. You and Garcia share a room at the hotel so she can start making that profile for you.”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a small smile and a nod before heading off to find Penelope so you two could head to the hotel and begin.

“So are you on one of these apps normally?” Penelope asked as the two of you sat beside each other on the hotel bed, laptop and phones in hand to create this fake profile for yourself.

“Me? No, I don’t trust them for this exact reason,” you replied, shuddering as you thought about the poor women who thought they were simply going to meet a new man but paid with their lives and dignity.

“Oh I see,” Penelope said before instructing you to find a specific type of photo in your camera roll that the unsub may find attractive. “Are you dating at all?”

“Oh, uh, not really,” you said, trying to pace your words so they didn’t seem panicky. “This job takes up a lot of my time and all so it would be hard to find time for a relationship between cases.”

“You have an excellent point, but you can’t let something like that hold you back! You deserve all the happiness in the world!” she told you cheerfully as she continued typing away at the laptop. “What are your interests?”

Smiling inwardly at how the subject turned from your dating life you told her, “Reading, rom coms, coffee, patisseries, art, the occasional drink.” As you thought for a moment, you added, “Ooh, make sure you put ‘not looking for anything serious.’ I think that’s something that may trigger the unsub into choosing my profile.”

“Smart!” she replied before selecting that option on the profile. “We should do this more often! Maybe when this is all said and done we can make you a real one and I can just do a background check of the person before you go on a date!”

You laughed lightly as you told her, “Let’s make sure I survive this case first then we’ll go from there.”

The next morning came and went as the team tried to track the guy to no avail, so right before lunch, Hotch gathered everyone around and announced, “Okay, this unsub is proving hard to find by other methods, so we’ve decided to pull a sting. We can’t just sit around waiting for our surprisingly extensive list of divorced surgeons to make a move.” He motioned to you and Penelope and said, “These two worked on creating a fake dating profile that the unsub may fall for. The plan is to get him alone and our resident interrogator will pull a confession out of him.”

“Wait what?” Spencer asked immediately, his eyes wide. “Is it a good idea to send her in when we know the unsub is escalating?”

“It’s the only lead we can get right now,” Hotch told him. “If we don’t do this tonight then we may risk another woman dying at his hands.”

“Yeah, and it may be her,” Derek said a bit sharply, the idea of sending you into the belly of the beast not sitting right with him either.

“Not if we’re all on our A-games when it goes down,” David said in an attempt to calm the younger men down. “If you’re so concerned, we can send you into wherever he asks to meet her so we can have eyes on her the entire time." He chuckled before adding, "Derek, not you Spencer, no offense but you do tend to stick out like a sore thumb in certain environments."

“But-” Spencer tried, but was cut off by Hotch.

“No buts, we’re doing this. Tonight. Garcia, activate the profile.”

“Yes sir,” she replied quietly before opening up her phone and clicking a few buttons. “It’s done.”

“Good.” He turned to you and said your name to get your attention. “Just make sure you reply to any account that may fit the profile. Garcia will run a trace on it to see when it was created since we knew he makes a new account for every victim.”

“Yes sir,” you replied, nodding your head as you pulled out your phone and got to work. While you scrolled through the app and took a seat in one of the secluded offices to eat your lunch, you were startled by another presence entering the room without knocking. “Geez Spence, you scared me!” you scolded him, clutching your chest in a vain attempt to slow your racing heart.

“And you’re scaring me,” he told you as he shuttered the blinds to prevent any passersby from seeing the two of you in there together. As you sat your phone down on the table, he covered your hand with his and asked sincerely, “Are you okay with this plan?”

You nodded. “It was my idea. We need to get this guy before another innocent woman dies.”

Echoing Derek, he asked, “And what if that turns out to be you?”

You scoffed humorously before deadpanning, “And you really think you’d let that happen?” After he floundered with his words for a few seconds, you kissed him gently before saying, “I trust that if anything goes sideways you’ll be there to save me. You always are. I just need you to trust me and my judgment on this one. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, it’s just-” he tried, but you cut him off with another kiss.

“Just trust me, love,” you told him once you pulled away again.

After you said this, your phone pinged with a notification that caught your attention. You picked it up and saw that there was a new message in your dating app’s inbox. “Hey beautiful, you look like you are in need of some company. How about you meet me at Monroe’s tonight and we see where this goes,” Spencer read with disdain in his voice. He cringed before saying, “Please say that’s not what I sounded like flirting with you…”

You laughed, telling him, “No, the poetry you quoted at me was much more romantic than that line.” You placed one more quick kiss to his lips before telling him, “I’m gonna have Penny run this profile and we’ll see if it could be our guy.”

Turns out there was a high chance of it being your guy, seeing as the profile was created just hours before and yours was the only account that he interacted with. So after a chat with Hotch about the plan to get this guy to confess, you got dressed in a little black number and silver heels, finishing your look with the most effortful hair and makeup you had done in a while. When you emerged into the precinct you saw that Spencer was the only one in the immediate area. “Where is everyone?” you asked.

“Getting the gear ready and briefing the police. I got the distinct honor of greeting you,” he told you with a warm smile as he drank in your appearance. His eyes darted around the room to ensure the two of you were alone before he wrapped you in his arms and kissed the top of your head, mumbling into your hair, “Tu es magnifique.”

“Merci beaucoup,” you replied, feeling a heat rush up your neck and into your cheeks at his words. No matter how long you and Spencer had been together, whenever he flirted with you, especially in any of the different languages you spoke, you still got flustered.

When Spencer’s arms quickly untangled themselves from your embrace you rightly assumed that the team was emerging into the offices once more. Hotch called out your name before asking, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied with a nod, smoothing out your dress before joining the team near the door.

On the way to the bar in the taxi you were assigned to take, Hotch went over the plan once more, detailing to you that Derek was already at the bar to keep an eye on you in case things went sideways, that you are to attempt to get any sort of confession out of the unsub, and if you can get information on where the killings were happening that would be even better. You had a plan in mind to attempt and get inside his head and get him to confess without even realizing it, so as you walked into the bar you feigned confidence as you walked up and sat on a barstool to wait for the unsub to approach you.

Derek sat across the room behind you to your left, near the door, and his soothing voice came through the in-ear you had, saying, “All right Sunshine, if things go sideways you just say the word and I’m all over this guy.”

“Just trust me,” you told him quietly as you took your first drink from the water glass that the bartender handed you with your drink.

“I believe I’m supposed to be meeting you here?” came a voice from beside you a few minutes later.

You turned toward the voice and smiled in greeting. He did fit the profile, strikingly actually. You noticed a tan line on his left ring finger and how his hands were slightly cracked and dry, perhaps from surgical scrubbing at his job. You offered out your hand for him to kiss as well as your name before telling him, “I believe so. And you’re already nearly half a drink behind, so why don’t you catch up, handsome?”

“I think we can make that arrangement,” he said after kissing your knuckles.

"That was smooth, remind me why you're single again?" JJ asked with a quiet laugh through the in-ear.

You kept your facial expression in response to the comment neutral as the unsub ordered his drink from the bartender. When the two of you began talking, the team kept their ends of the coms silent as you worked to get what information you needed from the unsub.

During the conversation, you almost dragged out what you wanted from him, but he always skirted around it. You knew he was your man though, that was plain as day when he spoke about his ex wife who he told you moved off to California to be with the man she cheated on him with. During the conversation, Penelope informed you quietly that she had found record of the woman as well as IDing the man sitting across from you as Doctor Samuel Costner, who specialized in abdominal surgery.

After another paced drink from you and a couple more for him, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you, his hands splaying out over the tops of your thighs as he asked, “How about I take you back to my place and show you a good time?”

Bingo. His place. One of the things the team couldn’t figure out was where the unsub lived, otherwise it would have been much easier to locate him and the possible murder site. With this information in mind, you leaned back into his embrace and told him, “I like the sound of that.”

The silence from the team was broken as Spencer’s voice asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“As long as we tail them it should be fine,” you heard JJ tell him.

“We have his name now though, can’t we just have Garcia dig into where he lives and go from there?” Spencer countered.

“And go in with what suspicion? We need evidence that he’s killing there in order to step onto the property,” JJ replied.

“But this is a controlled scene, if she gets in the car with him we can’t control what happens in there. What if we lose the truck on the backroads? This is too risky, I’m-”

“Reid sit down and trust her,” you heard Hotch scold him, a finality in his voice. “What we need is a location and she’s getting us exactly that. Now sit back and let her work or else I’m pulling you from this case.”

“Yes sir…” Spencer eventually said.

“Remember the signal,” Derek mumbled as you and the man made your way out of the bar and to his truck.

A nearly thirty minute drive took you to a farm that had vast amounts of pastures and trails hidden within the woods as well as a large picturesque barn that looked just like they all did in the movies. “So this is where you live huh? It’s beautiful…” you breathed as you looked around, trying to take in any specific details you may need to relay to the team in case they weren’t able to tail you.

He nodded as he pulled up in front of the barn, putting his hand on your thigh as he said, “Family owned and operated since the 1800s. And while I don’t do much of the labor around here because of work, I am still the proud owner. Maybe you could be too one day.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked in your most alluring voice as you slightly widened the space between your thighs, the gesture making you feel filthy, but if this was how you caught the unsub then so be it.

The kisses that he gave you started off innocently enough, but soon turned aggressive and you cringed inwardly at the fact that you knew the team was listening to everything from their end of the coms. You didn't even want to think about what was going through Spencer's mind - the man had a reputation of being jealous and possessive sometimes when you two went out and guys flirted with you.

Before you knew it, the unsub was coming over to your side of the truck and opening the door. He pulled you into his arms and asked, “How about we go for a roll in the hay?” You giggled innocently before agreeing, subtly eyeing the black SUVs that had begun to creep onto the outskirts of the property line with their headlights out. They followed you. Good.

So as he took you deeper into the barn and to an area that was lined with tarps that had seen better days, your eyes began scrutinizing every little thing that could be evidence that he had killed those women here. And you found it as you eyed a corner of another tarp that seemed to have dried blood on it.

Right as you were about to sneak in your code word to the team to signal you had what you needed, you heard Spencer’s distinct voice shouting, “FBI, hands where I can see them!”

“Shit!” the man shouted before jumping off of you and darting away, the large knife you had somehow not noticed before dropping to the ground as he sprinted off.

“We’ve got a rabbit!” you shouted, tossing off your heels and beginning to run after him. “I’m taking the back exit, someone go around the side!”

“On it!” JJ called as she began running around the other side of the barn to cut him off.

When you ran out of the door you saw him leave out of, you were met with a wooden fence that he had jammed in the few moments you were distracted. Not wanting to waste any time, you opted to climb the fence, jumping over and landing awkwardly on your feet. When you did, you felt your heart give an irregular stutter in your chest before starting to beat rapidly. As you stood up, you began to get light headed and it felt like cotton filled your ears as you faintly heard a commotion around the corner of the barn. Heat seemed to fill every part of your body and your vision started to tunnel as you gasped for air, stumbling around to try and steady yourself on the side of the barn before your body gave in and collapsed.

“Stay down!” JJ sternly told the man as she pinned him to the ground and cuffed him. “Samuel Costner, you’re under arrest for the murder of six women.”

As JJ recited his rights and escorted him to one of the police cruisers that had emerged on the scene, Spencer looked around and asked where you were. “Didn’t she say she was going out the back?” Derek asked. “I didn’t see her come back around…”

Panic filled Spencer’s body immediately and he began quickly making his way around the barn with Derek hot on his heels. What if Costner got to you in desperation before JJ arrested him? What if you were bleeding out behind the barn? He had to get to you quickly.

When he rounded the corner and saw you collapsed on the ground, he shouted your name before sprinting over and feeling for a pulse. After a few seconds and some quick math, he said, “Her heart rate is 238 and she feels clammy… She’s not bleeding that I can see, but she’s hardly breathing. Derek!”

“On it!” he shouted, pulling out his walkie to dispatch an ambulance to the location. “They said it’ll take about twenty minutes to get here.”

“She might not have twenty minutes!” Spencer snapped as he watched your now frail body and how you were losing color quickly. With a strength that Derek didn’t know he had, Spencer lifted you into his arms and began carrying you to one of the SUVs, telling him, “Get one of the officers to give us an escort, we’re taking her!”

“Oh, got it!” Derek stuttered out before barking orders at an officer and getting into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked as she quickly jumped into the passenger seat while Spencer got you and himself into the back seat.

They took off at a rapid speed, Derek intending on cutting the ride to the hospital in half at least as he pushed the pedal into the floor as far as it would go.

“I don’t know, her heart is racing though and we found her collapsed,” Spencer told her, his own breath beginning to come in rapidly as he began to panic.

“Spence, look at me,” JJ told him gently which prompted him to look up at her. “We’re gonna figure it out. She’ll be okay. What do we know?”

As he ran his thumb over your jaw in a way of soothing himself, Spencer rattled off to JJ, “Well obviously she was in a state of stress during the sting, but even a panic attack wouldn’t cause her heart to beat this fast, panic attacks top out at about 200 beats per minute. She’s usually good at controlling her anxiety anyway, especially under pressure like this… He couldn’t have drugged her at the bar because she got all her drinks directly from the bartender and she was cognizant of what she was doing and saying the whole time. As far as I know, at her last doctor’s appointment she was given a clean bill of health…”

“Well not being drugged is good, we can work with that,” JJ reassured him. She checked the map on her phone and said, “We’re almost there, just hang in there.”

When you arrived at the hospital, Spencer carried you in and placed you on the stretcher that was waiting at the triage door. “What happened?” a nurse asked as a doctor walked up while the team began placing EKG leads all over your chest.

“We’re FBI. We were working a case and she was chasing down a perp. I didn’t see her come back from where she said she was going and I found her like this,” Spencer replied as he began following them while they pushed you into a room, JJ and Derek hot on his heels.

“Any significant medical history?” she asked as they began plugging the wires into machines which immediately began blaring with alarms.

As Spencer began rattling off your medical history, two of the nurses escorted JJ and Derek into the hall to clear some space for the medical team. After two nurses got IVs started in your left arm, another came running in with some syringes and vials of medication. As they began preparing the medication, the doctor looked toward Spencer and told him, “We’re about to give her a medication that’s going to stop her heart.”

“What?!” he shouted, his eyes wide.

Calmly the doctor continued, saying, “It’s got a super short half-life so it’ll only be for a few moments and then her heart should go back into a normal rhythm. It’s a very routine drug. She may feel sore afterward but that is to be expected.”

And so a pair of nurses worked together to quickly administer the medication and sure enough for a few moments he watched the monitor as your heart stopped and Spencer could practically feel his own stop too. The tension in his shoulders eased up slightly as your heart returned to a normal 88 beats per minute but then alarms started blaring again within seconds as the EKG suddenly looked like a toddler was scribbling on the monitor. Spencer knew that rhythm from a book he read one time and knew that it was deadly if not treated quickly. In a blind rage, he shouted at the doctor, “You said that medication would help! Look what happened! I want a different doctor on her case right now and-”

“Get him out of here and call a code blue!” the doctor called before shouting orders to the rest of the team, two of which began trying to escort Spencer from the room.

“You can’t just-!” he shouted in frustration before he felt a hand on his shoulder that squeezed gently.

“Let them work,” came Derek’s voice from behind him.

When Spencer wrestled himself out of the nurses’ hold and watched them go back into the room and close the door that now had a blue light above it, both JJ and Derek saw the dangerous look in his eye, but JJ was the one brave enough to ask, “What the hell was that about Spence? You can’t just yell at the doctor like that! He was trying to help!”

“Him trying to help sent her into v-fib and now her heart isn’t working!” he retaliated, running a hand through his messy hair. He watched in horror as another group of nurses came running up with the crash cart and darted into the room. He tried to hide the tears in his eyes as he turned away and stalked off down the hall, unsure of what to do with himself at the moment.

“Spence!” JJ called after him, about to follow him, but was stopped when a gentle hand grabbed her forearm.

“Let him go,” said David as he too watched Spencer’s retreating form.

JJ sighed in frustration and said, “I just don’t know what’s gotten into him! Why would he yell at them? Yeah I’m worried too but that was a whole other level. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him that mad.”

“Just think about it from his perspective,” David told her vaguely before encouraging the two of them to meet the rest of the team in the waiting room.

Once the pair of them parted ways, David sighed and took off in the direction he saw Spencer going. When he found him a few hallways over staring out a window into nothingness, David cleared his throat and asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“From the time I found her with her heart beating that fast it’s been twenty-eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds give maybe three minutes from the moment she took off after Costner. It’s been two minutes and forty-eight seconds since that doctor sent her into v-fib and effectively made her heart useless as a pump,” Spencer mumbled.

“That’s not what I meant, kid,” David told him, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. He leaned his back against the window and said, “I know love when I see it.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, his back straightening as it clicked in his mind what he was implying.

Now David chuckled as he said, “Don’t lie to me, kid. I see the way you two look at each other. The way you joke around together. You’re relaxed around her.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And between you and me, I’ve seen you two sneak off together when you thought no one was looking.”

Spencer cringed at the last bit, but couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips at the thought of you. “We’ve been together for just over a year,” he said softly, the smile growing wider as he remembered your anniversary a few weeks prior. That smile quickly faltered though when he remembered what was happening in that hospital room a few halls down.

“She’s going to pull through,” David said gently, his hand landing on Spencer’s back, giving him a gentle pat.

When he said that, Spencer’s phone started ringing with a call from Hotch, who told him, “She’s stable and resting, they gave her a sedative so she doesn’t overwork herself again. The rest of us need to finish up at the scene. I trust you can get your paperwork done on the jet later. Call with updates please.”

“Yes sir,” Spencer replied, a tinge of hope in his voice at the words.

“Well?” David asked expectantly when Spencer hung up.

“She’s stable!” he told him, the tension in his shoulders leaving as he exhaled deeply.

“Then go to her!” David said, a smile on his face.

“I-I will!” Spencer said, turning to take off toward the room he left you in. Before he could leave the older gentleman’s presence though, he asked, “David?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell Hotch.”

“It’s not my secret to tell,” he replied with a nod before he answered his cell, presumably with his own call from their unit chief.

The wait for you to wake up took longer than Spencer would have liked, and by then they already had to move you out of the emergency department and to a cardiac monitoring floor to make room for more emergencies. When your eyes finally fluttered open in the early hours of the morning, you cringed at the bright light coming from the window before orienting yourself to your surroundings. You were in a hospital room that much was clear, and beside you was Spencer, with one hand in yours and the other holding up what looked like a map that you assumed was a medication insert. Only Spencer would be reading up on whatever medications they may have given you for whatever you ended up in here for…

“Spence?” you whispered to get his attention. When his hazel eyes flicked away from the pamphlet and met yours, you could see how they instantly flooded with tears as a smile made its way onto his face. As he gently threw his arms around you, you asked, “What happened?”

“When you ran after the unsub you collapsed and your heart was beating extremely fast. I got you into the SUV and Derek drove you here to get treated,” he replied, his voice muffled by your hair. You could hear this disdain in this voice as he added, “They gave you this medication that stopped your heart and was supposed to put you back into a normal rhythm but it ended up making things worse. You went into an even deadlier heart rhythm and they had to shock you. No CPR thankfully, but the nurses said that if that first shock didn’t get you back they would have had to…” He pulled you impossibly closer as he whispered, “I was so scared. I thought I lost you…”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you attempted to comfort him by rubbing soothing circles into his back. That was a lot to take in, but you hated seeing Spencer so upset and that was your biggest concern at the moment.

You cleared your throat, but before you could ask what was on your mind, there was a knock at the door and two people came in, a nurse and a doctor of cardiology. The doctor sent you a warm smile and said, “It’s good to see you awake Miss, you gave the ED team a real scare last night!”

“It was the doctor down there that caused such a fuss…” Spencer muttered, which earned a squeeze of your hand that warned him to be cordial.

“Yes, that’s actually what I came up here to talk to you two about, er, you Miss.” He glanced down to your hands and didn’t notice a ring, so he asked, “And what’s your relation may I ask? Are you okay with him being here for this?”

“He’s my boyfriend and yes he’s allowed to be here. If I don’t remember something that big brain in there will,” you said, a quiet laugh leaving your lips.

“Okay, great!” the doctor said as he clapped his hands together. “So when you came in, you were in what we call SVT which they treated with a medication called adenosine since you were unresponsive. It’s a fairly routine drug for emergent SVT conversion. When they gave it to you however, it threw your heart into V-fib which essentially caused your heart muscles to quiver instead of contract. In my years of experience, I’ve only ever seen one condition that would cause that medication to make your heart react like that.” He motioned for the nurse to hand the two of you a piece of paper as he continued, “What I think may be going on is called Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. It’s a condition in which the conduction system in your heart misfires and sends you into SVT. Luckily enough it’s easily treated with a heart ablation surgery, but you will have to go through the steps of a formal diagnosis before going through with that as this is just a guess. Do you have any questions for me?”

You looked at the doctor for a moment, your eyes wide as you shook your head no, unsure why you did it, but in your state of shock you didn’t know what else to do. You were sure whatever research Spencer does on the condition would answer any of your later questions anyway. Through the ringing in your ears you of course heard Spencer’s muffled voice asking the doctor as many questions as he could think of after reading through the education packet, but you paid no attention as you thought of the implications this might have on your job and life as a whole…

What felt like only a few moments passed in the fog of noise and chaos in your brain before you were gently pulled back to reality by Spencer’s soothing voice as he called out your name to get your attention. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asked when your eyes finally met with his concerned ones.

“Too much… I don’t wanna think about it right now…” you whispered, a tear slipping from your eye as an array of emotions blasted through your body. He pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back, not pushing the topic further for the moment.

Wanting a change in subject, you cleared your throat and focused on work, asking, “Did we get him? The unsub?”

As Spencer pulled away and tried to discreetly wipe a tear from his cheek, he laughed incredulously before saying, “All thanks to you.”

“Good. At least he’s put away now,” you said, relaxing as much as you could into the stiff hospital bed.

Spencer looked at you and shook his head in disbelief as he said, “Only you could be told your heart stopped practically twice and that you may need surgery to fix it and you’re still more concerned about if we caught the unsub or not.”

“What can I say, I was passionate about putting that one away,” you said, forcing a small smile on your face.

Spencer for the first time in a while was at a loss of words for what else to say on the subject, so instead he simply whispered, “I love you,” before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

The two of you quickly broke away from each other when you heard a squeal and something hitting the floor behind Spencer. When you both looked over to identify the sound, you saw your team standing in the room holding various gifts as well as your go-bag and some palatable food for breakfast. “You two! I- We- You-!” Penelope stuttered out as her eyes darted from your face to Spencer’s and back. She quickly crouched down and picked up what turned out to be a pack of makeup removing wipes before asking, “When did this happen?!”

“My man!” Derek said with a sly smile on his face as he went over to clap Spencer on the back.

“I- We can explain!” Spencer said, a bit of desperation in his voice as he watched Hotch place his get well balloon down on the table before walking out of the room.

Spencer took one look at the returning terrified look on your face before starting to stand up to go after Hotch, but stopped when David placed a hand on his shoulder to stop his movement. “I’ll deal with it in a minute, kid. You stay with her.”

After a few moments of tense silence, you managed to say, “Surprise?” as Spencer once again resumed holding your hand.

JJ laughed quietly as she sat down on the couch in the room, asking, “Like Garcia said, when did this happen?”

“Just over a year ago,” Spencer replied, squeezing your hand as his smile once again appeared.

“A year?!” Penelope and JJ asked at the same time, their eyes wide in shock.

David laughed and shook his head before asking, “And how did anyone else not notice?”

“In my defense, I thought it was an unspoken rule not to profile each other,” JJ mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief.

“It’s not profiling if it’s obvious,” David said with a chuckle. He leaned over and placed a kiss to the top of your head before telling you, “Rest up and get to feeling better, you scared us all.”

“Yes sir,” you replied, huffing out a laugh as you watched him exit the room followed soon after by the rest of the team who gave you their well wishes too. “Well I guess that cat’s out of the bag now…” you whispered, pulling your blanket closer to your body as your anxiety began to creep in.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out,” Spencer reassured you, his eyes flicking up to the heart monitor and noticing that your rate was beginning to climb. He squeezed your hand as he said, “Right now we just need to focus on figuring out if you have that condition the cardiologist mentioned. Dave is talking with Hotch and I’ll talk with him soon too, okay?”

He gently lifted your chin and mumbled, “Deep breaths, sweetheart…” You simply nodded in response as you closed your eyes and tried to breathe in time with him to calm your racing heart and mind.

After a few moments, Spencer reached over you and grabbed the pack of makeup wipes and took one out, starting to bring it to your face, which prompted you to ask, “What’re you doing, Spence?”

“I’m helping you take your makeup off,” he replied simply as he began to gently run the wipe over your jawline. “I know you hate when you get acne from your makeup when we're busy with cases…”

“I can do it, love, I’m sure you’ve been up all night and you need rest too,” you told him, gently grabbing his wrist to stop his movement.

“I don’t mind,” he told you with a small smile on his lips. “This gives me an excuse to admire your beautiful features…”

You could feel yourself blushing as you mumbled, “You’ve had my features memorized intimately since around two months into our relationship.”

“And I’ll never tire of your beauty,” he told you as he coaxed your hand off of his wrist and began gently working the makeup off your face.

“Je t’aime, Doctor Reid. You always know how to make me feel better,” you whispered a few minutes later when the last makeup wipe was discarded.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, placing a gentle kiss on your lips once more.

When you were cleared to discharge the next morning, the rest of the BAU had already flown back home. Hotch offered to send the jet back to get the two of you, but knowing that they could be called out on a case, Spencer declined, also citing to him, “People with unstable heart disease and arrhythmias have the risk of deadly episodes while in the air due to the pressure changes within the cabin as well as the lower oxygen levels and higher risk of dehydration, not to mention the added stress both physically and emotionally.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re just renting a car to get back?” Hotch asked and the pair of you could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose as he asked this.

“Yes sir,” Spencer replied shortly. “If anything comes up feel free to call. We’ll both get our paperwork done before coming back to the office.”

“Thank you,” he said simply before hanging up.

Since he hadn’t wanted to leave your side, Spencer hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Hotch about your relationship and over the phone it was hard to tell what the annoyance in his tone was over… As you began to think about those implications, Spencer glanced over at you before taking your hand in his and saying, “You’re working yourself up again…”

“I’m just scared is all…” you mumbled as the pair of you followed the rental car agent to the car you would be taking back to Virginia.

Once you were both in the car after Spencer inspected it for cleanliness, he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, reiterating to you, “We’re going to figure it out. David said he thinks Hotch will come around, and if you’re worried about your heart, we’ve already got your appointment scheduled for when we get back home. Whatever happens we’ll take it on together like we always do.”

“Thank you, Spence,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes once more. You felt like you had done more than enough crying in the past few days, even though there had been more than one occasion when Spencer had rattled off some facts about crying being a great form of stress relief.

Walking into headquarters a few days later, you tugged at your shirt uncomfortably as you and Spencer stepped into the elevator together. You had been to the doctor the day before and they had attached you to a 24-hour heart monitor that they would use to aid in your diagnosis, and you’d be lying if you said all the wires didn’t cause you to be filled with an overwhelming feeling of insecurity.

Taking note of your shifting, Spencer asked quietly, “Would you like to wear my jacket?”

“And give Hotch another reason to let me go?” you rebutted, your voice breaking at the end.

“That’s not going to happen,” Spencer reassured you as the doors to the elevator opened and you two walked out and toward the BAU offices.

It definitely felt that way though when the first thing you heard when emerging into the bullpen was Hotch calling both of your last names and saying, “You two, my office.”

Feeling like two teenagers caught in the act, when Spencer closed the door behind him, he immediately started rambling. “Hotch, please I can explain, we-”

“I don’t need an explanation, I need you to sign these forms,” your unit chief said, handing the both of you a packet of papers that you began reading even though the papers shook with the tremors in your hands.

“If you just give me a second to-” Spencer tried again as he took the packet but didn’t so much as glance at it.

“Sign the papers,” Hotch said, ignoring Spencer’s pleas for him to listen.

“But-”

“Spence, read it,” you said a few moments later after you had read the summary of the form on the front page of the packet.

At your words, Spencer finally looked down at the packet in his hands and within moments had it read, his mouth opening a little in shock as he asked Hotch, “Wait…you’re not mad?”

“Oh I’m mad. I’m mad that you two would keep such a secret from us, not only because I thought we functioned as a family here, but also because of how much your relationship played a role in that Tennessee case," Hotch told him sternly. "Seeing as even I never noticed before now and up until that case, it has never interfered with your work, I asked around and came up with some forms that should appease the higher-ups if for some reason this relationship were to get out to other teams.”

“So if we sign these forms then we’re both allowed to stay on the team as long as it doesn’t interfere with our work?” Spencer asked, slightly breathlessly.

“Correct,” Hotch replied, the corners of his mouth almost tugging up into a smile. “We can’t afford to lose either one of you from this team.”

“Well that’s a relief…” you mumbled as you grabbed a pen out of the cup sitting on his desk and signed the paper in the appropriate places.

“No more secrets, okay?” Hotch asked sternly as he eyed the two of you, pointing his own pen at each of you in turn.

“No more secrets,” you both agreed, giggles flying out of both of your mouths as you looked at each other after saying the same phrase.

“So when’s the wedding?” Derek asked with a chuckle as the two of you emerged from the office once everything was filed away.

“Once we get her heart situation figured out because I know she’ll want to go to Europe for the honeymoon,” Spencer replied as he pulled you close and placed a kiss on your forehead. The statement made your heart leap in your chest and you began to think of excuses to tell the cardiologist about what caused that reading on the monitor.

So with your job at the BAU still secure, you took a seat at your desk across from Spencer’s and sipped at the decaf coffee JJ had bought for the break room, completely grateful for the team, but even more so for Spencer. You weren’t sure how you would navigate this crazy and unpredictable life without him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #angst #romance #secret relationship #bau team #bau reader #fanfic #criminal minds oneshot #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid secret relationship

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

request; jj blurb idea! wearing his clothes for the first time/him seeing you in his clothes for the first time. maybe showering at the chateau but you didn’t bring anything so he gives you a tshirt! hehe literally kicking my feet under the table rn

pairing; jj x fem!reader

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

authors note; i was doing the same when you sent this anon in love with this idea ! (req a blurb from below w what’s left on the prompt list, or send in blurb, imagines, & fic ideas) a few more hours until season 3!

other ways to say i love you prompt list

The opportunity to wear JJ’s clothes tainted your thoughts undoubtedly.

Not only because it belonged to him but because everything about JJ’s wardrobe, is so JJ.

No problem with repping any and everything that belonged to your infamous boyfriend. Wether it be wearing his pair of boxers as shorts, a wife beater to slumber in, or a random tee shirt to go out in broad day light.

You just longed for his material to be around your figure.

Congenial and adequate, soft yet comfortable— all elements of his clothes that are alike with JJ.

They are his clothes, after all.

“JJ let go of me!”

Stood smack in the the middle of JJ’s room at the chateau. His window partially open, wind bristling from the night air, making its way through. Whilst the hard wood floors beneath the two of you tracked the imprints of your feet. Bed rolled around in, from you forcing JJ off of you then— merely to let you get up and off of the bed to shower, that you did. Since you came out though, wearing little clothing, (given that there wasn't much of your own items lying around at the Chateau) he hasn't let you be.

He encapsulates you with his sinewy arms, body swallowing you whole. Whilst you forcefully push your hands against his broad, shirtless chest— the skin mellow and thick. Indentations of your miniature hands marking his skin, like your were a rag doll; screaming for dear life.

All JJ could muster was a low, raspy chuckle.

“Say you won’t leave.”

JJ wanted to make love to you all day long.

Not sex.

But emotionally.

To emotionally make love, to have and hold. A day full of luster, every millisecond spent around or with you. To confide in and maybe even shrink you and put you in his pocket.

A keepsake.

“You know I can’t, I don’t have another change of clothes.”

Behind every ‘can’t’ JJ miraculously finds a way, opportunity at hand to see you clad in something of his.

“Lets find you something of mine?”

JJ flicks his tongue, peering down at you due to the fact that he knows he’s won and you aren’t moving a muscle. His hands maneuver themselves to the lower part of your ass, hands habitually grasp the masses with a squeeze of his hands.

“Are you gonna’ give me something to wear then or what?”

You hid your secret giddiness inside, not wanting to be the one to initiate this sentiment— things seemingly working themselves out anyway.

“Actually, baby … just fuckin’ walk around naked … s’even better.”

He acknowledges the glint in your eye, possibly even a twitch that says, ‘get me some damn clothes before I wring your neck.’

“Okay okay, whatcha’ thinkin’ a little Heywards t-shirt action … Bait Shop shirt … ?”

He let go of you distastefully, instantly salivating for the contact again. Walking over to the wooden drawers of his dresser, pulling out multiple options— signaling you to come over and pick.

“Surprise me.”

And you turn around, facing the emptiness of his room, that wasn’t his room, but nonetheless. Rummaging was heard as he hummed and mumbled minuscule things to himself.

“Turn around, pretty girl.”

An off-black brownish t-shirt is thrown into your hands. A decor in the upper left side that read ‘Sex Wax Est 2005’, font circular and embellished with stars on either end.

“Your turn-“

He was already turning around, the gentlemen that he prided on being. You grinned at the cotton beneath your digits, bringing it up to your nose— though it had been washed, his powerful musk still retained it. The silky sensation of yeasty beer and a freshly rolled blunt encompassed your senses.

“Need more time?”

“Just a second, J.”

If only he knew your fixation was obsessive beforehand.

“I’ll just be here … y’know ... missin' my girl."

Feet away, physical touch being his love language fully had a choke hold on him per usual.

After you were done with your inspection you pulled the thin material of your cropped cami past your shoulders, bra clasped tight to your back. Leaving you to remove those lacey pocketed shorts that adorned your body; his shirt lazily pulled past your head, drowning you in its bigger size, falling just to your mid thigh.

The sole way to sleep with JJ disclosed.

You felt more his than you ever had in the past; claiming his array of bib and tucker with exuberance.

His baby suffocating in him.

You cleared your throat gesturing for him to turn around, his mouth gaping open as he's awe struck; open long enough that you were impressed something didn't fly in it.

"Shit you look better than me!"

Ogle eyes whilst his mouth formed a tight-lipped smile, stomach churning and insides wavering at the woman he chose to take part in his life with him.

It may be a shirt to most, but with his person inside of it made it all the more nostalgic, heart growing tender.

"C'mere gotta get a better look at you."

Following suit you step forward to him, lips instantly connecting with your jaw with pure infatuation.

"S'perfect baby."

"Yeah? Think I can pass as the new JJ Maybank?" In the same position the two of you were in minutes ago, except grins are wider and souls aching all the more for eachother; and you mocked him.

"Pass me a beer and a J."

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sorryimananti-romantic · 3 months

Note

saurrr what do we need to do to get that deleted scene??? 👀🤲🏼

beg.

LJHDFJGHKJ KIDDING you asked and i shall serve with not only the deleted scene but two bonus scenes:

from the fic guerrilla (serialkiller!dr.yunho x writer!reader)

wc: 4k

notes: surgeon yunho who just so happens to be a serial killer (a vigilante with morals if you must), reader is a writer working on gory crime fiction novels, they are housemates, fluffy stuff, talks about therapy, questionable morals, honestly very questionable morals, smut at the end (minors and anyone not comfortable with dark themes do not interact with the third section

"oh, you're home. almost didn't hear you," you said when you spotted yunho coming down the stairs. in the past few months, you had learned quite a few habits of his, one being that he could be as silent as a feather at times.

which was a bit scary, but you supposed it was just a natural skill of his.

"of course you didn't. you were humming something while you cooked," yunho stood near the counter, looking around and you muttered a silent curse- no wonder you didn't hear him. "need help?"

"yeah, if you could just set the table," you said and yunho obeyed instantly, taking out the utensils and scooping the dishes while you told him about your day- mail arrived, you befriended a stray cat that has now found home in your backyard, you went shopping for grocery today and got the stuff yunho had requested you to buy for him.

and while you ate, yunho said his thanks for saving him a trip to the grocery store and told you about his day- he went to assist a professor from his previous job in a complicated surgery upon his request. you told him he looked fond of that professor and he admitted that he owed most of his surgery skills to him and he often called him to assist him.

and just like that, you finished your meals and you started clearing the kitchen and washing the dishes while he went to the backyard to bring the laundry inside. it was the weekend and you wondered if yunho would join you in the living room just to hang out or watch something. or would he be too tired and just say goodnight and leave?

he stayed. he slumped down on the couch and took out his phone, probably responding to texts. you silently joined on the other end and turned on your laptop which opened to your document and reminded you of the question that had been looming over your head the entire day. you glanced at yunho but he seemed absorbed in his phone and you sighed- maybe you'll just ask him tomorrow-

"is something the matter?"

he didn't have to be that observant. you straightened. "nothing. just wanted to ask you something related to the book- but it can wait."

"you can ask me, y/n."

"you seem busy and tired, though..." your voice faltered when he shot you with a challenging look.

"never too busy for your weird questions."

"oh," you laughed a little and when he set his phone aside to focus on you, you stifled a satisfactory smile. "okay, so remember what i told you last time? the cop who's also a criminal, he's targeting the main character- the detective now. he finally baits her into entering the abandoned warehouse where she thought she would find some druggies."

"yes, and the warehouse doesn't have much space to run because of the abundance of shelves so when she's looking around, she keeps thinking she's hearing something- which is actually the criminal riling her up and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike."

"yes," you smiled. "now, he's going to attack, and another unfortunate cop who accompanied our detective is going to get killed by him while trying to protect the detective. so that gets the detective all messed up in her head and she's lost her gun but there's a dagger lying on the floor- remember the dagger i showed you for reference?"

yunho nodded and you continued. "the detective aims to hurt the criminal, not kill, but the lines must be blurred so when she is questioned about her motives, she wonders if she actually intended to kill the man."

"because there's the fact that the criminal is her colleague and that could have worsened her anger. she might have actually wanted to kill him," yunho recalls.

"exactly," you shift in your position so your legs are tucked under you. "now... where would the detective stab him? self defense, anger, confusion, all these elements."

yunho hummed in thought, his eyes running all over your body. something you had noticed that whenever he answered one of your questions, he would envision them on you. that might have made you a flustered mess in the beginning when his eyes would fixate on a spot on your body but it didn't really bother you anymore- you supposed as a surgeon, he got lost in vivid imagination or something.

"there's quite a few ways we could achieve that, but i think if you can narrow it down, it might help."

"somewhere near the heart? throat? something that would disarm the criminal immediately," you said.

yunho nodded slowly, his eyes fixated on your neck now and you subconciously adjusted your shirt. he finally met your eyes. "i think this spot might do the trick."

yunho fisted his hand but outstretched the index finger. "suppose this is the tip of your dagger, right? you would want to stab right here," he turned his hand to touch the space between his collarbones. "this spot is tricky because for males and females, it's not the same."

"oh?" you touched that same spot on yourself. "how so?"

"males usually have a thicker clavicle," yunho explained, stretching the collar of his shirt to expose his collarbones. "the gap between the two may be wider but it's definitely easier to stab a man here than a woman."

you touched your own collarbones for reference in confusion and when yunho had enough of your struggling, he scooted closer and touched the space between your collarbones with his finger. "this part. v-shaped, right? it's a bit straighter for men. so if your criminal was a woman, i'd have you stab them... right here," yunho trailed his finger up and dug it in that spot. you nodded. "the clavicle is a bit narrower in females too," he trailed his finger along your collarbones. "and positioned at a more diagonal angle-"

he didn't realise when he started rambling but when he met your eyes, he found them wider than usual and your lips parted, and only then did he realise the proximity between you two. you gulped and he felt that movement on his finger still situated on your skin and his own lips parted in surprise, his mind going black when your gaze fell down there.

and if that damned phone hadn't buzzed repeatedly, he would have done something about you. he definitely would have, ignoring all his strict rules, because there was no way you didn't feel a certain way about him. he was sure you did, especially now. especially when he drew back to check his phone and heard you let out a deep breath. you had been holding your breath all this time.

"i, uh... i have to take this call," he pursed his lips.

"of course," you nodded.

"i hope that cleared your confusion?" yunho dared to ask and when you stifled a smirk, he got his answer.

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

[bonus scene that takes place after the big revelation]

it's been a long time since you woke up feeling like there was a weight on your chest, unable to breathe properly, hair matted to your face and your head spinning.

a nightmare. no-

a memory.

you checked the time- it was almost 4. you shook your head- maybe you should have pushed yourself to stay awake until you passed out so you could have a dreamless sleep. you always slept better when you were tired- not the healthiest habit, but that was how you overcame your sleeping struggles as a teen when your father passed away.

would you have to do this all over again?

you managed to walk to the toilet to wash your face, staring at the sink for the longest time and letting the water run through your hands as if it could wash away the weight of what you had done before finally snapping out of it and turning the tap off, exiting the toilet to go to the kitchen. you took a deep breath and sat yourself on a stool in the kitchen, taking small sips from your glass.

you could not go back to sleep now. not anytime soon.

you briefly wondered when yunho got home- was he home yet? lately, you had been going to sleep at odd times so you didn't run into him much, but you couldn't sleep for long- you would always wake up, just like you did tonight. the nightmares were plaguing your rest hours-

the glass slipped from your hand and crashed on the floor loudly, making you squeal a little. you winced at how loud it sounded in the dead hours of the night and you tried to find a spot on the floor that was not covered with shards- how exactly were you going to put your feet on the floor with all the glass around you-

"y/n? is everything okay?"

you sighed internally. "did i wake you up? i'm sorry, the glass just slipped."

yunho turned on a light and surveyed the mess. "stay right there, okay? don't move- i'll get the broom."

you nodded and waited until he started cleaning the shards from around you, making sure he got everything and then running to your room quickly to get your slippers. you thanked him, taking the broom and dustpan from him this time, spotting a tiny shard at the other end of the kitchen.

"were you asleep? did i wake you up?"

"i got home like, an hour ago," yunho said. "was just scrolling a bit. are you okay, though? you look pale."

"yeah, i'm okay," you put the broom in a corner and washed your hands. when you dried them and turned, you noticed yunho watching you intently. "what?"

"did you have a nightmare or something?"

he always knew. somehow, he always saw through you.

"is it that obvious?" you let out a short laugh. "do i look like a mess?"

"i mean..." yunho stifled a smile. "you usually do look like a hot mess..."

"lovely to hear that," you nodded and he grinned, stepping forward and encasing you in his arms as he peered down at you.

"won't you talk to me about it?"

"what's there to talk about?" you cocked your head and yunho's heart sank a little at the way your eyes went blank. "i killed a man, yunho. again. of course i will have to live with the consequences now."

yunho licked his dry lips and he knew you had zoned out at the way your gaze was fixated on his face. "can i ask you something?"

it took you a moment to come back to your senses and nod. yunho took a deep breath. "do you regret killing the man who almost killed your father?"

"everything went wrong after i did that-"

"but if you could go back in time, would you change that?" yunho asked.

"no." you were sure you would make the same decision. "because if i had not done that, he would have killed all of us."

"so... do you regret killing the man from a few days ago?"

"not at all," your response was quick. "he was going to kill you. i would have done the same, no matter who it was."

yunho brought his hand to your cheek and caressed it, his eyes full of love. you continued, "but that doesn't change the fact that i have killed people."

"i know," yunho said. "you will have to live with that for the rest of your life. it won't get easier, it will always hang like a noose over your head. but if you keep all of this to yourself... it will only get harder, y/n."

"i just... i don't know what to do," you exhaled a deep breath, looking away. "i feel so helpless. you've done so much to help me, hell, you almost took the blame for it, but still..."

"all these feelings are normal," yunho took your hand and started guiding you to the couch in the living room. you both settled down close to each other with yunho's hand on your shoulder, his thumb caressing your neck. "but if it's troubling you to the point of nightmares... why didn't you tell me earlier, y/n? if there's anyone who can relate to you..."

"it's you, i know," you smiled a little. "and i'm okay, for the most part, but for a while that night, i really thought it was all over, and that scared me so much, yunho."

"it's okay-"

"it's not the remorse that's eating me up, see?" you let out a short laugh. "it's... the fact that it's not the remorse eating me up but my selfishness when i was scared that you were going to take the blame and i would have to pick up the pieces of what was left all by myself. that your friends would hate me for the rest of our lives. that you would rot away in prison, like my father did, and i would never get to touch you again. it's wrong, isn't it? that this is the product of my nightmares and i don't need to sleep to feel this? does this make me a monster, yunho?"

if yunho could tell you how he felt at that moment, perhaps you would cower away, but he just had to ask you something. "do you still think you're the monster when i'm right in front of you?"

you looked at his unbelievably soft gaze and furrowed, somewhat confused brows. the dim lights from the kitchen softened half of his face, but even the shadows on his face didn't change who he was. you found his hand on your neck and held it, pressing your lips against his palm.

"i have killed more people than i can count, y/n," yunho continued, his voice pained. "but if that means that the world is somehow safer, i will continue down this road no matter how weary i get. does that make me a bad person or a good person? i realised long ago that i needed to stop categorising myself into one category, however... i sure as hell wouldn't call myself a good person," he let out a short laugh and you shook your head.

"if you weren't a good person, you wouldn't have tried to take the blame for me that night. and on that note... what were you thinking when you did that? without hesitation? can you imagine how wrong it could have gone if you got caught at that time-"

yunho leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss and thought it took you by surprise initially, you quickly melted in his grasp, your heart fluttering uncontrollably at the way he held and kissed you. when he drew back, he lingered for a few moments before looking at you.

"i would have done that anyway, no matter the consequences," he told you and you smiled sadly. "for you... i would do it again. so will you listen to me? will you let me help you?"

you nodded and he pulled you in for a hug. you scooted closer, almost sitting in his lap as you wrapped your arms around his waist, fisting the material of his sweatshirt.

"i know how hard it is to live with what we have done, no matter how we feel about it or think we feel about it," he caressed your head. "we think we have it all figured out. we think we'll be okay but really... it's still a human life, isn't it?"

you nodded- he was absolutely right.

"i harboured so much negativity in myself when my parents were killed. i thought if i would face their killer, i would not hesitate to kill him, but i did, and it cost me my sanity for a good while. if it weren't for hongjoong and mingi helping me figure out everything that was going on... i would have been so lost. i still think i am- the twisted, monstrous part in me is okay with what i do-"

"please don't call yourself a monster," you whispered. "you're anything but."

yunho embraced you tighter. "thank you for believing in me, but you should also tell yourself that."

and that's when it all made sense, what yunho was trying to tell you. it wasn't okay, it probably never will be, and it never should be. that's what you have to live with, and that's what will ultimately differentiate you from the actual monsters in this world.

"how do i convince myself i'm not the same as them?"

"that's what i'm here for," yunho laughed and you joined, drawing away from him. "but actually... i have a suggestion for you."

and that's how he told you all about mingi, the psychiatrist and the therapist who would never judge you no matter how dark your deepest thoughts and desires were. the person who would be able to understand your situation better than anyone else in this world since he was also a part of what yunho did. and most importantly, the person who wouldn't convince you to be someone you weren't. someone who wouldn't put you high on a pedestal or push you to your lowest. you adored the look on yunho's face when he told you all about his friend and you thought that mingi must be an admirable person if yunho believed in him so much.

and that night, he made a vow to you- he would always be there for you. he would be there to help you with the nightmares because he wished someone was there for him too. he would make sure you get proper sleep, and how couldn't you, if you were in his arms, safe and secure? how couldn't you, if you were showered in kisses before you fell asleep? how couldn't you, if you were enveloped in his scent that felt like home now?

the nightmares wouldn't easily stop but at least you wouldn't feel alone now, and that was all that mattered.

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

[something romantic but unhinged bc man now that i'm writing guerrilla again i wish i made it even longer LMAO]

[mdni!] [and do not interact if you're not comfortable with dark themes]

"yunho, what if your dark fantasies take over while we're having a moment and you kill me or something?"

yunho almost choked on the last sips of hot chocolate you had made him and he put the cup down on the table before shutting his eyes, inhaling and then opening them to glare at you.

"what stupid book are you reading now, babe?"

you pursed your lips in guilty admission. "you don't need to know that."

it had been a good few months into your relationship with yunho now, and he knew to expect odd questions like these way before that. when you first moved in, the questions had been related to your crime fiction wip but now that you were comfortable with him...

too comfortable, he thought. you couldn't ask something like this while you were seated so casually, defenceless across the couch with your legs in his lap while you used your tablet probably to edit your current draft.

"but do you think it happens? do you have moments like those when you... you know."

"when i what?" yunho smirked. he could play this game.

you immediately knew the mood had changed when his eyes glinted playfully. one thing about yunho was that no matter how strange or ridiculous your questions were, he would always answer.

"i won't judge you, i promise," you laughed a little. "but do you ever want to? or do you think others do?"

"words. i need you to say it out loud," yunho sat back cockily while his hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it almost suggestively.

and you knew it could only go one way from here. one thing about yunho was that no matter how strange or ridiculous your questions were, he would always answer-

practically. whenever he could, practically.

"if you're about to see if you feel like killing me right now, no thanks. and for your information, i can fight back."

"can you?" yunho scoffed.

"i've killed two men."

yunho laughed mockingly at that. "two. such a cute number."

your heart sank at that but you tried to lighten the situation. "okay, yeah, i should probably stop reading stupid books-"

"do you want me to check and see, though?" yunho cocked his head dangerously, removing his hand from your thigh only to hold your hand and pull you closer.

"geez, you really take answering my questions so seriously," you teased. of course he would never hurt you, but the thought of where this could lead to excited you in too many ways and you internally slapped yourself. "i guess i'll find the answer if i live to tell the tale?"

yunho pulled you properly in his lap, one hand stationed across your legs to keep you close to him while the other hand stayed on your neck, his thumb caresseing your adam's apple. you loved putting yunho in this headspace, when his gaze darkened as he thought about all the ways he would mess with you.

"do you know how easy it is to take someone's life if you press this wrong?" yunho pushed your adam's apple with his thumb just a fraction. "even just a little pressure can make it difficult to breathe."

you twisted away from him to put your tablet away and then put your own hand on his neck to feel his adam's apple. you pressed it a little just like he had demonstrated and nodded in understanding.

"it's ironic then, isn't it?" yunho looked up at you. "that some of the most sensitive spots on a human are around there?"

before you could ask him to elaborate, he pulled you closer to kiss you on the side of your neck and you gasped when you realised where this was going. he didn't stop there, though, no. he flipped you effortlessly so your back was flat on the couch and he was on top of you. before you could process anything, he was back to peppering kisses along your neck, planting a rather long one right on your adam's apple before finding your sweet spot and continuing to kiss and suck there.

your back arched in pleasure when one of his hands went to hold your waist but found your bare skin instead, your shirt having ridden up. you squirmed under him, one hand at the nape of his neck. when he was satisfied after earning a loud moan from you, he drew back to admire the bruising mark on your neck.

and then he grinned at your breathless form.

"that was so out of the blue," you laughed.

"i'm nowhere near done though," yunho kissed your temple, trailing his lips down along the angles of your face and then kissing your jaw sweetly. you brought your limp arm up to fist his shirt and crash your lips on his because he should stop teasing you already. yunho smiled into the kiss before responding enthusiastically and you tasted chocolate on his lips which made you hum in satisfaction.

yunho took that as his cue to escalate things further. while he kissed you, he let his hand travel down your body until it reached the waistband of your shorts. he broke the kiss to look at you and make sure you were okay and when you nodded, he pulled them down a bit to slide his hand down and he looked at you in surprise.

"you're soaking wet," he laughed a little. "tell me, which part turned you on?"

you slapped his hand and he laughed louder, pecking your lips and drawing away to lock eyes with you just in time to see your reaction when he slid a finger along your slit. he captured your gasp in another kiss and soon, things got all heated up. the sound of your moans were swallowed in his kisses as he slid two fingers knuckle-deep inside you and started thrusting them, curling them inside to earn loud gasps from you.

"so responsive," he praised, trailing kisses down your neck again and finding another spot to suck at. it was good that you mostly stayed at home, you thought. he had a thing with marking you and you could only imagine how much a hassle it would have been to cover it on a daily basis.

"yunho," you gasped when his thumb started circling your clit. it hadn't even been that long that you started getting more physical but he sure knew all your buttons. "please."

"please what?" he breathed against your adam's apple, reminding you once again how this all started.

"i'm so close," you moaned.

"already?" he tsk-ed, kissing the protruding spot on your neck. "how badly do you want it?"

you cupped his face and kissed him in answer, your tongues colliding in the passionate makeout which only sent another wave of arousal through your body and you shivered against him. he knew you were close so he drew apart and made you rest your head against the cushion again.

"you asked me about my dark fantasies, right?" yunho almost whispered and you nodded, anticipating what was next. "not the darkest fantasy, but a good start- choking."

you frowned- choking was pretty common... no?

"there's a very subtle difference in choking for pain and choking for pleasure," yunho explained, his hand around your neck now, his other hand still rubbing your clit in circles, his fingers pumping inside you slowly. "and sure, choking is common, but sweetheart..."

yunho pressed the sides of your throat for a second experimentally and you gasped. "feel that? see how everything you feel inside you becomes heightened but your senses grow numb?"

"yeah," you breathed, squirming under him- you were almost there. "pleasure."

"and if i pressed like this," he said, gently squeezing from the front- so gently that you almost didn't feel anything. "it would be to kill you. how faint is the line between pain and pleasure, y/n?"

you didn't realise when yunho sped up his fingers thrusting inside you but you were almost out of breath now and when he flicked your clit and provided the friction it needed to get over the edge, right when you could feel your orgasm beginning to wash over you, he leaned in to whisper in your ear-

"do you think i have dark fantasies like that?"

and you almost wouldn't have heard him because he pressed the sides of your throat, choking you right as your orgasm washed over you and your vision darkened, your back arching against him. everything was so heightened- yunho on top of you, his fingers inside you, his hand palming your clit, the other hand squeezing your throat like a choker necklace, his lips on your temple in a kiss, his thighs caging you, but the most heightened of all-

his question, the itch in your brain yet to be scratched. it clouded your thoughts as you took deep breaths to recover from the orgasm, as he kissed you everywhere and drew back to clean his fingers with tissues.

"so..." you breathed. "you won't be answering that, will you?"

he only smirked. "answering it would kill all the fun."

#deleted scene plus two bonus scenes who dis #and the smut that never made it in guerrilla LMAO #might have went overboard but who cares i needed to get this out anyway to move on #fic: guerrilla #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho smut #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

hey can i request a fic where hotch comes into work with hickeys littering his neck(with or without realising) and the team teases him for it?

Btw love your work!!! <3

This is what he gets for letting you readjust his tie. His collar had been crisp and perfectly placed when he'd glanced in the mirror, but you'd loosened his tie before leaving to press kisses to his throat that were supposed to be quick and chaste, and ended up being anything but. He hasn't thought twice about the state of his neck since he'd left, distracted and hazy by the kiss you'd shared just before he'd walked out the door. It took him the entire ride to work to get his boner under control, and when he walks into the building he pushes the last of his untimely fantasies into the back of his brain. It's not Y/N time now, it's work time, and he needs to act accordingly.

He meets Garcia in the elevator, who greets him, then snickers with an, 'oop!'. He's not sure why, but he sees her shift on her heels and presumes she's tripped slightly.

"You alright?" He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, frowning worriedly.

"Uh, yes. Sir. I'm fine." She grins, smile growing despite her eyes being locked on his. He's utterly confused by her behavior, but then again, he's often confused by her behavior.

They walk together into the office, but don't speak. He holds the door out for her, and she lingers in the bullpen instead of heading for her lair.

"Everyone," She calls, and Hotch hesitates to head towards his office, "Hotch is here."

His team members glance up from their paperwork, then straighten in their seats with shit-eating grins. Reid looks slightly horrified, and Derek nearly chokes on a sip of coffee.

"Garcia," Hotch murmurs, "Why are you announcing my arrival? I'm here every morning."

"I just wanted everyone to know," She smiles, "Today's a special day."

"Why is today special?" He takes the bait, and Rossi answers for her.

"Because we'll probably get off early," Dave teases, "You look like you're in a good mood today."

"I would be," JJ snorts, "So, you saw Jack's babysitter last night?"

"Jack's- Jack's babysitter!" Garcia gushes, and Prentiss laughs, "Oh, wow."

Aaron narrows his eyes at the group, "What are you talking about?"

"Here you go, sir." JJ hands over a compact mirror with powder packed beneath it, "It's not your shade, but it'll have to do."

He takes the mirror from her like it's personally offended him. He's not used to being out of the loop, and when he glares at the offending item, he notices a dark purple splotch by his collar that clicks everything into place.

"Oh, there it is!" Derek jeers, watching his face shift from disapproving, to surprised, to mortified, to livid, "That was priceless, we should've filmed that."

"None of you are getting off early today," Hotch snaps, shoving the compact mirror back into JJ's hand as they let loose. There's cheers, whoops, laughter floating around the bullpen, and he turns his back on it to storm towards his office, "In fact, I want you all working overtime tonight!"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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reiderwriter · 4 months

Note

Hi there! It's me :"> again I read that you're closing your request soon and I just want to put another in before the deadline haha But by no mean you should put more pressure on yourself please take all the time you need, I'm always here happily waiting while enjoy reading all of the fabulous writing you had for other requests <3 Much love to your work <3

I have a request for s smut fic when the BAU was called in for a case: the victims were workers at the local bars/restaurants, the bau!reader recognised one of the bars the unsub frequently target is the one she used to work at as bartender/mixologist while putting herself through school and asked to be the undercover while other agents supervise. After successfully closing the case, the BAU decided to celebrate at said bar and the owner was happy to let the reader personally make your friends any cocktails outside of the menu.

The reader then learned about all the mildly irritations and possessive feelings softdom!Spencer had while watching people hitting on you behind the bar, but all of that can be solved with a (almost criminally) 3-sugar-cube level of sweet of a cocktail the reader personally made for him hiding an ungodly amount of alcohol which made the night a lot more interesting ;)

I'm sorry if all of my requests are soo long I know you want to have as much details as possible but please lemme know if you feel like it's too much haha Happy writing!! :">

A/N: Thank you for your request! I was partly inspired by this post to help me out with some of the drinks orders, so go check it out for more character headcannoms!

Warnings: NSFW, soft dom! Spencer, spanking, semi-public sex, jealousy, slight breeding kink/ creampie, thigh fucking etc. 18+ Minors DNI

It had been a good few years since you quit the bartending job that put you through college, so you didn't realise just how much you'd missed it.

You thought it was the universe intervening when a case popped up in your college town, and the bar you'd spent every weekend in for nearly three years straight from the end of your undergrad to the first years of your masters degree was at the dead centre of Spencer Reid's geographical profile.

You knew the unsub had been hunting from bars, and it took only a few nights of surveillance to catch his scent, and one more of a simple cover to get the guy.

You'd taken up your spot once again, slipping easily back into making cocktails and pouring pints of beer on tap - a skill you were regretfully slow to learn but happy to see stayed with you even in your brief retirement.

You busted the bar while your coworkers tried to look inconspicuous sitting around as customers. Diligently, you served them mocktails and alcohol free beer ad regulars clapped you on the back, greeting you like an old friend as you worked to catch a killer.

JJ was the bait, and you were glad, for once, that it wasn't you, even if that thought made you feel guilty. She slipped out with a crash, and all eyed were on the man that followed her quietly to the alleyway out back.

He practically arrested himself. All in all, it had taken maybe three days to catch the guy, and you'd never been so happy to have had to work a double shift to do it.

“Y/N, if this FBI thing doesn't work for you, I'd be glad to have you back behind the bar. These college students just aren't what they used to be.” Your ex-boss grinned at you, indulging in his own glass of whiskey now that the case was closed.

He'd graciously invited your entire team to spend the rest of the evening at the bar celebrating (for at least a drink or two before his wife came to collect him). You were shocked when Hotch took him up on the offer, but happily stayed behind the bar mixing up the drinks.

“Okay, now that we've found out you're this magic mixologist, you have got to make us personal cocktails. I want to see how drunk you can get me, Y/L/N.” Emily laughed from the corner, finishing the last dregs of her virgin piña colada.

“My dear Emily, it is not the mixologist job to get you drunk, it's the mixologist job to keep you sober for as long as possible so you keep buying drinks.”

“No, come on kid, I'm intrigued as well. I'm not a cocktail guy but you've been pouring like a woman possessed tonight. Help.me out here, Spencer, hasn't she been on fire?”

Spencer's eye caught yours and your heart skipped a beat when he gave you a small smile. He'd been quiet all night, and you felt a little regretful that you'd made him stay so long in a place he wasn't entirely comfortable with. But he was still here, and surprisingly, still drinking, nursing the beer that your old boss had served them all when they'd returned from the crime scene.

“Mixology is an interesting field of study. When you think about it, it's practically chemistry.”

“I like to think of it as alchemy,” you grinned at him, enjoying the way he could turn anything into something more complicated and mathematical than it is. “Because one sip of one of my cocktails will have you thinking you've unlocked the secret of immortality.”

“Okay, if that's how drunk we're getting tonight then I'm calling home now,” JJ laughed standing from her chair and already dialling the numbers.

“Okay - here we go.” You grabbed the bottle of vodka from the counter and started, keeping your eyes focused on Reid as much as you could.

–X–

After two hours and about 5 rounds of cocktails, you'd nearly defeated the entire team. Your ex-boss had thrown you the keys half an hour earlier and called himself a cab, leaving you behind to close up just like old times.

Hotchner and Rossi had given in after two drinks each, apparently old and wise enough to know just how much alcohol was in an Old Fashioned and a Negroni each.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Emily had mocked them on the way out, but two drinks later and she was asleep in the back of a cab having been carried out by both JJ and Morgan.

You'd used the good gin in her Aviation cocktail, and it was only a matter of time before she ended up peacefully sleeping the week away.

The only member of the team left standing was, surprisingly again, Spencer.

You'd gone simple with his Espresso Martini, though you'd made a big show and dance about adding twice as much brown sugar syrup than the recipe required.

“A sweet cocktail for the man who drinks the sweetest coffee known to man.” He'd brushed his hand across your fingers every time you'd passed him a refill, and you'd felt the familiar jolts of anticipation pass through you with each shared glance.

Your old boss had even noticed that you were ‘sweet on that little coworker of yours,’ and you'd had to do your best to stop yourself from openly flirting with him whilst he was sat there at the bar.

You'd done it for tips every single shift, not caring about the consequences, buy with Spencer, you so desperately wanted there to be consequences that you never so much as tried.

“We should pack up and head home, Spence.” You said, cleaning up the final glass of Mai Tai Derek had left behind, but when you turned around to see him, he was gone.

More accurately, he'd moved to your side of the bar and was sliding his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

You gasped his name like a prayer, not expecting his cold fingers to curl under your shirt as he buried his head in your shoulder.

“Spencer! What's… what are…”

“Let me hold you.” He didn't say much more than that, but he didn't need to say more. You'd already.relaxed into his touch, eyes shutting so you could focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

“You're good at this,” he mumbled, words slightly slurred. “Everyone was watching you, they all wanted you to pour their drinks.”

You listened to each word of his voice fighting off confusion. Who was everybody? There hadn't been another customer in the bar since you'd made the arrest.

“The old men in the corner, they looked down your top when you picked something up for them. I heard them talking about it, how they thought about stuffing a couple of one's right here,” his hand trailed up to your breasts and you gasped, “like you were some stripper.”

His hands were slowly caressing you as he stood, chest pressed against your back, and you felt desire flood between your legs.

“Spencer, you're drunk, we should get you back to the motel.”

“My blood alcohol level should be around 0.11, so yes, legally I am drunk. If you want me back at the motel, be my guest, but I don't think I can keep my hands off of you tonight, Y/N.”

His words were blunt, delivered the same way he usually talked about case details, or books he'd read. There was nothing in it to indicate he'd meant to turn your world upside down just like that.

His hand had moved under your bra now, and you snapped back to reality, grabbing his hand and halting his movements momentarily as you craned your neck to look at him.

“Spencer, you're not in your right mind, you're going to regret this-” you didn't get to finish the sentence as he cut you off, pushing his lips into yours softly. With each second, his passion grew, until the two of you were caught in a battle of tongues, saliva dripping down your chin as you cared about nothing else but the pleasure you found in each other's mouths.

“The only thing,” he whispered between kisses. “That I'm going to regret, is if I let you walk me out of that door without showing you how much I want to possess every inch of you.”

His words were insistent but there was a question hidden in his movements. He'd withdrawn slightly, giving you enough space to turn him down should you want to.

You didn't.

Instead, you let a hand run up the back of his neck to his hair until you were pulling him down into you, stepping back into the warmth of his broad chest as you opened up to him.

Your other hand relinquished his, letting him explore your chest further and doing much of the same as you tried your very best to twist in your spot to get a better hold of him.

He was holding firm though, despite everything he'd drank, and had pushed you once again against the counter, hand moving between exploring your ass cheeks, and placing your hand firmly underneath you on the table so you could stabilise your position.

He worked his lips down your neck, prying your other hand out of his hair and placing it parallel to the first, before pulling your hips back slightly and encouraging you to arch your back.

You only realised you'd assumed a position for spanking when the first blow landed on your ass.

It was soft, all things considered, and he was still busy bruising your neck that you almost thought you'd imagined it.

The next one was harder though. It was real.

“Spencer!” You gasped as he stroked a hand over your asscheeks.

“Shhhhhhhh s'okay. You have a beautiful ass, I'm just making it prettier.”

His hands fumbled over your pants zipper, and then pulled them down to your knees as he continued stroking your ass and licking your neck.

The material limited your movements, trapping your knees together as he delivered one more blow. The skin to skin contact was too much and you let out a sinful moan, surprised at how loud you were suddenly managing to be.

You'd never been spanked before, never even thought about it, but something about Spencer's hands on you, the lingering scent of alcohol in the air had every hair on your body standing in excitement.

You heard Spencer unzip his own pants and were a little regretful that you didn't get the honour. You wanted to see him hold him in your hand, take him into your mouth and play with him until you knew just how he worked. But your back was still to him, and he wasn't giving you the space you needed to turn around and catch a glimpse.

“Every man in this bar tonight wanted to be where I am right now,” he whispered into your hair as he kissed the crown of your head, and then pushed your panties aside and ran himself along the lips of your cunt.

It was a night of sounds - the zippers, his whispers, your moans - bit you still weren't expecting to be able to hear your arousal.

It was erotic, near pornographic how wet his spanking had made you, and he let out small groans of appreciation as he gathered your juices on his cock.

He didn't try to breech you just yet, but rocked his cock between your thighs and cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you hooked, but nowhere near where you needed him to get you.

“Every man who was in here wanted you, and I got you. Right?” He asked again, practically rutting against your cunt.

“Y-Yes, Spencer.”

“Yes, sir.” He corrected, and you gasped as his hand struck your ass again, dangerously close to where his hips joined yours.

“Yes, sir.”

“Be a good girl for me, baby. I want to take care of you.”

With those words, he lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance and slipped in.

With your knees still locked in place by your pants, it was really up to Spencer to control the pace. You didn't spare a second for the thought that had you been completely naked with a better range of motion that he still wouldn't relinquish this quiet control of you.

With one hand on your hip, and the other curled around to reach your clit as you arched your back against him, it wasn't long before he was setting a vigorous pace.

It wasn't that he was thrusting particularly fast, or that he was doing it ridiculously hard, like some men who knew no better tried. It was the combination of how far he was able to reach with his careful concentration on your pleasure.

You felt him speed up once before quickly drawing himself back to the even tempo, doing his best to not get lost in you.

His fingers traced your cunt in a slow figure eight as first, before experimenting with different movements, shapes, words until he'd been rewarded by your cunt clenching around his cock as you came all over it.

You gasped in shock, and flushed, so shocked it took only that long.

Instead of congratulating himself on getting you off though, he used your orgasm to inform himself of what you liked, what you so desperately needed from his fingers and his cock.

And most importantly, he didn't stop.

Even as your body twitched and spasmed around his cock, he kept up his wrist movements, keeping your body warmed up as he finally took his turn.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he whispered into your ear.

“I want this so badly, Sir, I need your cock pumping in and- ahhh out of me.”

“Tell me how nice my cock feels,” he again ordered and you willingly obeyed.

“Your cock is perfect, it's so big and warm, like it was made just for me.”

“Good girl, now tell me how much you want me to shoot my cum inside of you.”

Your mouth went dry as you choked out a moan, his pace getting rougher and rougher with each thrust. You hadn't heard him correctly, surely, your brain was imagining things.

But he prompted you with a slight tap to your face, a slap that wouldn't leave any mark.

“You don't want my cum all over this bar, do you? It would be a shame for your ex boss to fail his hygiene inspection.”

“Cum in me! God, please cum in me.”

He gripped you tight around your waist as he finally pushed himself over the edge, filling you with his seed and keeping you pinned in his arms until he was sure that none of it would escape.

“I'm glad you agreed, because I wasn't asking,” he said, chest still slightly heaving as he rode out his orgasm, lower body twitching in its sensitivity.

When he finally did pull out, he'd spent so long inside you, cockwarming, that not much of his cum slipped out. He cleaned you up with a clean dishcloth you pointed to on the counter, and pulled your pants back up, quickly manoeuvring his up too.

After a brief moment of silence, you finally turned to look at him, melting into his arms again as you took in his fucked out expression.

He stroked your head quietly for a few minutes, before pulling back from your hug.

“This bar doesn't have CCTV, does it?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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starzwithapen · 4 months

Text

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

#starzwrites #WORKING ON VIVA REQS RNNN ^w^#this was already in our drafts since silver wrote it so Im posting jt rn while i work on Viva stuff yippeee !!!#trolls #trolls x reader #john dory x reader #trolls john dory x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 days

Text

Winter's King 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: double chapter day?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The summer sun brings little warmth to the castle of Debray. Those left behind in the shadow of their lord’s march to war, bide their time with baited breaths and unspoken worries. The duchess sinks into her cups, a nectar to her already sharp tongue, as her daughter buries herself in her wardrobe.

Lady Jazlene hands you dress after dress, demanding a stitch here or there, only to snatch it back and have you cut the cloth of another to alter yet a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth. Strips of fabric and loose buttons litter the drawing room table as you and Merinda put your needles to work.

“Motherrrr,” Jazlene swirls around, swaying her hips back and forth, “it has been a fortnight already.”

“Your father will return soon,” Lady Rezlyn slurs before she empties her goblet. She has no husband to chide her away from excess. “Never fear, dearest.”

“That is not—mother, what am I to do? I have no wedding dress!”

“You have no mind,” Rezlyn snickers, “you will have only rags by the time you decide.”

“Hm,” Jazlene approaches the table with her hands on her hips, “mother, that gown with the gold lace. The one you wore last solstice--”

“My gold lace,” Rezlyn sneers, “no!”

“But mother. I only want the lace. You can have it re-trimmed. It would look much nicer with pearls,” Jazlene whines, “do you not understand? I am to marry a king. I cannot look as some simple countryside daughter.”

Rezlyn clucks and shakes her head, “if it hushes your endless moaning, have the lace.”

Jazlene gives a triumphant grin and turns to you. She grabs your arm and the needle catches in the fabric, slipping from your grasp, “go fetch mother’s dress. It is rosy satin.”

“And wine! Bring more wine,” Rezlyn interjects.

Jazlene rolls her eyes and flicks you away with her fingers. You hastily retreat as Merinda grimaces at her labour. Your fingers hurt from the endless hemming and seaming and you’ve noticed she’s jabbed herself more than once as the noble daughter changes course back and forth.

You flit from the chamber and sweep down to the kitchens. The descent into the cellar is lit by only the candle in your hand, the flame wobbling dangerously before you. You find a bottle of the duchess’ preferred and climb back into the light.

You snuff the tallow and quickly press on you. You climb the stairs again but falter as the wail of a horn breaks the afternoon din. You spin and turn to the window. Several other servants cluster beneath the arched opening as they try to see the horizon. The blast comes again, three in quick succession, followed by a long blare.

The noise of chain and mail comes from the courtyard below. The few men left behind to man the castle walls are quick to action. You can see the flap of banners and nothing more between the other curious bodies.

“Who is it? Enemy soldiers?” Waldon wonders.

“I cannot see, my eyes are dim,” Margite shields her vision from the sun as leans over the sill. Their chatter swirls at the approach.

“It is them! The Lord’s banner!” Stellan exclaims, “I can make out the sun and the sword on the banner. And the Winter King’s white crown.”

“They return! They return!” Another cries out, “are they victorious?”

You shuffle away. You forget about the golden lace and return to the drawing room. You enter and look down at the bottle in your hands. You blink, trying to recall what you were about to do. You set the wine on the table near the duchess as Jazlene seizes your other arm.

“Where is the dress?” She snarls, “ugh, are you so useless--”

“They’ve returned,” you utter cluelessy.

“They...” Jazlene begins.

“The king and your father, my lady,” you explain, “we saw them through the window. I thought to say so before I went to your mother’s wardrobe--”

“Quiet!” She shoves you away, “I need a different dress. The crimson slit with ivory. Yes, yes, now!”

She pushes you again and you stumble to the door.

“And slippers,” she calls after you, “Merinda! Get over here.”

You scurry back out and to Lady Jazlene’s chamber. You enter and sort through the mess of her clothing strewn and heaped about. You find the red and ivory dress and a pair of slippers of a similar hue. You are certain to bring a selection of jewels and pins to assuage any further remonstrance.

In the drawing room, Jazlene has Merinda fixing her hairpins. You approach with your armful and lay it on the table. Outside the walls, you can hear the chaos unfurling. You can hardly keep the noises straight as cogs grind, ropes groan, and the noblewoman carry on their tittering.

You help Jazlene step into the dress, Merinda holding the other side. As you work at the sleeves and skirts, she fidgets around.

“The king? The king is with them for sure?” She breaths.

You nod, “yes, my lady. His banner--”

“Mother! They have won. They must have.”

“Do not be too presumptuous,” the other lady rises and nears the table, snatching up a string of pearls, “come. Put these around my neck.”

There’s banging and knocking and footfalls and voices yelling. The walls cannot keep out the rising fervour. Horse hooves and rusty hinges. They are close, in the castle or more. You pull tight the laces of the dress as Merinda clasps the pearls around the duchess’ thick neck.

There is someone before the door. A shadow darkens below it for just an instant before it opens. No permission is asked as Lord Dustan clatters in. His eyes is swollen near shut.

“Daughter, wife, you must come down to the--”

Heavy, steady steps follow him. You continue to weave the laces through the eyes, going as fast as you can.

“Father, I am not dressed. I am not ready to receive--” Jazlene protests.

Dustan looks behind him and backs away from the doorframe. King Geralt fills it with his large figure, a dark cut along his hairline though he hardly seems bothered by it. Otherwise, he is untouched, unblemished. You knot the laces as you peek over Jazlene’s shoulder and his gold eyes shimmer in the low lantern light.

“Your highness,” Jazlene gasps and drops to a curtsy. You stand, dumbfounded for an instant before you bend your neck and your knee to his status. “We were not warned of your coming. I pray you have tasted victory,” she raises her head slowly, “and we may wed in celebration to ring your reign in the Summer Kingdom.”

He grumbles as his eyes search the space. Dull yet vibrant at the same time. He tilts his head as his jaw squares, “a king’s wife mustn’t fret so much about silks and wine,” he growls as he breaks the threshold. He marches to the rigid high back chair and lowers himself, “victory is mine but that does not mark the end of my efforts. I have no kingdom until all that which has broken is repaired.”

“Certainly, your highness, and I will be by your side to help you amend what has been injured. As your loyal wife and queen,” she wilts as she wobbles just a little, “I am only so happy to see you alive and returned.” She rises as straight as she can and sweeps over to him, pushing out her chest, “but not unharmed. Your highness, you have been wounded.”

She goes to touch the gash along his forehead and he motions her away with a flat palm.

“It is not dire,” he insists, “Lord Dustan, where is your bishop?”

“I sent away for him. He will come,” the duke avows.

“The bishop?” Jazlene looks to her mother.

“For the vows, precious,” Dustan assures.

“The vows? Now? Today? But father--”

“I haven’t time to wait around on paltry feasts and drunken hordes,” the king insists.

“But-- but--” Jazlene stammers, “I am a queen, I should have a wedding.”

“You are still but a duke’s daughter,” the king snaps, “a wedding you will have. Let us swear the words as was arranged. Then we must away.”

“Away? Away?” Jazlene echoes again.

“Take this parrot away from me,” King Geralt barks as he slams his fist into the arm of chair, “I tire of her squawking. When the bishop arrives, fetch me and I shall keep the oath I made.”

The edge in his voice cannot be missed on that single word. He is a man who would not break a promise given, not the like the one cowering by the door. You glance up slowly as you notice Jazlene quaking. You can tell by her fists that she is not so much afraid anymore as she is angered.

“Daughter,” Rezlyn girds and touches her daughter’s arm, “a wife should learn first to obey. Let us go paint your lips and await the bishop.”

“This cannot be...” Jazlene hisses.

“Quiet,” Lord Dustan snaps, “you want to marry, you marry as you are told. Out.”

Lady Rezlyn keeps the duke from grabbing his daughter, instead steering her through the door herself. Merinda follows first and you trail after. The king grumbles, “Debray, leave a maid. She may fetch me that wine.”

“My lord,” Lord Dustan points you back tersely, “the wine.”

“Leave me,” King Geralt demands of his fair-weather lord.

Dustan retreats and shuts the door heavily. You turn and cross to the table where you left the sealed bottle. You put your hand around the neck and lift it. You face the king and cross to him with your head low.

“Your highness, would you like a goblet?” You ask.

“I am not interested in imbibing,” he reaches beneath his mail and pulls free a grey handkerchief, “pour it on this.”

You crack the wax seal of the bottle and grab the bulbous head of the cork. You wiggle it but cannot dislodge it. You struggle with it and he wraps his large hand around the pregnant bottom.

“Little maid,” he slips it from your grasp and puts the kerchief in your hand.

The uncorks it with only his thumb, flicking free the stopper, and he reaches out to you. You press the cloth to rim and he tilts it slightly, wetting the fabric. He pulls it away and reaches to place it on the floor. You look at him curiously. He leans forward and runs his index below the gash in his head. You get his meaning and daintily press the damp cloth to his head.

“The alcohol cleanses,” he says as he leans heavier into your touch.

“It looks rather painful, your highness.”

You wince at your own careless words. You don’t know why you said anything at all. He sits in silence, breathing slowly. At last, he sits back and looks at you. You drop your hand and your chin.

“Might I get you anything else, your highness?” You offer as you fold the cloth into a tight wad.

“Tell me, how do you fare?”

“Your highness?” You peek up at him through your lashes.

“Are you well? Have you rested? Are you fed?” He prompts.

You raise your head, surprised by his questions.

“I am well, your highness. I have a roof above me.”

His cheek ticks, “same as you were. Same as I remember.”

He puts his head back and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply. You waver before him, unsure what to do next.

“I don’t mind the cold. My land is frigid most days but I felt a true shiver out there on that road. Even Roach could not ease it.”

You watch him, awaiting an order, not so well attuned to conversation. More often than not, a response is not warranted, just action. He gives you little direction though he is a man who easily commands.

“My horse. Stinky steed,” he muses as he keeps his eyes closed, “valiant nonetheless.” He lets out another heavy exhale, “will you mind the door? Wake me when the bishop arrives should I doze?”

“As you wish, your highness,” you go to the door, taking your usual stance beside it.

He is still. The amber light of the lantern limns his large figure as he reclines in the stiff chair. He does not move but a man who has ridden to war has slept on worse. You cannot tell if he truly slumbers but you know it is not appropriate to stare.

You remain in silence. It isn’t so bad to the duchess and her daughter. Almost serene if not for the tension of the man’s presence. A king. A wintry figure with his icy hair and colder demeanour. You do not envy Jazlene, he will be a rigid husband. She will not bowl him over as her mother does the duke.

You listen beyond the walls, trying to track the activity beyond. There are softer voices you can’t make out, creaks which could be only the wind, and footfalls which are most certainly only servants about their tasks. The tedium stretches on as the lantern light wobbles.

You stare at the wall opposite. The summer hue breezes in with a hint of pollen between the open curtains. Still the chamber remains dim in stone and mortar.

There is the crank of the gates and you shift. You turn your head to hear better the entry of a new party. A man’s tenor from below assures you of the arrival. You wait until the footfalls reach the stairs. You do not relish waking the king should he have managed to sleep.

You look to the king in the chair but find him alert. His eyes are centered on you as he sits straight, golden irises blazing. You gulp and shy away.

“I believe the bishop has come, your highness.”

He doesn’t speak or move. He just watches you. His gaze bores until it burns. You fear you might have strayed somehow.

Finally, he slides to the edge of the chair and stands. He does not seem eager as he makes slow progress towards the door. As he crosses the room, he stops, just before the door, right beside you.

“A war for a wife,” he mutters, “a barter, I suppose.” He reaches for the metal loop on the door, “come, little maid, we might need a pillow should the lady faint again.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #winter's king #medieval au

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