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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Ten-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Throat Fucking, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Humiliation, Begging, Gagging, Oral (f & m rec), Spanking/Belting, Sexual Punishment, Sexual Aggression, CNC, DubCon.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Dread gripped your insides, twisting like a coiled snake ready to strike. The weight of the impending confrontation pressed upon you, a leaden heaviness settling deep in your stomach. Last night had been sleepless, the weight of Mattheo's threat lingering in your mind like a haunting spectre. It wasn't necessarily fear that gnawed at your insides, but a potent blend of anxiety and worry.

The mere thought of Mattheo retaliating against last nights events, potentially drawing his brother Tom into an even deeper tangled web of suspicion, sent shivers down your spine. You knew Tom was already suspicious, already clearly had some sort of inclination about what was going on between you and his brother, and fear sunk its talons into your neck just thinking about what could happen if Mattheo lashed out at him again after last night. The timing would just be all too convenient to happen twice in a row like that.

In the hushed confines of the empty classroom, as you awaited Mattheo's attendance for Wednesday's tutoring session, every second seemed to stretch into eternity. The air hung heavy with anticipation, your breaths shallow and hurried--every creak of the floor beneath your restless pacing echoed like an ominous drumbeat. Your heart thudded in your chest, its frantic rhythm reverberating in your throat, each pulse a reminder of the impending confrontation. Fingers, usually steady, now trembled with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, tangible proof of the mounting tension in your chest.

But then, before you could even process it, the door creaked open, the sound slicing through the heavy silence in the room like a warning. You turned, your heart skipping a beat when you saw Mattheo's disheveled figure framed by the dim light filtering in from the corridor. His white dress shirt was stained with patches of blood, his appearance marred by the evidence of a recent altercation. His eyes, normally sharp and piercing, were now ablaze with a fierce intensity, burning with emotions that he kept tightly concealed.

As he stepped inside, the atmosphere seemed to shift, the air growing thick and suffocating. Each movement he made was deliberate, calculated, as if he was conducting an unspoken symphony of power and control. With a fluid motion, he started to loosen his tie, his hands moving with a grace that contrasted sharply with the aggressive energy radiating from him. The room seemed to shrink in his presence, the walls closing in as if acknowledging his dominance.

You stood frozen, your gaze locked onto his, unable to tear yourself away despite the unsettling mixture of emotions that gripped you. Mattheo's gaze bored into yours, his eyes holding a storm of emotions--anger, frustration, and something deeper, something you couldn't quite pinpoint. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavily between you, the silence ringing in your ears like a deafening roar, suffocating the space and leaving you feeling like you were standing on the edge of a precipice.

With each step he took toward you, the energy in the room grew more electric, his presence overwhelming. The intensity of his stare made it hard to breathe, as if he could see right through you, peeling away layers until your soul lay bare before him. It was a confrontation without words, a battle fought in the silent language of unspoken emotions, and you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to break free from the magnetic pull of his furious gaze.

Your voice quaked. "Mattheo-"

"No," he said, cutting you off, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "No talking, Raven, not tonight."

You felt a lump forming in your throat, a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling within you. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the words that begged to spill out, but his resolute demeanor silenced any protests before they could escape your lips. As Mattheo came to a halt directly in front of you, his bloodied emerald Slytherin tie sitting loosely around his neck now--he wasted zero time before he seized your hips with a motion as swift as a striking snake, his grip so strong it felt like your bones might shatter within his grasp.

Every muscle in your body coiled like a tightly wound spring, bracing for whatever the fuck he'd do next, but nothing could prepare you for the feeling that would erupt through you as he leaned in--inhaling a sharp breath, his exhale hot against the sensitive skin of your neck. The sharp scent of alcohol wafted from him, swirling around you, adding to the already charged atmosphere.

His head dipped, finding the hollow of your shoulder, his dark, curly hair grazing your skin like a whispering caress. A shiver traced the length of your spine as his proximity engulfed you, leaving you both exhilarated and trapped in the potent grip of his presence. You swallowed, trying to steady your trembling fingers that hung limply at your sides.

"You're drunk..." you managed to utter, your voice barely audible in the charged air around you. It was fucking Wednesday. "What happened to exercising your demons, Mattheo..."

"Oh, I am," Mattheo murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a heated caress. "I got them running around the castle right now, doing laps...."

Despite his effort to suppress his fury with cunning sarcasm, the energy radiating from him was palpable, a stormy intensity that crackled in the air around you. His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could feel the weight of his words settle on your skin.

"I...you..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. His proximity was overwhelming, his strange demeanour leaving you entirely at a loss for words--yet there was one thought that seemingly wouldn't leave your mind. "Matt...please tell me this blood isn't from Tom..."

"I said no fucking talking, Raven..." Mattheo's fingers dug into your skin, a painful pinch that threatened to draw a cry from your lips. A sharp gasp escaped you as he swiftly maneuvered his hand around your back, his fingers asserting a firm, possessive hold on your ass. "That mouth only has one fucking purpose tonight...it's been far too long since I've had those pretty lips around my cock..."

Mattheo's presence was a blazing inferno, searing heat that enveloped you entirely, making your skin prickle with anticipation. He maneuvered you both with an unyielding force, guiding you until the edge of the desk met your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. Both of his hands, firm and possessive, found their place on your backside, pulling you snugly against his muscular frame. A sense of foreboding settling deep within your lungs, a weighty anticipation that gripped your every breath.

Despite the palpable tension, you couldn't resist the compulsion to probe further, pushing his boundaries even as the atmosphere crackled with escalating intensity.

"Mattheo, please..." your voice brushed against his cheek like a gentle breeze, your fingers winding into his hair, pulling on the tousled strands in an urgent plea to lock eyes, your heart racing with anxiety. "Please just give me an answer...Tom was skeptical-"

With a sudden, unsettling intensity, Mattheo's demeanor transformed--whatever restraint he was previously maintaining had now completely vanished as he swiftly pivoted you around, his hands unrelenting as he pressed your hips forcefully against the desk. The cool wood bit into your skin as he loomed behind you, his body molding to yours with possessive insistence. One hand coiled around your throat, pulling you back against his chest, while the other traveled up the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Say his fucking name again and I will not hesitate to bend you over this desk and fuck you until the only name you remember is mine..." he pulled you impossibly close, his breath a sultry growl against your ear. "You'll be so fucking full of me, Raven...you'll be so fucking full of my cum you'll feel fucking empty without it...you'll fucking crave my cock...you'll be begging for me to get inside you..."

His free hand explored your body, its fingers skillfully finding every contour, moving purposefully to your tits, caressing and squeezing once he'd reached them. He pulled you tighter, hugging you flush to his front, his insistent erection pressing tight against your ass. A delightful buzz tingled on your skin from his grip around your throat, rendering you utterly helpless, and all that escaped your lips was a soft, pathetic whimper, surrendering to his control.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" He murmured, the alcohol on his tongue swarming your ear. "You're all I can fucking think about."

The words brought a wave of heat crashing over your body.

"Matt-" you said, fighting against his hand, his name hiccuped between your gasp for air when he increased his grip. “-thèo..."

"You fucking haunt me," he said, jerking his hips into your ass, his painfully hard length jamming into your backside. You whimpered as the force of his pelvis drove you harder against the desk. "I've made myself cum to the mere thought of fucking you so many times, Raven...fuck, if you were any other slut I would have fucked you stupid by now..."

His voice was dark and deadly, so quiet that you were almost certain you weren't hearing him correctly, the pounding of your heart drowning out the edges of his syllables, his hand working to untuck your blouse from your skirt before slipping underneath it--igniting goosebumps on your flesh as he went.

"Oh..." the word was a moan as it left your lips, his fingers brushing over your stiffening nipple. "Shit-"

The fingers at your throat increased their pressure, choking your words. "I told you I have a clamouring fucking desire to ruin you...and believe me, I do...but it's not enough to just ruin you, Raven...It's like I need to fucking own you, possess you...there can't be anyone else..."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clenched, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. Mattheo's large palm squeezed your other tit now, kneading it in his hand until he could feel the peak of your nipple. His thumb brushed over it, and you held back a whine, wriggling against him.

"Mattheo-" his name left your lips like a breathless sin, as though it was the only word your pathetic, lust-filled mind knew how to say.

"You know I could be with any girl I fucking want, Raven...any single fucking one..." he murmured, circling the hardening point with the pad of his finger, sparks of pleasure lingering in its path. "I seen your little friend looking at me the other day...what's her head like, hm?"

Ignoring the squirming in between your thighs, you rolled your eyes, a flutter of uncontrollable irritation flowing through you. "Go to hell-"

He answered your snark with another harsh jab of his bulge. "Yeah, you don't like that, do you..." the hand on your throat slid up to pinch your jaw open, two fingers shoving past your teeth and depressing your tongue. You caught a gag when he reached toward the back of your throat. "You wouldn't like it if there was another girl kissing me good night, would you? Another girl sucking me off...swallowing my cum..."

You tried to call him an asshole, but all that came out was, "Ah-houh."

"Mhm, I know..." he snickered, pressing further into your body, hunched over you like you were his next meal. "You're going to fix that situation with my brother, or else I will...you have one fucking week..."

Your heart hammered, your pulse flying, your body trembling against him. His teeth nipped your ear, your head spinning with the onslaught of his power.

"Because this..." this hand on your breast made a path toward the band of your skirt, and you shuddered, bucking away from his touch when he skimmed the sensitive skin of your belly.

"...little cunt..." his hand slipped under the seam of your panties, long, thick fingers easily reaching the warmth of your slit, resting on the outer folds, and you whimpered, wiggling your hips as you sought out his touch.

"...is mine..." one finger parted your lips, slicking itself on your wetness, dragging and catching over your swollen, stiff clit and pulling a low moan from your throat.

You were gelatin in his arms. All you could do was bob your head against his grip, tongue writhing to speak.

"Yeah, that's fucking right..." he said, tracing tiny circles around your clit while his length pressed against your ass. "This tight little pussy wants to cum for me, doesn't it?" You groaned--louder than you wanted--when he sped his pace on your nub, and he squeezed your jaw, voice a deep growl against your ear. "Then you better prove you deserve it."

He relinquished his hold on you, his fingers slowly sliding away from you body as he took a deliberate step back. This subtle retreat granted you just enough space to pivot back towards him. In the dim light, his eyes appeared as profound as the obsidian night, their intensity softened by an unexpected vulnerability. It was a facet of him you had never glimpsed, hidden beneath the layers of his usual overbearing arrogance.

A hushed tension hung in the air as his gaze descended to trace the contours of your lips, a magnetic pull drawing him toward you. His own lips, parted with anticipation, met yours in a tender yet fervent kiss--a languid grace encompassing the way he explored your mouth, a delicate dance that left you breathless. The lingering taste of alcohol on his tongue only heightened the intoxicating sensation, sending your senses reeling as he skillfully slipped past your teeth, all before pulling away again.

"Get on your knees for me, pretty girl..." he murmured, his hand finding your hair and directing your head down, a huff of exasperation leaving his nose as you did what he said without question. "There we go...so good for me..."

As you knelt before him, your heart thundered in your chest, its beats so forceful you feared it might shatter your sternum. Perplexed, you couldn't pinpoint the source of your unease. It wasn't the first time you'd assumed such a position for Mattheo Riddle, yet an unfamiliar tension hung in the air tonight. His unpredictable demeanor had your entire body on edge, amplifying your nervousness to an unprecedented level.

"We're going to do things a little different tonight..." he purred, his hand in your hair pulling away to stroke your cheek with two rough fingers as he peered down at you, dark eyes burning wounds into your skin. "Unbutton your shirt for me."

Your heart skipped, your senses reeling, but with trembling fingers, you immediately did as he said, as though you were being controlled by a remote in his hands. Mattheo hummed in approval as you got down to the last few buttons, his eyes never once leaving yours, the muscles in his jaw clenching and his throat bobbing as he swallowed. When you were done, you met his eyes again, the intensity making your thighs clench in need, and a smirk teased his lips as he reached for the tie sitting loose around his neck; holding it between his battered fist.

When he spoke again, you almost fainted. "Take off my belt, princess..."

A visceral tension gripped you, twisting your stomach into a knot so tight it felt like your insides might unravel. Your hands trembled like fragile autumn leaves in the wind as you reached for the metal latch on his sturdy leather belt. With cautious fingers, you tugged, undoing the buckle carefully and pulling on it until it slithered free from around his waist. Gripping it tightly in both hands, you met his gaze once more, your eyes locking, accompanied by enough force to shatter glass.

Mattheo delicately lifted the tie, guiding it towards your mouth with a gentle touch, your lips parting in a silent understanding. He skillfully threaded it between them, the smooth fabric caressing your skin. With practiced hands, he wrapped it around the back of your head, the silk cool against your skin. With a deft motion, he fashioned it into a comfortable knot, ensuring it held securely, before he bent down and gripped your arm, pulling you back up to your feet.

"Bad girls get punished, Raven..." he murmured, his lips grazing your jawline, one hand on your hip, the other reaching for the leather seated in your hands. "Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are, and I'll reward you..."

As the leather slipped from your hands, Mattheo pulled back, something flickering behind his eyes that made your stomach leap up into your throat. He met your gaze, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or fear, before he urged you to spin around.

"Bend over the desk," he husked, running his hand up your back, the gentle touch igniting flames on your flesh as he urged you down against the desk, the cool chill of the wood igniting a shudder through your entire body. "Down on your elbows...there we go..."

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. Drool was already threatening to spill from the sides of your lips, the taste of blood lingering in your mouth as the bloodied tie sat tightly between your teeth--your breath hitching in your lungs as you felt two large hands run down the sides of your body, tracing your curves with determination as he positioned himself behind you, pressing his bulge against your ass until his hands met your hips and he pulled away; finding the hem of your skirt and slowly flipping it up to expose your backside, wasting absolutely zero time at all before his hands found the plump flesh, squeezing and groping like his life depended on it.

"Fucking hell, Raven..." he groaned, his voice tight and hoarse with need. "You look so fucking good bent over...I wish I could keep you here, just like this..."

You moaned involuntarily, a tornado of emotions swirling inside your brain. You felt as though you were in sensory overload, so many firsts happening at once.

"Spread those thighs," a calloused palm dipped between your legs, urging them further apart, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms, your entire body trembling as the heat of Mattheo's power turned suffocating. "Good fucking girl..."

Your breath hitched, feeling his thumb grazing dangerously close to your cunt, resisting the urge to buck toward his hand--desperate for connection. The heat between your thighs was insatiable at this point, and the teasing was driving you insane. Snapping you from your thoughts, there was a jingling of a buckle, followed by a loud, sickening crack--and you shrieked, heart thumping in your throat, squirming with force to attempt to get away from what was to follow.

"Ah, ah," Mattheo huffed, pressing a palm down on your lower back, holding you firm against the desk. You felt the smooth leather being dragged across your flesh, the sensations making your entire body flinch.

"I'm going to bruise this beautiful ass, and you're going to thank me for it, because that's what bad, filthy girls deserve..." he paused, as though waiting for your protest, and when it never came, he shifted his body, looming over you. "Do you understand me, princess?"

Do you understand? Do you fucking understand? No, any sort of understanding eluded you entirely. In truth, the unfolding scenario baffled you--you didn't know how the fuck you'd gone from being his tutor, someone who could barely tolerate his daily presence, to this precarious moment--bent over the fucking desk, about to be belted by him for an issue involving his own brother. You didn't understand any of this, and yet, not one single part of you wanted to stop it.

In response, you nodded, and Mattheo hummed, seemingly satisfied.

A heavy silence settled around you, in wake of his voice. Every sinew in your body tensed with anticipation, your eyelids squeezed shut in grim expectancy. The air hung heavy, pregnant with the impending storm, while inside you, tension wound tighter than ever, prickling your skin like sharp thorns digging into flesh. Then, like a sudden lightning strike, a searing bolt of pain cracked across your backside, tearing a scream from your lips. Despite the muffling effect of the tie clenched between your teeth, the sound reverberated through the room, shattering the silence.

Mattheo, his grip firm, yanked your hair, pulling you forcefully against his chest--his lips brushing against your ear.

"Do that again and I'll give you something to really fucking scream about, Raven..." he snarled, his fingers pinching your scalp. "Shut up and bite the tie. To five."

In a swift, unyielding motion, he thrust you back onto the desk, his hand firmly grasping your head, forcing your cheek against the chilling surface of the wood. You squirmed beneath his unrelenting hold, your eyelids clenched shut as you awaited the searing sting, but Mattheo didn’t make you wait for very long before the smooth leather of his belt cracked against your skin, leaving behind a trail of fiery agony that surged through your limbs.

Instinctively, your teeth sank into his tie, muffling the primal scream that threatened to escape your lips. An electric jolt of pain rippled through you, yet amidst the torment, a strange sense of resilience emerged. Inhaling sharply, you found the strength to steel yourself, your body absorbing the pain while your spirit endured the storm.

"Mm." Mattheo hummed, running his rough palm over the red, sweltering skin, squeezing a cheek in one of his big hands, soothing the welts. "I gotta say, I fucking love watching you squirm, princess..."

Your face reddened, a pang of an unknown emotion in your chest, eagerly squeezing your eyes shut as he pulled his hand off your flesh, the lack of movement and audible sounds in the room driving your nerves into a panicked frenzy. And then, before you could process it, you felt it again--the pain forcing a choked cry to leave your throat.

"Such a shame I have to ruin this perfect ass--" crack.

Your cunt twinged at his words, fire flashing your flesh, and he he struck you again, swift and merciless, leaving no room for a response--only a ragged, involuntary squeal escaping your throat in response to the searing pain.

"Such a shame I have to remind you of your place--" crack.

You whimpered, your body trembling with a mixture of pain and bewildering emotions. A twisted cocktail of sensations engulfed your mind, leaving you conflicted. You cursed your own body, disturbed by the inexplicable response, your senses entangled in a blend of desire and humiliation. Your core pulsed with an insatiable need, aching for attention, craving release despite the twisted circumstances.

Confusion swirled in your veins, leaving your head spinning. How could you find arousal in something so humiliating? The paradox gnawed at your thoughts, yet an undeniable part of you craved the intensity, leaving you inexplicably craving more.

Above all else, this was degrading. Yet, you were fucking throbbing for it.

"...remind you who you fucking belong to--" crack.

With the final, brutal crack of the belt, the metal buckle seared into your skin, imprinting its icy mark. The sharp, biting sensation wrenched a primal groan from your throat, your body convulsing in response. Drool spilled from your lips, tears welling in your eyes--and the room reverberated with the metallic clatter as Mattheo discarded the belt, his hand moving swiftly to find the inflamed skin, fingers grazing the wounded area with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness.

His thumb traced the path where you were certain blood had been drawn, a deliberate gesture that seemed to collect the evidence upon his skin. In a sudden, commanding movement, he pulled you away from the desk, forcing you to face him. Within the depths of his gaze, you glimpsed a twisted satisfaction entwined with something infinitely darker. His grin took on a sinister edge as he sucked his thumb into his mouth, the taste of your blood lingering on his lips. It was a macabre ritual, sending shivers down your spine, as if he had claimed a piece of you in a way that transcended the physical realm.

With a deliberate slowness, he withdrew his thumb from his mouth, his unyielding eyes locked onto yours, a challenge simmering beneath the surface. His fingers traced the path of the tie between your teeth, pulling it down methodically until it hung around your neck. Gently, he wiped the drool from the corners of your lips, his touch meticulous and strangely intimate. His eyes scrutinized your face with a depth of focus that both unsettled and intrigued you. There was an enigmatic intensity in his gaze, a complexity that left you partially terrified and yet undeniably aroused.

In that moment, you found yourself entangled in a labyrinth of emotions, your mind racing to comprehend the enigma of the boy standing before you.

His voice was a hoarse whisper. "What do you say, Raven..."

You swallowed, throat more arid than the desert, heart still pounding like a base drum. "Thank you, Mattheo..."

Mattheo's hands found their way to your face, his touch firm yet strangely gentle as his fingers slid sensually through your hair. Without a word, he crushed his lips against yours, a hungry and urgent kiss that left you breathless. His mouth dominated yours, his tongue probing with a rough insistence, exploring every corner of your mouth, caressing your own tongue in a dance of desire.

A low, needy moan escaped your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss, while your fingers clenched his shirt, desperately seeking an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations. With a commanding strength, he urged you backward, his grip on your hips unwavering as he effortlessly lifted you onto the desk. A soft whimper slipped from your throat as the supple flesh of your backside met the unyielding surface of the wood.

He moved down your neck, his plush lips leaving a hot trail of kisses down your chin, jaw, licking and sucking at the every inch of skin he could, creating planes of goosebumps across your flesh. His tongue drew a line across your collarbone, and he fell to your breasts, tugging down your bra and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it. You moaned, meeting his gaze, and he rolled his tongue around the hardened bud, sending shivers through you, straight to your clit.

Exasperated, he pulled away--dark eyes scanning your heaving, lust-possessed form.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

You were speechless, beginning to tremble, and Mattheo Riddle dropped to his knees between your legs, urging your thighs further apart on the desk, long fingers clutching your hips. Your cunt clenched in anticipation, but your teeth were clacking from anxiety, and he met your eyes.

"Relax," he said.

You made an attempt to nod, but your chin quivered despite your resolve. It wasn't an issue of trust, nor were you overtly frightened. Yet, the sheer intimacy of his presence, hovering intimately close to your most vulnerable parts, left your nerves frayed and your composure on the edge of unraveling.

"Raven." Mattheo glared at you, gouging the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Relax. You're safe with me..."

"I-I know..." you whimpered.

You shut your eyes tightly and drew in a slow breath through your nose, holding it in an attempt to steady the quivering in your body. You waited, holding onto the breath, until the tremors subsided before finally exhaling, releasing the tension that had gripped you.

"Good girl," he said. "Now look at me."

You opened your eyes, and his gaze locked with yours as his warm mouth started to suck at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, extracting a mewl from you. He smirked against you, moving closer to your center, and you bit your lip, walls contracting again with desire. As he drew closer, the curls of his messy hair tickled your skin, and then he shifted a hand, urging your panties to the side before he skipped his tongue across your outer folds, making your hips buck toward him.

"Filthy thing," he said, and pressed his full, soft lips to your pussy, dragging his flat tongue along the slit.

“F-fuck," electricity shot through you, wriggling within his grasp, your fingers clenched tightly, entwining in the disheveled tangle of his hair.

Riddle muffled a laugh with your flesh, lavishing your cunt with deep, slow kisses, tongue sliding inside of your folds, lapping the juices at your core, teasing your outer lips with languid licks. He moved away from your center, his mouth back to crawling along your thighs, and you complained with a grumble. In response, he took the tip of his tongue and flicked your clit.

"Shit..." you moaned, rocking your hips toward him. You stared at him with shining, pleading eyes. "Matty...please, please..."

"There's my girl..." he purred, "I love when you beg for me, Raven...you've been so fucking good for me..."

Before you could response, he growled and sucked your clit into his mouth, and you cried out, body jerking, but he held you fast, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. A moan left you as you gyrated your hips, warmth spreading out across you, fingertips and toes buzzing with bliss. Mattheo played his tongue against your swollen clit, your walls throbbing as your pleasure continued to build.

"Oh, fuck," you said, head hanging to the side. "Oh, Gods...Matty..."

The vibrations of his moan reverberated through your pussy, and he sucked harder, his unyielding stare never wavered, his golden-brown eyes digging into the depths of your soul. Each breath came faster, a delicious surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, building an exquisite tension that carried you higher and higher, inching you closer to the precipice of bliss. Mattheo buried his face into your cunt, lips tight on your clit, tongue batting the bundle of nerves.

Incessant moans escaped your chest with every ragged breath, jaw hanging open, gripping his hair like you could pull it from his scalp. "I...holy fuck...Mattheo..."

"That's it," he purred, the praise in his tone sparking heat in your lungs. "Cum for me, baby..."

A tidal wave of euphoria crashed over you, the walls of your senses pulsating, your body wracked with the convulsions of a long-delayed orgasm. Your vision blurred into white nothingness as you threw your head back, a crescendo of unintelligible curses escaping your lips in a primal symphony. Mattheo held onto your spasming legs, his ministrations expertly guiding you to the pinnacle of your pleasure, drawing out every last exquisite tremor, tip of his tongue sliding up your slit to your mound as you finally returned to reality. Your chest swelled as you caught your breath, refocusing on Mattheo's glistening face.

Your head rolled, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Matt-"

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your centre. "We aren't done yet, princess...keep being good for me..."

Entirely speechless, you nodded, unable to peel your eyes from his as he pulled you off the desk, dropping his hands from you as he moved to the buttons on his trousers, swiftly undoing them before pulling them down his thighs along with his boxers--his thick, throbbing cock springing free, tip glistening with precum, his head falling back in relief as he wrapped his fist around its girth, stroking slowly as you instinctively gathered yourself in front of his feet.

Something was swirling inside you, something primal, something hungry--and your hands found his thighs, slowly trailing up, peering up at him with a wide-eyed gaze; your voice alien to your own fucking ears.

"Please, Matty..." you purred. "Please let me suck your cock...please let me swallow-"

"Fucking hell..." Mattheo seized your hair, his actions driven by a raw and primal intensity as he directed his cock toward your lips. "Show me what that filthy mouth does, baby..."

You parted your lips, and Mattheo's grip on your hair tightened, pushing himself into you. Without thinking, you groaned on his length, legs writhing with arousal as he inched himself along your squirming tongue. Mattheo was biting his lip, watching your own lips stretch around his dick, watching you stare up at him with large, obedient eyes. He throbbed in your mouth, and you swallowed, the pool of your spit mixing with pearls of salty pre-cum.

Mattheo grunted, pulling out and thrusting back in, and in and out again, lips parting while you whimpered and choked on the size of his cock.

"Poor thing," he sneered. "Am I too big for your dirty little mouth?"

Nodding, you attempted to groan your agreement, but found yourself muffled by a deep thrust into your throat. You retched, trying to get off of his length, but another hand seized the back of your head, holding you there, tears and drool sliding to your jaw while he rocked into you. Every noise from your chest was a stifled whimper, gagging with every deep thrust, but he was ruthless, fingers burrowed into your face, cock fucking hard into your throat, and when you squeezed shut your lids, he growled.

"Look at me, Raven." he ordered. "Look at me when I'm throat fucking you. Know whose cum you're about to taste.

You complied, locking eyes with him through a haze, your throat raw and tender, lips and tongue going numb with his brutal thrusting.

"Good girl," he moaned, "so good...fuck..."

Riddle shifted, craning your head back, plunging deeper into your neck, seething in pleasure when you whined on his cock. His breath was coming fast, his dick pulsing urgently in your mouth, and then he was cursing, hissing your name, hips jerking in sloppy thrusts. He pulled out, fisting his length.

"Open."

You did, and he growled, shooting hot ropes of white onto your mouth and eyes, hips still rolling while he fucked his hand through the end of his climax. As he caught his breath, he looked down at you, your jaw jacked open, his bitter cum collecting on your tongue and sticking one of your lids shut.

"Go on," he huffed. "Swallow it."

Groaning, you swallowed, eye twitching as it opened despite the pull of his release on your lashes. Gasping for air, your head hung low as Mattheo released your hair. His eyes never wavered, attentively watching your every move as you gradually pulled yourself up from the floor. Meanwhile, his hands deftly moved to adjust his pants, restoring a semblance of decency.

Your own hands trembled as you fumbled to button up your shirt, a sense of vulnerability lingering in the air. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his tall figure casting a shadow over you in the charged silence. With a slow, deliberate movement, he used his finger to sweep away any traces of his release from your face, his eyes smoldering with intensity and a smirk playing on his lips as he directed his finger toward your parted lips.

Without hesitation, you welcomed it between your teeth, your mouth enveloping it with a mix of compliance and desire. Holding his gaze, you sucked gently, the unspoken tension crackling between you. He watched, his lips parting slightly, as you willingly took his finger into your mouth, the connection lingering until he slowly withdrew it, the intensity of the moment hanging between you like a charged current.

"Shit..." he murmured, glimpsing your lips.

"Shit." You repeated, glimpsing his.

The charged silence hung heavily in the air, enveloping both of you as you stood there, locked in a wordless exchange. Countless unspoken words seemed to swirl between you, filling the space with their weight, yet neither of you dared to vocalize them, opting for the sanctuary of silence. After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo finally exhaled, the sound carrying the weight of the unspoken. With a resigned gesture, he moved towards his chair and sank into it, the weariness evident in his posture.

You followed suit, collecting yourself, and Riddle finally broke the silence.

“This isn’t his blood.” He said, and relief almost immediately flooded you. "One week, Raven."

————————

Find chapter eleven->

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justkindalivin · 1 year

Text

Roommate trouble

summary: Your roommate Jesse and his girlfriend Dina fuck..a lot. loudly. When you finally get fed up after being woken up by their nightly “activities”, you go to Dina’s dorm for some peace and quiet only to run into her roommate, Ellie.

warnings: Smut (18+ PLZ), Language, modern!au, college!au, making out, thigh riding, fingering (r rec), oral (r rec), dom!ellie, teasing, sub!reader, not edited well (I can’t think of anything else but lmk if you find something I forgot!)

wc: 2.7k

an: HEY YALL!! It's been a hot minute, sorry about that! The shotgun series is still ongoing but this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. I tried to activate my asks or whatever but I’m still kinda new to how tumblr works haha. I wanna meet people in the TLOU community and make friends so come say hi!! Anyhoo I hope you guys enjoy, have a great day I love you ♡ - Lottie

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You loved Jesse, you really did. Starting from move-in day, you guys did everything together, knew everything about each other, and he quickly became your absolute best friend. When he first introduced you to Dina, a girl he met during orientation, you were so happy he found someone as sweet and open as she was. She always greeted you with a hug and smile, even going as far as inviting you to hang out with her and Jesse on whatever date they had planned. Eventually, you and Dina also got very close, going on your own little “friend dates” as she called them where you would go to dinner or just watch a movie. You always joked that if she ever got tired of Jesse all she had to do was say the word and you would sweep her off her feet. As much as you loved them though, there was one thing about them that you couldn’t stand. They fucked like rabbits. Literally 24/7. You actually didn’t even know it was medically possible for two people to get it on this much. You come home from a class and boom- they’re in your dorm going at it. Trying to take a nap in your room? Think again, here comes Jesse and Dina tearing off each other's clothes. You tried to be cool about it at first because you didn’t want to seem bitchy, but you were quickly reaching your limit. And tonight was the night you lost it

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You had a long fucking day, filled with back-to-back classes that seemed to last an eternity and mountains of homework that took you hours in the library to complete. Practically as soon as you got to your dorm and your head hit the pillow you passed out, which is probably why you didn't hear Jesse and Dina come home. What you did hear, however, was a weird grating creaking noise that roused you from sleep. Blinking the blurriness from your eyes, you start to come to your surroundings. The creaking started to get louder and as you become more and more awake, you begin to notice soft moans and grunts coming from the direction of the creaking... - NO. FUCKING. WAY.

“You little fuck gremlins, you’re unbelievable!!!” You exclaim, hucking your pillow in their general direction. The sound of a startled grunt and scrambling from Jesse’s bed fills your ears as they try to cover themselves up, and finally, you turn your bedside lamp on to glare at them. Both of them sit on his bed, messily wrapped in blankets with a light pink dusting on their cheeks, chests heaving as they try to catch their breath. At least Dina looks apologetic, Jesse just looks annoyed you interrupted them.

“I’m so sorry, I-” Dina starts apologizing, but you hold up your hand to stop her.

“Jesse, you're like a brother to me and I love you, but I can’t deal with you right now. Like, just give me a heads up when you two are gonna fuck and I’ll leave, this is traumatizing.” Jesse slightly rolls his eyes but nods, and you can tell he does actually feel bad that they woke you. “and Dina, just give me a chance I’d treat you so right, just say the word. You’ve done nothing wrong ever, and I love you.”

Jesse shakes his head, throwing his hands up indignantly “Why do I get scolded like a toddler and Dina gets hit on?!? Where’s the justice?”. You shut him up with a glare, then focus back on Dina.

“Dina, where is your dorm and would your roommate mind me staying there? Y’all can finish what you started but I’m getting tf up outta here.” After getting the building name and room number, you quickly pack a small go bag with essentials, wrap a blanket over your shoulders, and begin to trudge across campus to Dina’s building. About halfway there you think about how crazy you’re going to look to her roommate, a girl you’ve never met before but Dina had mentioned in passing a few times. The only thing you knew about her was that her name was Ellie and she was an astronomy major. Fuck, what were you even going to say when you got there?? Hey! Our roommates were having a fuck fest in my room, mind if we have a sleepover? You spent the rest of the walk overthinking and trying to come up with something to say when you saw her until eventually, you found yourself on their floor. Wandering down the hallway, you finally stumble on a light wooden door that was decorated with colorful bits of paper cut into the shape of mushrooms that held both Dina and Ellie’s names. Keeping in mind the mini script you made of what to say when you were walking over, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment of silence, clattering and distant swearing come from the other side of the door before it swings open. Your mouth goes dry, all the words you had rehearsed flying out the window as you take in Ellie for the first time. Her short auburn hair falls messily around her freckled face and as she lifts her hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes, you catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her forearm. Wearing just a white cotton tank top and black boxers, it was clear that she had been sleeping peacefully before your rude awakening. As you continue to check her out, you’re startled when her voice cuts through the quiet of the hallway.

“Dude, I was sleeping. The fuck do you want?” Ellie’s voice is still thick with sleep as her gaze falls on you. Oh shit, she must think you’re so creepy, just some rando waking her up in the middle of the night and then staring at her. You hastily blurt out your name trying to seem like less of a weirdo in front of Dina’s smoking-hot roommate

“Dina and Jesse woke me up with their... sex stuff? And they go at it all the time and I was kinda fed up so I asked Dina if I could sleep in her bed for tonight and she said yes so... now I'm here and-” Your awkward rambling was cut short by Ellie bursting out laughing, doubling over to clutch her stomach.

“No way dude that's fucking heinous! You poor thing get in here.” With that, Ellie grabs your arm and pulls you into the room, her hand finding the small of your back as she guides you in. “Welcome to our humble abode, that's Dina’s side so you can just dump your shit over there, and that's her bed.” She says, gesturing to the left side of the room. Shoving your backpack to the ground, you make your way to Dina’s bed, observing the room as you go. Ellie’s side is filled with drawings and posters, as well as a guitar that leans up against her bed rail. Pictures also litter the walls, some of her and Dina, some of her other friends, and a few of her with an older man you assume is her dad. Suddenly feeling the night catch up to you, a huge yawn leaves your lips and you crawl into Dina’s bed, letting your eyes fall closed.

“It's nice to finally meet you, Dina talks about you all the time. She didn’t tell me you were pretty though”. Your eyes fly open and you can feel your cheeks growing warm at the compliment.

“Dina talks about you too. It's weird we’ve never met before, Dina always said I would like you” You reply, rolling over to face her to see that she was already looking at you.

“Listen any time those two are annoying you, come over here. You’re always welcome” she tells you, a wide smile stretching across her face

“Thanks, Ellie”

“No problem pretty girl”

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“Ellie they’re doing it again!! They were literally eye fucking all over the room so I made my escape before my vision got assaulted. Again.” You yell, bursting into Ellie's room without so much as a knock. On that first night you stayed in Dina’s dorm, the two of you talked for hours, only stopping once daylight began to leak through the curtains on the windows. She talked about her adopted dad, Joel, what she wanted to do with her life, and her love of dinosaurs. With each word, you found yourself more and more enamored with her. You’d never met anyone like Ellie and from that day on you guys were close friends. Well... you don’t know if friends is the way to describe it. Ellie was almost always touching you, from wrapping an arm around your waist when you were walking together to pulling you down onto her lab when there was not enough room on the couch. At parties, she’d keep close to you, warding off creepy men with a snarl and her arm around your shoulders. You’d both shared countless kisses, some light and playful, others deep and passionate. There was something unspoken between the two of you, you saw it in the way she looked at you, the way she was protective over you like no one else in your life has ever been. You’d never labeled what you and Ellie had, too scared that if you talked about it, she’d get so weirded out by you reading too much into it that she would leave.

“I keep telling you babe, set boundaries with them. As much as I love having your gorgeous face here, you gotta tell them when you need the room.”

That was the other thing, the nicknames she gave you. You don’t think Ellie has called you by your name once since the night you met. It's always pretty girl, gorgeous, or your personal favorite, babe. Wandering over to where Ellie sat on the edge of her bed, tuning her guitar, you flop face down next to her. Hearing her place the guitar down with a dramatic sigh, you feel Ellie’s body moving toward where you lay on the bed. Rough hands grasp your waist, rolling you until you’re laying on your back. Ellie kneels over you, one hand stroking the skin of your waist while the other glides up the side of your body to brush your hair out of your eyes.

“I’ll beat the shit out of Jesse, will that help?” She offers, only half joking, earning a small giggle from you as she smiles.

“My hero” You joke, hand rising to cup the side of her face and squeeze the flesh there. “You don’t have to, I just have to stop being a pussy and tell them. Maybe we can make a schedule or something, I don't know.”

“Oo a fucking schedule, how romantic. I’m sure they’ll love that” She teases and you shove her away from you playfully. Before you can fully shove her away, she grips your arm, using the momentum to pull you onto her lap. Her back leans against the wall and she picks you up slightly by your hips so that she can slide her thigh between your legs.

“Shut up I’m trying okay?” You giggle raising your hand to push her once again. This time though, she catches it and laces your fingers together. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath from being WWE slammed into a cuddle session and you could have sworn you catch Ellie’s eyes flutter between your own and your chest. Did you wear a low-cut tank top and booty shorts on purpose?... maybe. Was it working? Hell yes.

When Ellie finally looks up from your chest, you raise an eyebrow mockingly at her and her face immediately flushes a dark red. You laugh as she averts her gaze and clears her throat, leaning down to rest your head in the crook of her neck. Her hands migrate to rub your back, moving the fabric of your shirt to rub soothing circles on your soft skin. From her neck you try to sneak a look at her face, only to find that her eyes are already locked on you. With a small smile, you once again bring your hand up to cup her face, this time just caressing the skin there instead of pinching. Ellie removes her hands from your back and uses them to grab the hair at the base of your neck, bringing your head up to face her. After only a brief look from your eyes to your lips, Ellie surges forward and meets your lips in a searing kiss.

She bites down on your lower lip playfully, taking advantage of the small gasp you let out to explore your mouth. Without realizing it, you begin to grind on Ellie’s thigh, desperate for friction. You only register you’re doing it when Ellie brings her hand down to grope your ass, forcing you further down on her thigh and quickening your pace. You break the kiss with a soft moan, getting lost in the pleasure until suddenly you find yourself on your back. Ellie slots her body fully over yours, eyeing you up and down with flush cheeks.

“Fuck, babe you’re so fucking beautiful.” She says, tracing her hand along the waistband of your shorts, toying with the fabric.

“Please Ellie” You whimper, practically writhing under her despite the fact that she's barely done anything yet

“Please what pretty girl? Use your words.”

“Touch me, Ellie, please! I-I need you!” You cry out and with a smug smirk, she slides her fingers under your waistband and between your folds

“It's okay baby shh, I got you. Fuck you’re so wet, is all this for me, gorgeous?” All you can do is nod pitifully as her fingers sink into you, a harsh moan tearing from your lips. Her fingers slide easily in and out, your slick walls clenching around her as her face moves to suck marks onto your neck. The pleasure is too much, clenching your eyes shut all you can focus on is the rough pounding of her fingers within you.

“Fuck, Ellie.. feels so good f-fuck” You incoherently babble as she curls her fingers, hitting your sweet spot and making your vision go dark. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body clenching and shaking around Ellie’s fingers as she praises you.

“That's it pretty, you did so good for me. You’re so fucking hot, babe.” Ellie removes her fingers and immediately puts them in her mouth, sucking off your slick with a contented moan. “Fucking delicious, will you let me taste more baby? Please?”. Not finding yourself able to speak yet, all you can do is nod and Ellie wastes no time. Clambering off the bed, Ellie grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge, kneeling before you now bare core. Throwing your legs over her shoulders, Ellie dives in, attaching her lips to your swollen clit with a harsh suck. You loudly cry out, hands flying to the back of her head as her tongue begins to rapidly lick and suck all over. You feel your orgasm approaching more quickly than before and you unconsciously begin to grind down on Ellie's face to chase your release. However, your trance is interrupted by a loud shriek

“OH MY GOD! What the fuck guys, what are you doing?!?!” Dina yells from the now open door, shielding her eyes with her hand. You scramble to cover yourself with Ellie's comforter as the woman herself lets out an annoyed groan.

“Is this what it feels like!?! Jesus, it's like walking in on your parents. I’m so sorry, I’ll come back later!” Dina rushes out and slams the door behind her, leaving you and Ellie alone once again. After a moment of silence, Ellie starts to laugh

“Well, at least she knows what it's like now. I doubt they’ll be causing you problems again.” She says between her giggles, grabbing a pair of her boxers to dress you in. You shake off your embarrassment and begin to laugh as well, taking Ellie's hand and tugging her into bed with you. As Ellie wraps you in her arms, you can’t help but think you might have to thank Jesse and Dina for being such sex maniacs.

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an: I love you guys so much, thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my previous posts. Let me know if you guys can access my asks, I wanna get to know yall!! this is my first time writing smut, yall can probably tell LMAO but all feedback is appreciated ☺︎

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader smut #college!ellie williams #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic

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reidmotif · 9 months

Text

Coffee and Consequences

Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.

Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for.

Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario.

But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous.

I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other.

Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help. “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.”

I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."

I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him.

In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for.

God, was I wrong.

I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile.

He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering.

“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.”

I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic.

I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone.

Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around.

“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right?

Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee.

It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.

“You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me.

For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid.

Eventually, this led to the dynamic we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued.

Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him

However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid?

The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself.

“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me.

“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss.

“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted.

“You’re naive!” He shot back.

We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.”

I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.

“Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows.

“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this.

“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically.

“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick.

As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in.

Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of.

It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot.

I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness.

“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded.

It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant.

“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously.

“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts.

“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”

“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard.

“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious?

“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment.

“I wasn’t thinking, I just-”

“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him.

I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?”

I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly.

“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his.

In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound.

The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.

In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door.

I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze.

“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow.

“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down.

I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head.

“Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions, already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly.

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up.

“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here.

“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.”

Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now.

“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before.

“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness.

“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment.

I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?

“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me.

“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.”

I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face.

“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly.

I chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.

But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me.

He gently inquires, “Do you understand?”

I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer.

“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses. “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point.

My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him.

Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound.

“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before.

“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.” He said, with a low chuckle.

And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy.

“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.”

I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.”

“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips.

“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch, beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly.

“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely.

He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck.

He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway.

“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind.

“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.”

“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt.

“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words.

“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone.

“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth.

“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible.

And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.

His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing.

I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence.

I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly.

I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.”

I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding.

“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.

He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job.

I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me.

“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth.

“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.”

It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while.

My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm.

“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered.

It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.”

I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased.

He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.”

I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.

hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #smut #request #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfiction

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mrs-weasley-reid · 26 days

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you're too sweet for me

(young) Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Summary: Opposites attract, but Aaron reasons that it doesn't mean the magnets should connect. Just because he's in love with you doesn't mean he has to admit it.

Warning: Angst.

A/N: inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

From the moment Aaron Hotchner met you, he knew you'd be the death of him.

Your bright aura. Your friendly personality. Your witty jokes. Your everything. You.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't drawn to you like everybody else. In fact, he was probably one of the willing victims of your sweetness.

The two of you joined the academy at the same time. Compared to Aaron, you were the one he would call a magnet. You had everyone attracted to you like a moth to a flame, and all you had to do was smile.

Finding out that you both got a position at the Behavioral Analysis Unit gave him such a euphoric daze. Aaron thought he was just happy that he got the job he wanted. But if he had to admit, seeing you was one of the reasons that it felt right.

"Good morning, Hotch!" You came in like the morning sun, filled with energy and blinding light. You slumped on your swivel chair with a chuckle, "Y'know, smiling a little bit won't kill you. How are we supposed to recruit more people to the team if you're frowning all the time?" You coaxed with a playful grin, easing onto your desk that sat across from him.

You were the first person to ever call him Hotch, getting the idea on accident over a cup of coffee. You were in the middle of bringing his mug in the name of being a kind teammate when you rattled on a simple, "Be careful, it's hotch!" followed by bursting out of laughter after the innocent mistake.

And since then, you couldn't call him anything else. Aaron wasn't thinking of correcting you anytime soon. After all, you two have been working together for the past five years, contributing to the continuous development of the BAU.

One other thing...

Aaron Hotchner has been in love with you for years, and kept it buried in the deepest corner of his heart.

Why?

He thought of many things.

First, your coffee order. He took his coffee straight black. The bitterness kept him awake enough to function. You, however, had some step-by-step concoction that kept you insanely energized for the day.

Second, your bedtime. He stays up as late as he could. The silence brought him peace as he listened to his pen scribble on his action report. You, however, slept as early as eight in the evening or as soon as you were allowed.

Aaron wouldn't hesitate to say more, but it'd take him an eternity.

He knew so much about you that someone might render him a creep had he mentioned it to anyone else but himself.

Because one thing Aaron Hotchner knew well was you.

And he knew you'd change in an instant if someone asked you to.

Aaron couldn't possibly have you do such a horrible thing.

The world needed your brightness. Aaron convinced himself that the world needed you more than he could ever do.

You were too good for him, too sweet.

So, why ruin the incredible person you are?

His love for you could be treated with constant denial, but whatever damage he could do to your bright spark would be a crime.

Loving you was a crime.

"I got it!" You erupted in the bullpen, jumping like a three-year-old child. Your vision caught Aaron, who had just walked in. You snatched him into a tight hug as you continued to bounce on your feet.

Aaron couldn't stop his lips from curving, melting into a puddle as he felt your arms wrap around him. His body stood frozen, but his heart was beating so loud he was afraid you could hear it.

Jason Gideon came out of his office to see the commotion, David Rossi right behind him. The two founding fathers of the unit curiously wondered what may have made them stop in the middle of a chess game.

"What's the jumping for?" David had his eyebrows knitted but was enjoying the way you celebrated with joy.

Another reason why Aaron couldn't possibly admit his feelings for you. You were contagious. Your glee always affected everyone, influencing an individual with the tiniest sound of your giggles.

You retracted away from Aaron, facing David. "I got the position in Interpol!" You exclaimed with pride, gasping for air after your prior actions.

Jason and David raised their eyebrows, accordingly giving you a congratulatory embrace. You felt their happiness for you in every bone they had almost crushed. Still, you paid no mind. The news made you feel elated, fueling you with a sense of fulfillment.

"It'd be different to not have you here, but I'm proud of you. Interpol would be glad to have you." Jason remarked with a satisfying nod. "You ready to move to Washington?"

"Even better," You bit your lower lip from excitement, "I'm going to France!" You clasped your mouth with both your hands, containing your squeals behind it.

Aaron heard his entire heart shatter into pieces as your triumph echoed on the walls of the bullpen. Everything became a blur and muffled.

Years of keeping his feelings a secret was no easy task, but at least he got to see your sweet smile each day. He couldn't imagine his life without listening to your random fits of laughter.

How was he going to survive a day without your daily reminder that he was human and not some poker-faced mannequin?

Who would complain about his bitter taste for coffee?

Where would he look when he needed a source of hope in the form of a warm smile?

What would he do without you in his life..?

But you just looked so proud, so excited, so... happy.

So, Aaron Hotchner put up a brave face and soft smile, "Congratulations."

#aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #fem!reader #criminalminds #criminal minds #cm #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner criminal minds

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d-targaryenshoe · 2 months

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Eternal Hope - Anthony Bridgerton

Word Count: 2053

Summary: When one's best friend tells you a rather complex secret about your husband, doubts start to take over your mind, am I right?

You and Anthony Bridgerton were the perfection of an ideal couple, your marriage a testament to the power of love and commitment.

You were a vision of innocence and purity, your heart as untainted as the snow that covered the ground on your wedding day.

He was the embodiment of devotion, his every action a reflection of his deep affection for you. To the outside world, you were the picture-perfect duo, your lives a fairytale come true.

But your best friend, Philipa Featherington, knew better. Her family had seen Anthony Bridgerton in his younger days before he had met you and settled down.

Back then, he had been known as quite the rake, a man who was more interested in the pleasures of the flesh than in finding true love.

Despite his charming exterior, there was something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

It was this knowledge that made Philipa feel a mixture of awe, envy, and a tiny thread of worry for you, her friend.

One afternoon, as the two of you sat in the parlor, sipping tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun, Philipa decided to share the past with you.

"You know, y/n," she began, her voice low and conspiratorial, "I sometimes wonder how you ever managed to tame that wild beast of a man."

Philipa nodded towards the golden ring on your finger. "Before you came along, Anthony was quite the scoundrel."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Philipa, I cannot believe that you would say such a thing about my husband!" you exclaimed. "Anthony is the most loving, attentive man I could ever hope for!"

Philipa smiled sympathetically, knowing that you meant every word you said. But she also knew that there was more to the story than you realized.

"Yes, yes," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Of course, he is different now. But you must remember that everyone here has known him for years, and some saw firsthand the things he used to do. He could be quite ruthless, y/n. He never cared about anyone's feelings but his own."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you sure you're not overstating?" you asked hesitantly. "Anthony has always been so kind to me."

Philipa looked you in the eye. "I wish I were," she said simply.

"But the truth is, Anthony Bridgerton was once a very different man. And while I'm glad that he's changed, and that you're so happy together, I can't help but wonder if you know who he is."

Your heart sank at your friend's words. You wanted to believe that Philipa was wrong, that Anthony could never have been anything but the devoted husband you knew now.

But a tiny seed of doubt began to take root in your mind. Perhaps there was more to Anthony's past than you had realized.

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love Anthony with all my heart, and he loves me just as much. He's been nothing but faithful and kind since the day we met."

Philipa reached over and took your hand in hers. "I'm not saying that he isn't faithful to you now," she said gently.

"But you must understand that the man you married is not the same man who was running through the streets of London, chasing after any skirt that crossed his path."

You bit your lip, trying to process everything your friend was saying.

You wanted to believe that Anthony was as innocent and pure as you were, but the memories of Philipa's stories kept creeping into your thoughts.

Could it be possible that there was more to Anthony than you knew?

As you sat alone in the carriage, making your way home from your visit to Philipa, your heart felt heavy with doubt.

The wind howled outside, and the horses' hooves clattered against the cobblestone streets, but you could barely hear any of it over the voice in your head.

What if Philipa was right? What if Anthony had been dissatisfied with you in some way?

You tried to convince yourself that it was ridiculous, that Anthony was the most loving husband a woman could ask for.

But the thought lingered, refusing to be shaken off.

Your mind drifted back to the beginning of your courtship, when Anthony had been so attentive, always showering you with compliments and affection.

He had made you feel beautiful and desirable in a way that no one else ever had. But then, as time went on, you began to wonder if perhaps he was growing bored with you.

He had started spending more time at his club, and when he was home, he seemed distracted.

You tried to talk to him about it, but he always brushed your concerns aside, insisting that everything was fine.

You closed your eyes, the tears beginning to well up in their corners. It hurt you to think that Anthony might not find you beautiful anymore, that he might be seeking pleasure elsewhere.

The thought made you feel so insecure, so unworthy of his love. As the carriage pulled up in front of your home, you forced a smile onto your face, trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be all right.

But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right between you.

You climbed out of the carriage and hurried up the steps to your front door, your heart racing with anticipation and fear.

Anthony was supposed to have returned home hours ago, but he hadn't come back yet.

You knocked on the door, your knuckles white from gripping the handle.

When the butler answered, you forced a bright smile, trying to hide the turmoil within her.

"Hello, Thomas," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "Is Lord Bridgerton inside?"

Thomas, ever the attentive servant, noticed something amiss in your expression. "I believe Lord Bridgerton is still at the club, Lady Bridgerton," he said gently. "Shall I send up a tray for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, your brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes," you managed to say, "that would be lovely. Thank you, Thomas." You turned and made your way upstairs to your bed chamber, your steps heavy with unease.

You couldn't help but wonder what Anthony was doing at the club for so long, and why he hadn't come home yet.

The thought of him with another woman, enjoying himself in ways he never seemed to enjoy with you, made your stomach churn.

You busied yourself with straightening the bedclothes and rearranging the pillows, trying to distract yourself from the growing ache in your heart.

But as the minutes ticked by and Anthony still hadn't returned, your anxiety only grew worse.

You couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that perhaps Philipa had been right all along.

Maybe Anthony's past truly was catching up with you, and your marriage wasn't as strong as you had once believed it to be.

Finally, you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs.

Your heart leaped into your throat as you hurried over to the window, peeking out through the curtains.

There he was, striding up the walkway, his shoulders squared and his head held high. He looked every bit the gentleman you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

But as he ascended the stairs and disappeared from your view.

Your stomach was knotted with fear. You waited until you heard the butler announce his arrival before you made your way down the hallway, trying to compose yourself.

When you finally stepped into the entryway, Anthony turned toward you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "There you are, dearest," he said, his voice warm and affectionate. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten off to."

Your heart sank even further. You forced a smile and walked toward him, trying to ignore the voice in your head that kept saying that this wasn't real, that he wasn't truly happy to see you.

As you moved toward each other, you let yourself be enveloped in his embrace, breathing in his familiar cologne, feeling the strength of his arms around you.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that everything was going to be all right.

"I was just waiting in the parlor, my lady," Thomas interjected, clearing his throat. "Shall I bring up the tray for Lord Bridgerton now?"

"Yes, please," Anthony said, stepping away from you. "That would be lovely, Thomas. Thank you."

He turned back to you, reaching out to take your hand. "Come, my dear. Let's go eat in the privacy of our chamber. I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly need to discuss? You forced another smile and allowed him to lead you up the stairs and into your bed chamber, following him like a nervous child as he took a seat at the table.

He poured you each a glass of wine before sitting back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you.

"Y/n," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "I need to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted into knots. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "What is it?"

Anthony took a deep breath before continuing. "I love you, y/n. More than anything in this world. You are my wife, my partner, my best friend. But I've been feeling...disconnected from you lately. Like something is missing between us."

He paused, searching your eyes for some sign of understanding. "I want us to be closer. More intimate. I want to feel the way I used to feel when I looked at you, the way I felt when we first met."

Your heart ached as you listened to his words.

A part of you wanted to believe him, to believe that you could find your way back to the love you once shared.

But another part of you couldn't help but wonder if it was all just an act if he was only trying to save face.

You took a sip of your wine, trying to steady your nerves. "I...I want that too," you said, your voice trembling. "I want us to be closer, to feel connected again. But...I don't know how."

Anthony studied your face, his expression softening.

"I think we need to be honest with each other," he said. "To share our fears and our desires. To...explore each other." He took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed.

"I want to make love to you, y/n. Not just tonight, but every night. I want to show you how much you mean to me, how much I desire you."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your heart racing. A part of you wanted to believe that he meant it, that he wanted you the way he used to.

But another part of you couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a ploy to ease his conscience, to make himself feel better about whatever it was he had been doing.

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for some sign of truth.

"I'm...I'm not sure," you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I want to try, Anthony. I want us to try. But I need you to promise me that...that you'll always be honest with me. That you'll never keep anything from me."

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I promise you, my love," he said solemnly.

"I will always be honest with you. And I swear I will never keep anything from you. Not again." His grip on your hand tightened, and you could feel the warmth of his palm through your gloves. "I want this to work between us, y/n. More than anything."

You closed your eyes, trying to decide what to believe. Part of you wanted to believe him, to trust that he could change, that you could find your way back to the love you once shared.

But another part of you was still so insecure, still so hurt by the betrayal. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come.

447 notes · View notes

kasagia · 11 months

Text

My love will never die

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x moon summoner! reader Summary: You knew Aleksander before he was a Black Heretic, a foldmaker. You married him and promised to be by his side through thick and thin. And you never, ever regretted your choice. However, one day, your paths parted in an unfortunate way, and you both believed that the love of your lives was gone forever. After many centuries, you meet again with a man very similar to your Aleksander. And you start to wonder... maybe your love never die after all? Warning(s): ANGST, de@th mention, the reader yearns for Aleksander, and Aleksander yearns for the reader :c I USED FRAGMENT OF THE SONG "Jeg Saler Min Ganger" FROM THE SERIES "LOKI" Nonsense from me: So this is request from @morrigan-crowmwell Thank you so much, I was super excited to write this! I hope this is more or less what you asked for and that you like it.♡♡ I'm sorry it took me soooo long! ♡♡ Word count: 13k

"Aleksander Morozova! You'll be late to meet your mother!" you squealed as he stole another long kiss from you. "We don't have time for this, Sasha." you moaned, when he moved his lips to your sensitive neck.

"Nonsense… I always have time to properly say goodbye to my wife before I leave." he murmured against your skin, sucking on your weak spot behind your ear. He smiled slyly, hearing the sweet moan coming from your red lips, swollen from kissing.

Saints, he could stay in your arms for the rest of eternity.

"As much as your wife loves your goodbyes, she'd rather her mother-in-law didn't wander in the middle of one, looking for her spoiled son."

"This is how you say goodbye to your husband, lapushka? Calling him spoiled and hurting his feelings?" he asked indignantly, hovering over his beautiful wife and looking at her intently. He wanted to burn the view below him into his mind until he was back in her arms again.

"I have been "goodbye-ing" you for three hours, Aleksander. Don't you think that's enough for a 4 day trip?"

"I need at least one more hour to enjoy you." he murmured, placing more kisses on your already-marked neck.

"If Baghra finds us…" you moaned as he bit your neck gently, effectively silencing you, and got out of your head all the reasons why he should go now.

"It would be helpful if you would stop thinking about my mother while I try to kiss every inch of your gorgeous skin. Besides, don't worry about her. She likes you—sometimes even more than her own son, I have to admit. If anything, she'll blame me."

"Don't worry, sobachka (puppy), you'll always be my favourite." you smirked, flipping him onto the mattress of your bed and straddling him, marking his skin with your lips, making sure you'd give him back the same favour.

"I thought we didn't have time for this?" he purred meanly, pleased with your attention.

"Shut up and kiss me, Sasha." you demanded with an equally malicious gleam in your eyes, knowing full well how this would end. Bagra was right. You had him wrapped around your little finger. Which was good considering how many female Grishas wanted to catch his eye.

"As you wish, milaya." without a second's hesitation, he grabbed your cheek and pulled you into a kiss, pinning you back under him on the mattress.

Disappointment, as usual, overtook you after waking up from this beautiful dream. During those few centuries, flashbacks about HIM only became more frequent. Someone should hang that fool who said time heals all wounds. In your case, it only made it worse.

You'd give anything to go back a few hundred years and not let him go alone with his mother on this trip. You didn't even remember why they went to Aleksander's sister.

You had a vague memory of that day, only remembering the morning with your husband and the fragments of the Fjerdans' attack on your village.

But the moment you found out you were a moon summoner will forever be etched deep in your memories.

You helped your best friend's family and herself escape when the men attacked you. You defended yourself using all the tricks and attacks Alexander had taught you, but it wasn't enough against a band of trained soldiers.

Just as he was about to slash his sword at you, you felt heat radiating deep from your chest. You screamed, falling to your knees as light began to emit from you, blinding some soldiers and killing those close to you. The first time you've used the cut and your power.

You escaped with your friend and her brother - the last survivors, and hid in the city, pretending to be siblings who managed to survive the great fire caused by Grisha.

It was hard to pretend to hate your own people and even harder to hide your new powers. But the hardest thing was going through all this without Aleksander by your side.

You tried to contact him, search in every possible way. But the world was different back then. Your attempts in advance were doomed to failure. And you knew it. But your stupid heart made you search for your husband until the end.

And you did. Until the news of the Black Heretic, the shadow summoner, who died while creating the fold, spread across the world.

You mourned Aleksander for a long time. Your life went on, but the wound of losing your husband never healed. And you knew it wouldn't. He was your great, true love. Your end game. It was impossible to let him go, to make place in your heart for someone new.

Time passed, and everything around you slowly changed. Except you. Your friends got old, grey, and wrinkled. And you remained the same as those decades ago. Then you discovered your second curse. You were immortal.

You and Aleksander could have lived together forever if not for Shu Han's and Fjerda's people.

It was the time when you vowed to finish Aleksander's work at any cost. His sacrifice will not be in vain. You were supposed to build a Ravka safe for the Grishas. All you needed was a sun and shadow summoner.

So you waited. At any sign of the sun summoner's presence. You knew Aleksander's lineage was fine. People often spoke of the descendants of the Black Heretic. You've never come close to them. You didn't want to relive the pain that would be associated with being with a member of his family. Aleksander had no children, but his sister probably did; maybe even Baghra found someone - you weren't sure about the old woman's fate.

The past centuries have not been kind to you. But this month was fruitful in terms of good news. The sun summoner has been found, the king of Ravka was ill, and your men were on the trail of Morozova's deer.

And that's how you were on your way to meet Alina Starkov and the descendant of the Morozovas, General Kirigan.

You were supposed to change the world together - in memory of your Aleksander.

~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander had never been in such a hurry to get home before.

He was so desperate to have you in his arms again that he even ignored all of his mother's taunts, remarks, and other snide comments. All that mattered to him now was coming home to you.

That's why he bravely endured his mother's teasing remarks as they rode horseback towards your cottage.

He was excited, only moments away from returning to the love of his life.

He missed you more than he dared admit to anyone. And he was a little ashamed of how an ordinary woman without Grisha's powers, like you, could have such power over him.

NO. You were not ordinary. You were his wife, friend, lover, support, rock, asylum, home. The only one to whom he entrusted his heart and soul voluntarily and without the slightest hesitation.

And with this gift his sister gave him, Aleksander will make sure you stay with him forever. That you'll live as long as he does. Neither of them, nor he, Baghra, nor his sister knew if this "gift" would work.

But Aleksander would be damned if he didn't try to keep you in his arms forever.

It didn't matter how many times he failed, trying to make you his equal, trying to turn you into a Grisha with similar powers to his. He was ready to do everything for you.

Aleksander sped up seeing your house. In his haste, he didn't even notice that he had lost his mother and that the scenery around him seemed to be getting darker and more frightening.

He practically leapt off his horse and raced to the door, opening it and rushing inside as fast as he could.

"Y/N?! Sweetheart, I'm home!" he shouted, expecting that as soon as you heard his voice, you would come running, throwing yourself into his arms.

But he was greeted by nothing but a terrible, deadly silence.

The scattered things in the corridor made him slightly anxious, but he dismissed his dark thoughts by saying that you were a little mess. However, after he still didn't hear any response from you, he started to worry.

He entered the living room only to find shattered furniture, an overturned bookshelf, and a broken window.

He panicked. He went mad with fear, screaming your name and running around the house like crazy, looking for you or any clues to where you might have run away.

His heart stopped when he found your battered body under an overturned wardrobe.

In the blink of an eye, he got you out from under the furniture and took you in his arms, trying to bring you back to consciousness.

"Y/N, please, Y/N, open your eyes! You can't leave me, not like that! Y/N! My sweet wife, my heart, please open your eyes!" he was shaking you in panic, begging all the saints to prove his dark suppositions wrong.

"Aleksander?" your quiet, tearful whisper both relieved him and broke his heart.

You lived. He hasn't lost you yet.

NO.

He couldn't lose you. He has to take you to the healer.

"Yes, love, it's me. Everything is fine now. I got you. Just stay with me until I get a help."

"You promised to protect me... why didn't you protect me, Aleksander? Have you stopped loving me?" your desperate whimper tore his soul in half. He began to shake all over, despising the feeling of helplessness and distress that had completely taken over him.

"What? No, I'll always love only you..." he felt your body suddenly go limp in his arms. He gripped your shoulders even tighter, shaking you in his panic attack. "Y/N? Y/N?! Y/N open your eyes! Y/N no! Don't leave me! Darling, no!" he screamed desperately in pain, burying his head in your hair and crying as he knelt on the floor and rocked with your cold body in his arms.

~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander sprang from his bed.

The general was breathing fast, trying to calm himself after another nightmare involving you.

His beautiful wife. His epic love.

For hundreds of years, the day he lost the only love of his life played out in his nightmares in different ways. This time, his subconscious was kind enough to let him talk to you for a while. Usually, he finds your body either impaled or dismembered. He never managed to save you. With none of those dreams.

His dreams might have macabred the events of that day, but he had never, in all those hundreds of years of his life, forgotten what really happened. He has not forgotten the grief, anger, sadness, and despair that overcame him when he and Baghra found their village burned to the ground without any trace of you.

Despite his search, he still didn't know what really happened to you, and he doubted he'd ever find out the truth. If all this had happened a few years later, if he hadn't been a boy just discovering the true power growing within him then, but the man he is now, you'd never despair like that. You'd never leave him to mourn over the future you two could have if only he was more powerful.

He was trying to fool himself. Telling himself that if you survived, you would have lived a much better life than you'd lived with him by your side. What could he have given you, then? An uncertain future, living in hiding, being hunted by the king's men? You were worth much more. You were worth all the jewels and treasures of this land, safety, peace, family, and happiness. Aleksander couldn't give you that. Not then.

He couldn't remember how many sleepless nights he'd spent wishing he could meet you now, to have you by his side, when he was this powerful man who could look after you properly, who would throw the world at your feet or burn it to the ground, depending on your humour.

But every time the sun came up and he had to continue playing his new role, the bitter reality made him realise that he would never have you again. He will never feel your soft skin under his fingers again, never lose himself in those beautiful, mesmerising irises, never run his hand through your hair, never take in your wonderful, intoxicating scent, and never taste your alluring, feisty lips again.

He was alone. And he will be until the end.

Until he widens the fold and makes sure no more Grisha dies at the hands of common otkazat'sya. That none of his people will repeat your fate.

He was supposed to change the world - in memory of his Y/N.

And then, maybe fate will be kind enough to reunite him with his beloved wife on the other side.

~•♤♤♤•~

Alina Starkov was a pain in the ass.

It took the girl only 15 minutes to run away from Kirigan's Grishas and get herself into trouble. She has damn luck that you decided to follow her and rescue her sunny ass.

You disappeared as soon as you made eye contact with her after you burned the Fjerdans with your pale, white light.

You wandered through the forest, cursing under your breath at the carelessness of both sun and shadow summoners. You didn't know which was worse, the impetuous girl or the thoughtless general who just let her get away.

With helpers like that, you'll have to work twice as hard to make the fold bigger. Fate really had no mercy on you.

You stood by the river, sighing in relief as you washed the blood from your face with cold water.

Your moment of peace didn't last long, however. You sensed an additional presence—someone creeping towards you. You took out one of your daggers and braced yourself for an attack.

But the moment you turned to face your opponent, you froze.

Aleksander...

He was standing in front of you. In a black kefta, a man so like your husband that just looking at him hurts you more than any blade could. This gaze, this face, were hunting you each night, every time you closed your eyes. And now he was standing right before you.

And the worst of it all was that it wasn't your Aleksander.

Only his descendant looking just like him. A shell that resembles the only man you've ever loved.

In your rage, you attacked him first, taking out your anger on him for the saints for continuing to play you mercilessly by putting your husband's doppelgänger in your way.

But Kirigan did not give up so easily. As soon as you moved towards him, he too snapped out of his strange daze and drew his dagger as well. The clang of metal echoed across the clearing as you both tried to find the other's weak spot. Oddly enough, you both did it at the same time.

"Put that down and I'll consider whether or not to spare your life." he growled, holding your arm in a tight grip as he felt your nails digging through the skin on his hand.

"Femoral artery. You'll bleed out faster than me." you replied with a malicious smirk, ignoring his threats.

"Who are you?"

"My mother taught me better than to make friends with the stranger freak in the forest, sir. Especially when they have a dagger dangerously close to my back." you kicked him, pushing him away from you, and attacked again. The clanking of steel against each other echoed across the clearing as your daggers met halfway. You growled in frustration, pushing him away.

"Your mother should teach you not to attack everyone you meet. You may encounter someone much stronger than you." Kirigan recovered faster this time, storming at you.

You ended up in a rather uncomfortable position as you held the steel against his heart and he wrapped his arm halfway around you, pulling you close. You didn't know if you were more dissatisfied with the metal digging into your chest or with his hands on you.

"And yours that you shouldn't raise a hand against a woman. I guess they both failed."

Did you both just say the exact same thing when you first met your husband? Yes.

Will he get lenient treatment from you just because he looks like your Aleksander? Absolutely fucking no.

Taking advantage of his moment of inattention as he stared at you distractedly, you pulled out the second hidden dagger and placed it against his neck. You tried to push his hand away from you, but the man, feeling the extra-cold blade against his skin, woke up from his trance and grabbed your left hand aggressively.

He moved your blade away from his neck and pinned you to the tree, slamming your left hand hard against the trunk, making the weapon fly out of your hand and bury itself in the ground near his foot.

Kirigan pressed his dagger to your side, leaning closer to you. He stared intently into your eyes, and for a brief moment you saw longing flicker in his dark eyes, which then gave way to rage and frustration, equal to the one that exploded inside you the moment you saw him. The moment you noticed that saints still played cruel with you by creating someone so damn similar to your husband.

He has no right to have the same face and eyes as your lost love.

"What. Are. You?" he asked, pausing on each word to intimidate you and bring his face closer to yours. But you didn't care much. You have hundreds of years; nothing, especially the doppelgänger of the man you love, could scare you.

You stared at each other with hostile eyes, and for some reason (other than your dagger at his thigh), he had some sort of hatred for you as well. So much so that he didn't notice how your powers reached for each other where your skin touched.

Strangely, it felt familiar to you. HE felt familiar.

You stared into each other's eyes as you unknowingly leaned in closer. You were about to try to break free from his grip when a sudden snap of branches caught your attention.

"That's you! She saved me from the Frejdans, sir." Alina's voice pulled him out of this strange moment between you two.

You wanted to find a sun summoner. You spent several hundred years on this, but the girl had hellishly bad timing.

Kirigan moved away from you, but you both continued to aim your daggers at each other, not trusting each other for a moment. Even though Alina just admitted that you saved her life.

"Why did you do that?"

"Someone so powerful like you should recognise when they stand before their equal, general Kirigan." you sneered, glancing for a moment at the woman standing next to both of you. Fortunately, nothing happened to her. She had a few scratches, but nothing that even the most ordinary medic couldn't heal.

"And how exactly are we equal?"

You smirked mischievously as you slipped the dagger into your sheath.

You linked your hands, focusing on the warm feeling of your light coursing through your veins, and without taking your eyes off the general's, you pulled them apart, revealing a thread of white light. You spread your arms wider, causing the rays to illuminate the clearing around you.

They both stared at you in amazement as your light turned into stars, which then arranged themselves into constellations. Figures of saints ran around you until you flicked your wrist to make them disappear.

"Melinoe Petrova. Moon Summoner. I think the three of us are going to change the world together."

You watched the speechless Alina with satisfaction, but your smile faded as you shifted your gaze to Kirigan. You had some difficulty reading him, but even more so understanding the longing in his eyes.

It seems your problems with a shadowman have only just begun…

~•♤♤♤•~

Kirigan didn't trust you.

You weren't surprised by it, but you hoped it would be easier for you to manipulate him. Apparently, the descendant of Aleksander inherited family cunning and distrust.

It's been a month since your little encounter (and fight) in the woods. In the meantime, you've been living in the Little Palace with the other Grishas; you met the king and got your own fancy kefta.

Black kefta. With moons, stars, and so on.

You wouldn't care about the colour of the fabric if it didn't turn out that only Kirigan wore one. Bloody Alina was the first to find Genya and get herself a blue one. So you stayed in your black kefta, pretending the general wasn't trying to mark you as his property.

But the son of a bitch liked your look in his colours too much for you to accept it.

It didn't help that he was too much like your Aleksander, either. Many times you've held back from taunting, making snide comments, or yelling at him just because those fucking dark eyes looked at you, taking you back hundreds of years to the time when HE was by your side and looked at you like that.

The similarity between them was not only in appearance. They had a lot in common when it came to character traits. Stubborn, mischievous, prescient, well-read... sometimes, when you spent too much time in his war room, you found yourself thinking of him as your Aleksander.

So slowly, despite all your self-loathing, you fell in love with the general.

That's why you were hiding from him in the library, hoping Alina, Zoya, or anyone else would keep him busy tonight enough to forget that you were supposed to meet him after dinner.

You had to suppress that stupid feeling. He was not Aleksander. He was just your husband's doppelgänger. Just a shell of your lover.

"Mel? Are you okey?" Alina's soft, concerned whisper snapped you out of your thoughts.

"I'm fine. Another nightmare?" you asked, patting the space next to you and opening the edge of the blanket for the girl to sit with you.

Your beginnings with Alina were not colourful; the sunny girl irritated you and could easily throw you off balance. But as time passed, you became friends to the point where you comforted her after her nightmares about the fold and the deaths of her loved ones. Sometimes you would read her old Ravkan fairy tales or sneak into the kitchen for hidden sweets. In more critical situations, you would drag her outside to the gardens, where you would sit on the pier by the lake, watching it gleam in the moonlight.

In a way, you too found solace in comforting the girl. It was nice to have company after being alone for so long. Fighting your past, which was showing up in your dreams, was easier with a ray of sunshine by your side.

"No. This time I can't sleep."

"Are you bothered by overly comfortable pillows, or maybe our princess felt a pea under the mattress?" Alina snorted, shaking her head. It took her some time to realise that your sarcastic remarks were not intended to offend her but merely to make her laugh.

"I'm thinking about Mal."

"Oh yeah… your boyfriend and childhood friend, what's up with him?" you asked, slamming the book shut to turn all your attention to the black-haired girl.

"He's not my boyfriend. We are only friends." she murmured, blushing, obviously awkward at your apt comment.

"Sunshine, I can recognise the face and eyes of a woman in love. You can't hide your feelings from me."

"Well, you're not the only one with this gift. Kirigan also gives you an infatuated man's look. Don't deny it! Even Ivan can see it. I think that already half of the second army knows about their general's fondness for the moon summoner." she teased you with a cocky smirk on her face. You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your book.

"Please, half of the Grishas look at me like that."

You knew what Alina meant. Kirigan looked to you as the solution to his fold problems - as did the other Grishas. Little did they know that instead of being their saviour, you gonna be their worst nightmare... a White Heretic.

"No, not in that way. They look at you, at us, as saints, as saviours who can destroy the fold. He admires you, not your power. And judging by the fact that you're still wearing a black kefta, he's not indifferent to you either."

You inadvertently snuggled deeper into the black material. Alina was partly right; maybe you didn't want to get involved in any romance, but it would definitely be easier to manipulate the general who is infatuated with you. You could have taken advantage of the fact that seeing you in his colours put him in a strangely pleasant mood. You've used your black clothes more than once as a weapon in your negotiations with the dark general.

"I have a black kefta because some irritatingly fast sun summoner found Genya first and got herself a dark blue one. You didn't leave me much choice, Alina."

"How sorry I am for that. By the way, Kirigan asked about you. He waits in his chambers, longing to finally see you after you've been ruthlessly ignoring him all day."

"I'm not done with you, Starkov!" you shouted after her, but the girl was already at the door, sticking her tongue out at you.

"See you in the morning, Petrova! You will tell me about your meeting with the General." she said as she walked away, slamming the library door.

"That little bitch." you muttered under your breath, wondering if you should go. You could have lied to him and said that you didn't meet Alina and forgot about your meeting. You only doubted the sun summoner's loyalty to you...

However, you started gathering your things, knowing full well that you would have to leave the library anyway.

You frowned as you heard soft footsteps behind you that probably no normal human would have heard… at least not one who hadn't lived at least a hundred years of hiding and running.

"Ivan." you greeted him without turning to face him. The man stopped, obviously surprised that you sensed his presence. However, he quickly returned to his unemotional mode.

"Miss Petrova. The General requests your presence in the war room."

"I was on my way." you replied, knowing full well that the man knew the truth. More than once, he chased you around the Little Palace at the general's behest. Fortunately, he had enough sense in his head not to make Kirigan aware that your memory was reliable and you didn't meet him only out of your own reluctance (actually, a huge desire to see him). "Alina just told me he wants to see me."

Ivan nodded and waited for you to escort you to the war room.

~•♤♤♤•~

Considering the fact that you were a regular visitor to Kirigan's war room, you should know the way to his chambers. But each time, you seemed to take a completely different route than the last time.

Ivan had to repay your elusiveness by making the longest trips to the general's room.

But this time, heartrender quickly dropped you off at his general's door and, wishing you good night, disappeared into one of the corridors.

You sighed, not wanting to face your growing infatuation and subsequent attempts to manipulate the general into carrying out your plans today.

You opened the door, entering the "vestibule". You pricked up your ears as you heard Kirigan talking to someone very familiar. Zoya.

"You used to call on me. On times like this. Your table wasn't messy, and in bed, it was me instead of these books. I can help you make it all right. Just let yourself relax." without knowing why, you wanted to go in there and interrupt whatever plan she had to seduce him. And not because you felt jealousy eating you up inside. You were supposed to be the one to lead him by the nose to do whatever you wanted. Not that windy bitch who was ruining your plan.

"I shall relax when my moon summoner comes here to help me with this. With her by my side, you don't need to worry about me anymore. I'm with the perfect helper." you chuckled internally, wanting so much to see the look on her face after he had rejected her. You figured this would be the perfect time to step in.

"Am I disturbing?" you asked as you walked inside.

If Zoya was an inferni, the general's room would probably go up in flames at the sight of you. Kirigan, on the other hand, seemed very pleased to see you. His eyes were focused only on you. And your black nightgown, over which you threw on (also the black) kefta he ordered.

"Not at all. Zoya was about to leave a few minutes ago."

"General." he said. Kirigan did not even glare at her as she bowed to him. She walked past you, giving you a hostile look, which you only smirked at.

"Didn't you forget something?" Kirigan's sharp question broke the silence between the three of you. Zoya stood immobile, as if engraved. She stared at the general for a moment, then clenched her hands into fists and bowed to you.

"Miss Petrova." she growled, then stormed out of the war room, slamming the door.

"It wasn't necessary. You'll only infuriate her more by forcing her to show me respect." you said, turning to face the general, who was suddenly right behind you. He was the only one who could sneak up on you. A skill he used extensively.

"You're the moon summoner… you'll get all the respect you deserve. I'll make sure about it." he murmured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You can't make people do it. Respect is something that has to be earned, something that has no meaning if it is given involuntarily." his silence surprised you. He usually answered your words with 10 of his. But now he was staring at you silently, which didn't help your already fast-beating heart. "So what do we have on the agenda today, general? Arguments about whether we really need First Army soldiers or you don't know where Loavana is."

"I know where Loavana is. I was tired then, and besides, you were the one who turned the map and misled me."

"Of course, general." you snorted, smiling teasingly. You moved to the other side of the table, tactically increasing the distance between you. "So, did you summon me for any reason other than staring at my natural glow? Because honestly, I'm getting a little bored." you said as you sat down on the table and casually reached for one of the orders he had written.

"Always impatient." he muttered, suddenly appearing in front of you and gently taking the paper from your hand.

"Always too mysterious."

"This may surprise you, but I have other things on my mind than your natural glow, little moon."

"What a shame." you murmured, placing your hand over your heart in a hurt gesture. But you became serious when you saw him staring dully at the map. "What's bothering you?"

"The Fjerdans have moved closer to our border."

"How many?" you asked, jumping off the table and turning your full attention to the distressed general.

"Several branches. Enough to get our attention and attack one of our regiments." he replied, pouring himself a glass of liquor and handing you your own.

"We need to speed up Alina's training. Before all hell breaks loose and our great king orders our troops to be divided to fight the Fjerdans. The fold case must be finally closed. Before we go to another war. For now, we have to send some of our healers and additional troops there. If there are more of Grishas there, no Fjerdan will dare attack them. They will shift their attention to the soldiers of the first army, and this will no longer be a direct problem for us." you turned to him, confused by his silence. Kirigan stared at you with a gentle, tender smile on his face and a longing, dreamy look. The silence between the two of you and the gaze he was giving you embarrassed you. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?"

"No." he grunted, shaking his head as he blushed slightly when you caught him staring. "I just... I was fighting this war alone for so long."

This was the moment. You had to cast your net over him, surround him at his most vulnerable, and make him fall for you.

But you forgot to guard your own heart in the process...

You grabbed his hand. Your powers combined as usual when your skin touched, causing you to be enveloped in the utter darkness of his shadows, with only the white light emanating from your joined hands illuminating your faces.

"You're not alone." you whispered, afraid to break the spell between you. Afraid that the moment your voice reaches him, those damn hypnotic eyes will tear away from yours. Afraid your mind is about to scold the stupid heart that beat for the man before you. A man who, for the sake of your sanity, was too much like the husband you loved.

"I've been waiting a long time for you." he replied just as quietly, afraid to break the sanctity of the moment. Afraid it was another of his cruel dreams where he would have your dead body in his arms again. But the reality was even more brutal for him. Because the woman who stood before him, the woman who looked exactly like his wife, wasn't her at all. And that didn't stop his cold, centuries-old heart from beating for her.

"Believe me, not as long as me." you whispered. Tears began to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill out as he raised his other trembling hand and cupped your cheek. The feel of his cold hand on your face made you realise what you were doing. He was not Aleksander. He wasn't yours. And you will never be his. "I think I should go." you grunted, stepping away from him.

His shadows returned to him, as did your light. Everything has returned to normal. Except for the frantic beating of the hearts of the two of you.

"Don't forget about tomorrow's ball. We're supposed to put on a little show for the king and his nobility."

"How could I forget that we're supposed to be circus monkeys tomorrow?" you asked with a pugnacious smirk, to which he just shook his head in amusement.

"Don't let anyone else hear it. I don't want to visit you in a dungeon… however tempting you look in chains." his bold suggestion shocked you, but you decided to play on without giving him a chance to have the last word. You walked over to him and, ignoring his intense gaze, whispered in his ear with your lips brushing his earlobe.

"I'm not that easy to put in chains, general." you brushed his cheek with yours and disappeared from the war room at the speed of light.

It was something you could do. Game, flirt, chase, challenge—all kept away from any emotion other than lust. It was a game. Manipulation game. And you were going to win it. For your Aleksander and other Grishas.

~•♤♤♤•~

Your dress was so beautiful and wonderful. You admire Genya's skills, but what she did for you this time was indescribable.

With trembling hands, you smoothed the fabric of the dress around your waist, admiring the intricate embroidery of the constellations. The white and silver threads shone in the candlelight like real stars on your dark blue dress.

You didn't like getting dressed up, getting your hair up in a fancy hairstyle, or wearing those uncomfortable ball gowns. In fact, you've only worn formal clothes a few times in your life. But only twice did you feel like a true goddess, a queen. Today and on your wedding day.

"Who put that veil on you?" Baghra's grumpy tone snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You had a lovely dress, even considering that neither you nor Aleksander and his mother had as much money compared to other families. But it didn't matter. Not for you. The most important was Alexander and you. And not the judgmental looks of other people. It was your day and no one could ruin it for you.

"Myself. Something's wrong?"

The woman sighed as she walked over to you and unfastened it with unusual delicacy for her, mumbling something about your blindness as she adjusted your crooked veil.

"Now. You look almost properly. You're missing one thing."

"Which is?"

She reached into the pouch strapped to her side and pulled out something shiny. She gestured for you to turn towards the mirror. You did it while watching a woman put the most beautiful necklace you've ever seen around your neck.

"Bagra is… it's wonderful. I can't…"

"Yes, you can. And you will be. I won't let that old hag gossip about my daughter looking like a poor peasant on her wedding day."

"Thank you." you whispered in a shaky voice, more concerned that the woman called you her daughter than the ridiculously expensive and beautiful necklace.

"Come on. Don't cry, or you'll turn red and scare everyone, including my son. You'd better hurry up. The boy is about to have a heart attack if you're another minute late. If it wasn't for Ulla, he would have run here 10 minutes ago."

"Did she manage to come?" you asked as she took your arm with the obvious intention of walking you down the aisle.

"Of course. That's my daughter. She wouldn't waste the opportunity to tease her crazy-in-love brother." you giggled, not missing her little smile. The woman stopped right in front of the exit door, giving you a serious look. "Y/N, are you absolutely sure you want this? You know our true origins, my boy's character, and all the dark things our family has been through. Are you absolutely sure you want to join this mess? 'Cause once we walk through that door, there's no turning back."

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Baghra."

"No. I need to hear it. Do you truly want this?"

"I dream of nothing more than marrying Aleksander, and spending my whole life with him, no matter how long or short it may be."

The woman nodded silently and opened the door.

A wide smile appeared on your face as soon as your gaze met the clearly nervous Aleksander. He calmed down the moment he saw you, an equally goofy, in-love smirk playing on his lips. And when he finally had you at arm's length, he didn't hesitate to grab your hands in his firm grip, never taking his eyes off yours for a moment.

It was just you and him. Lost in your love.

And so began your little eternity together... shorter than either of you would have liked.

You'll always remember that day, even if it was associated with bittersweet memories of your all-too-short marriage. A single tear fell from your eye. You wiped it with the sleeve of your dress.

Your hand automatically wandered under your dress, absently stroking the Baghra's necklace to which you had attached your wedding ring. The only memento of your past.

In another life, you and Aleksander could have had it all.

"Little moon? Are you ready?" Kirigan entered your room." We're going... soon." you could see in the mirror how he froze as his eyes met your reflection in the silver mirror.

You turned to him, making a sweeping movement with your skirt. You wouldn't waste your chance to be a diva. However, you yourself soon succumbed to a similar blackout as his as soon as you assumed the general's appearance.

The saints really liked to torment you.

There was no other explanation for why the man in front of you looked almost exactly like your husband on your wedding day.

Aleksander couldn't take his eyes off her. She was perfect. Ethereal, otherworldly, and breathtaking. His Y/N... No. She wasn't her. No one could be her, not even a woman with her face. Which didn't stop him from giving himself to this dream that it was his wife standing in front of him. He spent hundreds of years in suffering; maybe this one night he can afford to live in his most beautiful dreams, where SHE would still be with him.

He cleared his throat, snapping you both out of the strange, nostalgic atmosphere.

"You look amazing." you blushed as you turned back to the mirror, pretending to consider the truth of his compliment.

"Thank you. Genya makes wonderful dresses." you reached for the kefta thrown over the armchair, but the man beat you to it.

"Please, allow me." you nodded to him. You turned your back to him, waiting for him to put the kefta on your shoulders.

He smoothed it out, letting his hand brush the fabric of your bare collarbones for a moment too long. You shivered as you felt the tiny touch of his fingertips on your bare skin. Good thing the kefta covered most of your bare arms. You didn't want to give him satisfaction for how he was affecting you.

But judging by his dilated pupils, you weren't the only one who felt the attraction between the two of you.

However, you will definitely not be the one to give in to such trivial desires. He was not Aleksander. Nobody could.

"Thank you again." you murmured as you pulled away from him, smiling. You preferred to act oblivious to his advances rather than risk giving in to the lust that was evident between the two of you. Although you knew there would come a point in your little game where you'd have to seduce him a bit to lull his guard down. And you feared that moment more than entering the fold.

"Anytime, love. Shall we?" he asked, offering you his arm. "I hope you spare me at least one dance." he murmured, smiling at you with that flirty twinkle in his eyes as he kissed your hand.

Wonderfully. Now he was supposed to be your personal bodyguard for all night.

You sighed, grabbing his arm. Kirigan pulled you closer as he escorted you through the maze of corridors.

It was going to be a really tough day. - you thought, allowing yourself to steal a glance at the general who was already watching you. - Especially with those eyes so focused on me.

~•♤♤♤•~

The Kirigan left you alone for a moment just before entering the ballroom. You were to wait for him and Alina, and then the three of you were to give little shows of darkness and light.

So you waited patiently until someone bumped into you, knocking you to the floor.

"Watch where you walk!" you growled, dusting yourself off as you got up off the floor. The hooded figure stopped and turned to you. You both froze when you saw your faces.

"Y/N?" Baghra asked in disbelief. "It is impossible." she whispered, coming closer to you and catching your hand in a strong, bruising grip, only to grab your necklace later, which had slipped out from under your dress after you fell. She looked at him tenderly, shifting her gaze to you.

"Hello mom." you whispered uncertainly, fearing your mother-in-law's reaction. She liked you, it's true, but in the meantime, you managed to disappear without a trace for hundreds of years. You didn't know what your relationship was like now. But rather, neither of you could be hostile to the other.

"It's really you… But how? I… we thought you were dead, child. Where have you been all this time?"

"A little here, a little there. Forgive me for not writing or coming. I think you understand perfectly well why I didn't."

"Not even a bit, actually." she replied, confused. You frowned. You've never seen Baghra confused. It was a strange sight, to say the least, and definitely worth remembering.

"You know how dear he was... Aleksander is to me. After his death..."

"Death?" she asked. You didn't know if you misheard or if the surprise in her voice was genuine. She rather knew about his death, didn't she?

"Yes. While creating a fold." you explained, looking at her intently. But Baghra's face never betrayed anything. Not any single emotion. She tucked the necklace under your dress and grabbed your shoulders.

"Oh, my dear child. For all this time..."

"Baghra!" Kirigan's scream echoed through the empty corridor. The woman stepped back from you like she was burned, watching the general with contempt as he approached the two of you. "What are you talking about with my moon summoner? I hope she didn't bother you too much, Miss Petrova."

"Not at all. Actually…"

"I was just leaving, moi soverenyi." the woman interrupted you, giving you an enigmatic look, before she turned her back to you two. "Enjoy yourself, Miss Petrova." she threw over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Crazy woman. But he teaches the young Grisha well. What did she want from you?"

"Nothing special. She asked where I was from and what I was doing here. I don't think she's heard of the new moon summoner yet."

"Probably you are right. Let's go. We've got a show to play."

He took your hand gently and led you to the centre of the room, where Alina was already waiting for you.

You had a simple task. Kirigan summons shadows. Alina, on the other side of the room, her golden rays, and you, the white moonlight that was supposed to connect with her powers, then break up into several constellations.

A child's trick and spectacle for the common folk who treated you like toys all rolled into one.

Everything was going smoothly. Suddenly, the room was completely dark. You waited patiently for Alina's light to appear on the other side of the room. When suddenly someone approached you from behind.

"It's okay, it's me. It's just me, you're safe."

"What are you doing?" you asked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, taking both of your hands in his.

"Don't you think this is the best place to watch the whole show?" his question confused you. You turned in his arms, miraculously seeing those bloody, dark eyes in the darkness. The mischievous sparks both made your chest feel warm and terrified. The bastard was up to something.

"I doubt it; with my light, you'll barely see Alina's trick."

"Works perfectly for me, my little moon." he whispered against your ear. You tensed as you felt his soft lips on your earlobe.

Suddenly he leaned in, the tip of his nose tracing a path from your ear down your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he inhaled your perfume and those damn distracting lips slid from your ear to your neck.

He started placing small, wet kisses there. Your brain has melted. It stopped working while the general was kissing every sensitive spot on your neck. He read your body so damn well that if it weren't for his quick reflexes and his hand over your mouth, your loud, obscene groan would have echoed in the darkness of the ballroom.

You felt the light involuntarily escape from you and thanked all the saints that you lost control just as Alina finished her part.

You tried to push the shadow summoner away from you, but your attempts were so futile (and reluctant) that you quickly gave up, focusing on doing your job with his intoxicating mouth and roaming hands on you.

The son of a bitch was lucky to stay in the shadows, unseen by anyone but you.

You internally cursed yourself for how much easier it was to do the whole trick with him around.

To your great disappointment, he moved away from you just before the grand finale. You were panting, trying to calm your wildly beating heart, and breathing as the light began to take over the ballroom.

And those fucking dark eyes and smug smirk were the first damn thing you saw when you and Alina lit up the room.

People started applauding. Kirigan came up to you and grabbed your hand, and after Alina joined you, you bowed to everyone, gathering an ovation. You glanced briefly at Kirigan, who was staring at your neck. You just hoped he didn't leave a hickey in plain sight. But judging by the way his smirk widened and the way he ran away from you as soon as you were surrounded by a crowd of people, you assumed you had a new, not-so-visible yet bruise on your skin.

You'll kill him as soon as you get your hands on him.

~•♤♤♤•~

You stand in the darkness of his war room, waiting for him to finally appear. You played with the dagger in your hands, contemplating meeting Baghra. You felt something was wrong, something was missing. The woman's behaviour both helped you and, after the general's arrival, gave you a lot to think about. She was hiding something. But what?

you sighed. If only Aleksander was here. It would save you a lot of trouble. Among other things, intimidating his doppelgänger, who started to stick to you too much - much to your tacit approval.

But you were aware that this attraction was only due to his resemblance to your Aleksander. In a few decades, Kirigan will die too. And you will be completely alone again.

The sound of his boots hitting the floor snapped you out of your thoughts. You braced yourself for an attack and jumped on him just as he flanked the door and stepped inside. You pinned him against the wall with a dagger to his neck as he gave you a surprised, amused look.

"Hello, moonlight. Do you like the ball?"

"What the hell was that?!" you growled, pressing the blade against his skin as you made a small, harmless cut.

"You put a dagger to my neck far too often, darling." he noted, frowning as droplets of blood decorated the silver metal.

"Don't change the fucking subject! You have no damn right to act like this. Lay your hand on me like that again, and I'll make sure you don't have anything to summon your shadows with, general."

"So my lips on your incredibly alluring soft skin were no problem for you, my sweet moon?" he asked maliciously, raising an eyebrow. You growled, irritated by his arrogance. You guessed you preferred it when he responded to your attack with his own dagger.

"Do that again, and you won't live to see another moment to find out."

"You forget..." he mumbled, suddenly grabbing your hand holding the blade and wrapping his other around your neck. He pinned you against the wall, making sure there was no space between you two. "That you're not the only one with power here."

"You'd better let me go, little shadow, before you unleash hell you can't stop." you growled, summoning your light, which immediately met his shadows. You fought, jostling with your powers and staring hard into each other's eyes. You weren't going to lose this fight.

"You underestimate me, darling. I'm more than able to face any of your hell."

You didn't know why, but that sentence, the confidence in his eyes, the arrogance in his voice, and the same immense need that was hiding under both yours and his mask of restraint changed something between you two.

His already dark eyes were practically taken over by black pupils that stared at you lustfully. The intoxicating smell of his perfume, the warmth of his body, and those damn big, cool hands on your hot skin only made you accept your spur-of-the-moment decision.

With his hand still tightly wrapped around your neck, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

You both groaned in unison. Your only consolation in this situation was that before your hands hooked on his strong arms, holding on tightly for fear your legs would give out, you could hear his dagger first drop to the marble floor, seconds before your blade.

You only broke apart for a moment before quickly removing the other's kefta and catching the other's lips again. You fought for control, biting into the other's lip every now and then, which only met with more resistance and the will to fight. Neither you nor he were made to lose.

At one point, he grabbed you by the waist, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you to the nearest flat surface—the war table. With one flick of his hand, he swept all the maps, papers, and other stuff off him onto the floor and practically threw you onto a wooden table.

You gasped in shock as your body suddenly hit the wood, which Kirigan quickly took advantage of. He dug into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours as he tried to dominate you once again.

You growled, grabbing the back of his black shirt and tearing the fabric to get to his skin, where you didn't hesitate to leave blood crescents in the shape of your fingernails.

He hissed away from your kiss-swollen lips and bit into the same damn spot on your neck where he had dared leave a hickey before.

Aleksander...

You froze. It wasn't Aleksander. It will never be your Aleksander again. No matter how damn similar they were.

Kirigan continued to kiss your neck when you finally decided, with a heavy heart, to push him away with a gentle kick.

You both stared at each other, gasping for breath. Kirigan took a hesitant step towards you and raised his hand to gently stroke your cheek. But you jumped off the war table before his skin could touch yours and start your kissing session all over again.

You had to escape from there. As soon as possible.

"I... I should go." you mumbled, shoving past him to pick up the kefta that had been thrown on the floor by him.

"Wait a second..." he followed you but stopped the moment his eyes met yours again. You both wanted each other. You were both held back by the very same thing that attracted you in the first place.

"We have a hard day tomorrow. Make sure Ivan wakes up Alina; she's not such an early riser after all." you mumbled in panic, backing towards the door.

"Melinoe." he tried to stop you, but your hand on the doorknob was faster. You opened the door, and without looking back, you threw over your shoulder:

"Good night, general."

You ran to your room, and before anyone could stop you, you shut the door. Tears began to flow freely from your eyes as you slid to the floor.

For a moment, a fleeting little moment, you were Y/N again. You were that 20-year-old girl kissing her husband again. But Kirigan could never be Aleksander. And even if you gave him your heart, he would shatter it to pieces over time when he, like other descendants of your Aleksander, reached old age. You were doomed to be lonely. But the fact that a person with eyes, a face, and a mind so like your husband was at your fingertips wasn't helpful to your already broken soul at all.

You just wanted to have your husband in your arms again. Was it so much for the saints to accomplish? You sobbed piteously until you fell asleep on the floor from exhaustion.

Little did you know that a few floors above you, someone was also mourning their dead significant other. And he also cursed fate for putting in his path a woman so similar to the one for whom he would give everything he held dear.

One thing was certain. The longer you stayed in the presence of the other, the more you lost your mind. But neither of you was ready to deprive yourself of the toxic pleasure of seeing the living face of your beloved, lost spouse.

~•♤♤♤•~

As planned, the next day you headed towards the border with Fjerdans. Neither you nor the general spoke to you most of the way, which Alina and Baghra noticed. Yes. Baghra went with you. The general was just as shocked as you, but surprisingly, he didn't argue with the woman about her unannounced presence.

The only thing you were afraid of during this trip was crossing the land where your village used to be. Aleksander's house and yours. It also didn't help that you were supposed to be there on the exact anniversary of his death - the creation of the fold.

You thought it would be easier for you to ride a horse through the only place where you were happy, but the wave of memories flooding you did not allow you to pass by indifferently.

"You'll never catch me!" you run away from him, laughing.

"If I catch you, the game will be over. But since you're insulting my capabilities…" you yelled as you ran away when Aleksander rushed to you.

You ran along the river, looking over your shoulder every now and then to make sure your boyfriend wasn't right behind you.

Suddenly, a cloud of shadows appeared in front of you, from which your Sasha came out and grabbed you by the waist. You thrashed in his embrace, causing you both to fall to the ground, laughing.

"Aleksander! You shouldn't use it in public!" you scolded him, punching him lightly in the chest.

"We are in the middle of the forest. There are only us and some animals."

"Still it is risky for you. Don't make me tell your mother about this."

"Could you please stop threatening me with my own mother?" he groaned, throwing you off him, to which you squealed indignantly. You stared with your daggers at the man lying before you with a mischievous smirk and an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Since I found out she likes me and trusts me more than you? No, it's too funny, my grumpy shadow-man." you laughed. You rolled your eyes as you watched his expression growl. You climbed on top of him and kissed the crease that had formed between his eyebrows from your comment. "I'm soooo sorry, Sasha. You know how much I love you, right? You're the most important person in my life, Aleksander Morozova."

"And you in mine, Y/N Y/L/N." he murmured, grabbing your cheek and pulling you into a sweet, slow kiss. You purred, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours - something you'll never get tired of. He pulled away from you far too quickly. He licked his lips, looking at you nervously. You raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "Y/N... can I ask you a question?"

"Right now? I thought you gonna kiss me a little longer, but if it's so important." he chuckled, shaking his head, as he leaned down to catch your lips in a kiss again.

"Happy, lapushka?"

"Not really, but I'll try to survive a few minutes without your lips on mine." he chuckled, but you knew from the features of his face and the gentle clasping of his shoulders that something was bothering him. You just hoped he wouldn't have to leave with his mother again... "What did you want to ask me?" Aleksander cleared his throat, taking your hands in his trembling.

"You know that I love you. I can't imagine how my life would have turned out if you hadn't put that dagger to my throat five years ago right here."

"I knew I recognized this place from somewhere." you cut him off, looking around the clearing. Aleksander laughed, catching your attention again as you blushed at how stupidly you interrupted him. But it seemed to help him relax, judging by the way his hand confidently reached out to cup your cheek.

"You make me laugh. Even on the darkest, worst of days. Just one look at those wonderfully beautiful eyes is enough to completely change my mood. One word from you and all my plans and beliefs fall into oblivion. You are the light in my darkness. The only good thing that happened to me. The only person who isn't afraid of what I can do. The only person who looks at me with such adoration despite my shadows."

"You know I love them. I love all of you, Sasha. Nothing will change that." you replied with tears in your eyes, suspecting what his confession would lead to.

"I know I have nothing worth you and that the life I can offer you is nothing compared to what you deserve, but you know me better than I know myself... I would go crazy if I wasn't the only man who has the privilege of seeing your face first thing every morning and falling asleep in the presence of your beauty. I'd go crazy if someone else could be called yours..." Aleksander took a simple gold ring with a small black gem from his pocket.

You gasped, knowing full well how much money he must have spent on even such a simple engagement ring. Baghra was supposed to skin your fiancé when she figured out what he wasted their money on.

"Sasha..." you whispered, crying, moving your gaze towards him.

"Y/N, kei onolich yash (will you marry me)? Will you be my wife?" too moved to answer him, you pulled him into a kiss. You both smiled like idiots. "I'm guessing it's yes then, but I'd rather hear it from you before I tell everyone else."

"Yes. Yes, I will marry you, you idiot. You didn't have to buy me a ring, Sasha. I would say yes without it."

"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't reject me." he replied with a mischievous smirk, putting it on your finger. You huffed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. The ring sparkled in the moonlight. Your face hurts from smiling. "I promise you, Y/N one day I'll give you the prettiest, flashiest ring in all of Ravka."

"And I will still prefer the one you gave me today." you replied without a second of hesitation, pulling your fiancé into another kiss.

The Kirgian ordered a stop, which everyone accepted with gratitude. And when others Grishas dispersed to their tasks, you decided to go to the place where your house and Aleksander's once stood.

Since you were already a stupid girl, as Baghra so nicely called you, this little trip shouldn't hurt you. You'd rather be stupid and crazy—completely mad from love—than ever forget about Aleksander and move on.

And that's how you got here. By the river, close to the place where you used to be the happiest in the world, and now you were shedding a sea of tears over the life you lost.

"I will build you a palace."

"What?" you asked, giggling as you looked away from the stars to your husband lying next to you on the grass.

Sensing the movement of your head, he turned around to look at you closely. You both loved nights like these. Your hands intertwined as you both lay on the ground looking at the stars and talking about your day, your plans, and your dreams. It was a sacred ritual between the two of you that you performed at least once a week.

"A palace. For you and our future children. A safe place where we can live with our little family."

"Sasha... I don't need a palace to feel safe with you. You are my shelter. My protector. What we have now is more than enough."

"That little hut where we barely fit in with our stuff, even though we don't have much anyway? NO. You deserve all the treasures of this world, Y/N" he murmured, stroking your cheek tenderly.

You sighed, pressing your cheek against his hand, enjoying every ounce of his attention. It's been getting more and more dangerous around here lately. You seldom had time to spend together; you were too busy with the Grisha needing your help. But you didn't mind. As long as Aleksander's eyes gave you that loving, adoring look at least once a day, you were ready to face anything to get back into his waiting arms.

"I already have one." he raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking at you in surprise. You just smiled, pulling him to you by the chin and connecting your lips in a kiss. Aleksander rolled over and hovered over you, not breaking your tender kiss. You placed your hands on his cheeks and gently pulled him away, looking into his eyes. No stars in the sky could match the brilliance of his dark irises. "You are my treasure. With you by my side I want nothing more. You're all I need to be happy, Sasha." you mumbled, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. Aleksander buried his face in your hands, closing his eyes for a moment and surrendering to this tender gesture.

"You deserve much more, milaya. And I promise, by all the saints and stars in the sky, I'll give you the world."

"Everything in time, Aleksander. Now, kiss your wife and show her how much you love her." you giggled as his long hair tickled your cheeks as he dutifully caught your lips in another sweet kiss.

"Was he really worth it?" Baghra's question cut through your sobs. You wiped your tears, not wanting to cry in front of her, and turned to face her. "Wouldn't you rather curse him for creating a fold and for leaving you than mourn the bastard that was my son? Y/N, child, you have eternity ahead of you. An eternity where you can be happy. Is Aleksander worth wasting it?" you laughed bitterly, knowing the answer to her question all too well. Nothing has changed over the centuries. And you knew nothing would change your feelings.

"You know very well that I will never know happiness again. Not without him. I've never done that in all these years."

"There had to be a moment. Even the smallest." she tried desperately to convince you. You dropped your head, remembering those few moments between you and Kirigan in Little Palace.

"There was. Next to a man who looked like him. But after a while, it dawned on me that he would never be Aleksander. Call me and think about me however you want. Pathetic child, crazy woman… But the truth is, I loved your son, Baghra, and I will always love only him. Our hearts were created by the saints as one and divided in two, placing one in Aleksander and the other in me. There is no one in the world I could love like him, with whom I could be truly happy. This type of love never dies, Baghra. Even separated by a grave."

"What if you got him back? If he was with you, but he wasn't the same man you remember?"

"It wouldn't matter. We are all changing. I know I would love him as much as I did then."

"I just hope you know what you want, child. And that maybe he'll go back to who he used to be because of you." she sighed, leaving you alone with your grief. You frowned, analysing her vague words.

It wasn't until it started to get dark that you got up from your knees and brushed the dirt off your clothes. You were about to leave when the crunch of branches caught your attention. A foolish hope rose in you and you lifted your head, only to meet your eyes with the Kirgian.

"General. I was just returning to camp." he nodded his head without a word.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned to take one last look at what used to be your home. You sighed tremblingly as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

And you whistled.

It was a fragment of an old Ravkan song about lovers returning home after a long journey to throw themselves into each other's arms, longing for separation. You and Aleksander adored it. And you decided that every time one of you left home, you would whistle that particular verse that stuck in your mind.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

A cool breeze caressed your hot (from crying) skin. But the goosebumps that formed on your arms weren't from the cold at all.

"In the apple orchard stands the maiden fair and sings, When will you come home?"

You froze. Incapable of anything but breathing. You misheard. It's just one of your stupid fantasies, your mind playing tricks on you, or another cruel dream about how you got back the man you loved. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be real.

But the man holding your arm in a tight grip and turning you around to face him felt very real. AND ALIVE.

"Sasha?" you whispered tearfully, shaking all over, and if it wasn't for his strong grip on both of your arms, you probably would have fallen to your knees in front of him long ago, unable to do anything other than stare hopefully at the man in front of you.

Aleksander's heart shuddered and threatened to burst as the pet name, unused for hundreds of years, reached his ears. In an instant, you were on his chest as he hugged you with all his might. With your ear to his heart, you listened to his beating, and for the first time in hundreds of years, you cried WITH HAPPY.

"It's me, milaya. My sweet Y/N, my moon, my heart, my wife. It's me."

You heard him through a haze, too intent on his eyes to understand anything more from his speech. It was him. Your Aleksander. All this time. He was saying something to you, but you completely ignored him as something gold around his neck shimmered in the moonlight. You pulled the chain from under his jacket, sighing as you saw his wedding ring hanging securely on his necklace. A sob of disbelief escaped you. It was really him.

His hand cupping your cheek caused your watery gaze to shift back to those dark, beloved eyes.

"No more tears, milaya. You do not have to worry. From now on, I will never leave your side again. Not for a single bloody second."

And that was enough for you.

Grabbing his hair, you pulled him closer to you to feel his lips on yours as soon as possible. It wasn't one of those soft, gentle, unhurried kisses that lovers share after they meet after some separation.

It was intense, desperate, and needy, expressing your deadly longing for each other's lips through those painful years without each other. You didn't have the strength to hold back, to pretend you didn't miss that exact feeling all those lonely nights.

It didn't matter that your tears mixed and you could taste their salty taste on each other's lips. It didn't matter that your lungs were burning for air. It didn't matter that you had already fallen to your knees, too shaken by the feeling of the other's lips, but both of you longed too much for this closeness between you to deprive yourself of the warmth of the other's body even for a millisecond. It didn't matter if your lips were too swollen to decently go back to camp and pretend nothing had happened between you two.

You sincerely doubted that you would be able to take even a step towards the camp. Not after you trembled in Aleksander's lap as his hands caressed every inch of your skin.

But the moment came when you had to pull away from each other, cursing the need for air. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent and clinging to his kefta to be as close to him as possible.

You both knew that there was no way you were going to be an arm's length away from each other. And you were seriously considering sticking with him permanently. His dark cloak looked big enough for you to hide under it too.

You couldn't believe your luck. He was here. With you. You had his arms around you again as you both clung desperately to each other.

Your Aleksander. Your husband. Your loved one. Your heart.

He had you again. His wife. His soulmate. His sanity. His equal. HIS EVERYTHING.

You wanted to pull away for a moment to look at his face again, but something tugged at your neck, bringing your head to Aleksander's shoulder. You looked down. Your necklaces are tangled.

"Seriously? It couldn't have happened a month ago?" you groaned as you tried to untangle your chains. You smiled, hearing how your husband laughed carelessly for the first time in centuries, since the day he lost you. "We'll never hear the end of it from Baghra, you know about it Sasha?" you asked, resting your forehead against his as you gave up on releasing the two of you. It didn't matter that everything was against you again. At least now you finally have Aleksander with you. YOUR real Aleksander.

"She had already called me a blind fool before she made me come here. I think we'll hear a lot from her about our stupidity." he murmured. You shivered as you felt his fingertips on your neck as he untied your intertwined necklaces effortlessly. He unclasped yours and, with great delicacy, placed the ring on your finger.

"Remind me to thank your mother for making you come here later." you replied, making sure his wedding ring was on his finger as well. Maybe you won't scare all the bitches away from him, but at least you'll make it clear that he belongs only to you. After hundreds of years without him, you have the right to be territorial.

"Later?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't think I'm going anywhere other than your tent and your bed right now, do you?"

"Our bed." he murmured before grabbing you in bridal style and heading for your tent. "By the way, I must commend you for how bravely you resisted the charms of someone who wasn't me. I barely managed to kiss you properly before you pushed me away."

"I don't know what I should do to you. Slap you for groping someone who had my face, or kiss you for only being attracted to my beauty."

"You have to admit, you didn't resist me much back then, my little saint." he murmured, kissing you again. He ran his hand through your hair, pulling you all the way onto him so he could feel your weight on him. You were with him. Body and soul. And it wasn't a dream. "Let's go to that tent before I have my way with you here and now." he muttered, getting up.

"Wait." you grabbed his hand. He turned to you, giving you a questioning look as he found you still kneeling on the grass. "Before we do anything. We both agree that we are not going to destroy the fold, right?"

Aleksander held his breath. He forgot how damn perfect you were. How you fit in and understood him in every way. And only the slight ounce of control he had left was keeping him from lunging at you right now as you kneeled in front of him with those beautiful, mesmerising eyes staring at him.

But after all, Aleksander was only human. A man whose cruel fate separated him from his beloved wife for many centuries…

He pulled you close to him in one swift motion. You crashed into his chest, completely unprepared for the sudden movement, but his intoxicating lips on yours compensated for your shock.

You moaned into his mouth as he pulled away from you so as not to lose his control completely.

"Saints, you have no idea how much I've missed you, my little moon."

"I'll take it as a yes." you replied, giggling as he put his arm around you. As you'd guessed, you fit perfectly with him under his cloak. You sighed, intoxicated by his scent.

"You know so well that I'll do anything for you. The fact that our plans coincide only proves that we belong to each other. And only to each other."

"Always, Sasha. I'm yours for eternity." you replied, smiling slightly as you turned to steal a glance at him.

"And I'm yours for the rest of our lives and beyond." he murmured, kissing your forehead.

You practically ran through the camp, ignoring Baghra's knowing, malicious look and the shocked expressions of Alina, Zoya, and Ivan (at which you giggled, causing Aleksander a small, tender smile) and Fedyor's smirk. You entered his tent, laughing as you started kissing while taking off each other's clothes.

"I hope you realize we don't leave this tent for at least a week?" he asked as he laid you down on the bed. However, the bastard didn't wait for your response, stealing a kiss from you.

"They'll be looking for you, Sasha." you mumbled between your kisses and grabbed his cheeks to make him focus on something other than your lips.

"What a pity I'll be too busy with my wife to notice anyone else but her." he lowered his head to your neck, making your hands tangle in his hair. You sighed, feeling his tongue on your skin just before he gently bit you.

"I thought we had a battle to win." he suddenly stopped all his movements. He intertwined your ringed hands and cupped your cheek with the other, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"My little moon, I'll postpone any goddamn war for you. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you and never will be." he promised, pressing his lips to yours.

You moaned, enjoying the long-forgotten feeling of his skin against yours as well as knowing that your love would never die.

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vidavalor · 8 months

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The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it

I rewatched 2.04/The Blitz, Part 2 last night and a moment stood out to me that made me think I have an idea of what might happen in the flashback we all seem to have collectively agreed is almost certainly in S3-- The Blitz, Part 3.

When Crowley & Aziraphale are in the magic shop and Glozier is there in the background, the camera jumps to a pretty significant reaction shot for Glozier when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he has a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop. I think everyone sees that bit as important-- it's a literal Chekhov's gun sitting out there for the future story, after all-- but I was thinking about why it matters that one of the Zombie Nazis overheard this when they're... ya know... zombies. Their methods of murder tend to be a little more direct, yeah? lol What do they need a gun for when they eat people to death? But then it hit me why it will matter that Glozier heard this... it's not about the Zombie Nazis, exactly. It's about Furfur.

When we leave Furfur in 1941, he's just been embarrassed in front of The Dark Council by Aziraphale, who has swapped out the picture of him and Crowley for a flyer for the Ladies of Camelot, right? They literally laugh in Furfur's face. Furfur's entire plot in 1941 is about how he's been stuck in processing for millennia and he's trying to get out of it-- about how he's jealous of Crowley and the few others who get to go to Earth. He's dealt slight after slight after slight during this night in 1941. He fails to get proof against Crowley, who doesn't even remember him. He gets shamed and embarrassed in front of the higher-ups and his peers. His fledging... whatever it is exactly lol... with Shax-- who is the closest thing he has to a friend-- is damaged as she's gone out on a limb for him and he hasn't delivered. Most terrible, he's sure he's never going to get out of his miserable eternity of grunt work. He's *very, very, very* unhappy and boxed into a corner, right? So what does Furfur want, now that he's stuck in Hell forever and all of it is laughing at him?

Revenge. He wants revenge.

In the short term, he also wants someone to scream at, so he goes back up to Earth and finds the Zombie Nazis, who are roaming around London eating people. They can't go very quickly so they haven't gotten far and aren't hard to find lol. Furfur knows it's not exactly their fault that he was tricked by the angel as, technically, they completed the tasks they were given, but he's furious and he needs to vent it, so he starts yelling that he's going to revoke their zombie-life-on-earth clauses. (Even *the Nazi zombies* get to be on Earth and Furfur does not? Yeah, he's not going to be able to handle that...)

The Zombie Nazis, understandably after seeing that video he showed them in Part 2, start freaking out because they don't want that whole fly fate for all of eternity and they don't know how to reach anyone beyond Furfur so they'll do anything to keep Furfur from taking out his humiliation on them. Upon hearing that this is all about how Aziraphale tricked Furfur and got him humiliated by Hell, the Zombie Nazis start desperately suggesting that it's not too late! They can help Furfur still get Crowley and Aziraphale! Even if Hell thinks Furfur is a joke and won't listen to him about the angel and demon being involved, they can still help Furfur get revenge!

They bring Furfur to outside the bookshop to find Crowley and Aziraphale because that's where the Zombie Nazis say they saw them together earlier & they know Aziraphale lives there. Furfur's in a rage because through a side window, he's observing Crowley and Aziraphale drinking wine together by candlelight in what is the "I know you'd come through for me" scene from Part 2-- and Aziraphale even has the photo Furfur took of them earlier in his hand. (Insert here more of the recurring gag about Harmony lip-reading as now he's also looking through the window and probably gets a line like "he is saying it again! 'banana fish go-RILL-ah...'").

So Furfur is in a fur-furious rage here and is ready to murder these two but... there's just one *slight* problem...

He's a demon.

He can't get into the bookshop.

Aziraphale would have to invite him in and he's certainly not going to after their meeting earlier. But! This is when Furfur and the Nazis realize that there is someone in their group who *can* get in the bookshop...

....our fave fascist, Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt.

As "Rose", Greta recruited Aziraphale-- entering his bookshop when she was a human, invited in by Aziraphale. She can still get into the bookshop. (It's also a parallel to Shax tricking Aziraphale into letting her into The Bentley in S2.)

Once Furfur and the Nazis realize this, the question then becomes: okay, so if Greta can get into the shop, how is she then going to kill Aziraphale and Crowley? (*Especially* Aziraphale, whom Furfur really, really, really loathes at this point lol.)

This is when we go back to the scene that triggered this meta, which is that this is when Glozier then volunteers the information he overheard in the magic shop-- that there's a Chekhov's gun in the bookshop.

The Derringer works as a weapon here to do that because, as Furfur himself pointed out during the magic show earlier, if Crowley had shot Aziraphale in the face, it wouldn't just be paperwork but it might not be possible for them to "put him back together again"-- indicating that there are some things that can happen to angels and demons that are irreversible and can effectively kill them, more or less-- and a gunshot to the head is one of them.

(I'm also realizing as I'm writing this that that Glozier's *ear* falling off in the magic shop is another nod to him having *heard* important information and so far, we've only seen half of what he heard pay off-- the time and location of Aziraphale's performance in the West End. We're still awaiting pay off of the gun bit.)

My bet is that Aziraphale's Derringer in a hollowed out book is something he actually *showed "Rose" like the cinnamon roll idiot that he is* lol... so once Glozier brings it up, Greta remembers and she knows what book it's in and exactly where it is in the shop.

So Furfur still cannot get in but Greta can get in... which means Greta is now the most powerful character here. If Furfur wants Aziraphale dead, Greta can make that happen... *if* they cut a deal. What kind of deal? Well, the only thing Greta is going to want that she thinks that Furfur could give her is to not be a zombie, right? To be alive again? Reverse the clause in the paperwork and give her her life back. Whether or not Furfur can actually do this (and I'm not sure if he can or not, really, but I'd wager probably not), Furfur tells Greta that he can and she and the other Nazis believe him.

The plan is that the four of them go to the bookshop, where Furfur activates a miracle blocker card for a few hours surrounding the shop in an effort to limit Crowley and Aziraphale's powers and give the Zombie Nazis the advantage. Once the miracle blocker is in place, Greta goes inside while Harmony and Glozier make noise outside, in an effort to separate Crowley and Aziraphale to make it easier to kill them by attempting to lure one of them outside. Greta is to kill the one that stays inside the bookshop while Harmony and Glozier are supposed to kill the one that goes outside. (This will not happen according to plan at all, whatsoever, but it does seem like the most likely plan these four characters could form where they all have a role in it.)

So because Greta is the only one who can get inside, she has go to into the bookshop and be the one who can kill, most likely in their mind, Aziraphale. She'll still be a staggering zombie when the extremely bright Furfur sends her in there to obtain and fire a gun at a pair of supernatural beings lol but she manages to sneak in the back door without Crowley and Aziraphale really hearing the breaking & entering... or whatever noises the other two are making outside... as Crowley and Aziraphale are a little busy gazing at one another.

It would actually be a really funny, very Good Omens-y gag IMHO, if Greta is colossally unsubtle in entering the other side of the shop from where Crowley & Aziraphale are and is banging into stuff while Harmony and Glozier keep coming up with more and more insane noises outside... but Crowley and Aziraphale are too busy making heart eyes at one another to care or do anything about it. A very "did you... hear that?"/"oh, must be the war, let's go back to gazing" type of attitude with a steadily increasing series of sounds that are harder and harder to dismiss but they are trying, ok? lol. (This would also parallel Aziraphale ignoring the demons outside for as long as he could during The Ball in S2, until the bookshop begins literally breaking around them.)

So while we watch scenes of Furfur and The Zombie Nazis Hatch A Plot, the relationship tension between Crowley & Aziraphale is building as much as the plot tension. They intercut Furfur & the Nazis scenes with Crowley & Aziraphale having quiet, romantic, candlelit glasses of wine after their very intense and illuminating evening together. Each time we go back to Crowley & Aziraphale... they seem to be getting increasingly cozier. They sit a little closer, they get a little looser around one another. Crowley's glasses might come off. We get the sense that this is all Going Somewhere and it's somewhere they've never let themselves go before but after the events of Blitz 1 & 2 tonight? It's becoming increasingly clear to them that they will. There's virtual certainty that if *nothing else happens* to these two tonight and they're just left alone for once, they're at least going to kiss and what we're watching is them slowly enjoying the path there and them enjoying silently knowing that they're going to.

At some point, we hop from the Nazis back over to Aziraphale asking Crowley if he'd like a little music... Aziraphale might even have something *modern* kicking around, he's excited to tell Crowley (like he might have been totally not at all fantasizing about this exact Crowley-dashing-in-his-suit-with-a-glass-of-wine-smoldering-in-the-bookshop scenario when he bought this record from Maggie's grandfather recently lol)... and he goes over to the gramophone to put it on and now we've got Crowley and Aziraphale with candlelight and wine and music and they're each just taking step after slow little step that slowly acknowledges the romance at play here. Aziraphale's record is probably Glenn Miller. We know he likes big band and The Bentley played him "Moonlight Serenade" in S2 and Glenn Miller also recorded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", so it's one record where "Moonlight" could play and then, eventually, so too could "Nightingale" without Aziraphale getting up and moving away from Crowley... and you better believe that when we get to "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" playing that Crowley and Aziraphale are a literal breath away from kissing.

It'd be completely perfect to them, right? Very romantic. They're there together, alone, they've survived the Nazis and Mrs. H and threats of Hell and have spent the night gazing at one another and now they're here and it's quiet and there's candlelight and it's the familiar, comforting bookshop that is home for both of them... the same place, ironically, that they will drink wine together and make eyes at one another *for decades* after this night-- without Aziraphale putting on The Song, of course-- and you know they will think about 1941 every. single. time. while never actually recreating it.

(It's also why, when they're both wasted in the bookshop in S1's "Eleven Years Ago", Crowley is rambling on about bananas and gorillas and bouillabaisse/fish stew-- ya know, "banana fish gorilla..."-- and they're both so drunk and thinking about how they're almost out of time... and so they're both thinking of 1941 and wind up making those hilarious kissy faces at one another because they both obviously still want to actually kiss some 80 years after the night they almost did. Crowley also calls Aziraphale "baby" in the middle of his ramble. He might have called Aziraphale that in 1941, when they weren't drunk and were on their way to kissing. He also might have just wanted to, so it turned up in "Eleven Years Later" and might come up again later on in the present of S3, whenever they inevitably get to finally have a decent, uninterrupted, not painful kiss.)

Back in 1941, as we flip between Furfur/The Nazis and our heroes, maybe Crowley's even gotten comfortable enough to lose the glasses (though he can leave them on if he still has the hat on when they go to kiss so that he can take the hat off like a gentleman to kiss Aziraphale *swoon* and actually that's how Aziraphale died everyone surprise twist he's been dead since 1941 an a ghost this whole time lol)... and there's romantic big band on the record player and there was magic in the air and angels were dining at the Ritz when a nightingale sang in Bahhhrrrrk. Leeeeee. Square... and they're *almost* there, right? They're basically kissing. There is no way for either of them to ever legitimately pretend that was not was going to happen (even if they will try in the future lol) as their lips were a millimeter away and both of them want it and just like this and it's been six thousand years of pining and so, of course, that is when...

...Greta zombie-crashes into the room with Aziraphale's once-hidden Derringer aimed at them.

(Aziraphale's probably furiously muttering "oh good Lord" under his breath with a very different tone than in 1793 lol. That is his attitude, at least, if not the dialogue.)

So then they have to try to protect one another right and it's mild chaos for a moment as like Crowley starts looking out the window at Furfur and the rest of the Zombie Nazi Trio (paralleling his demons-outside-the-bookshop paranoia in S2) and realizes they were the noise while Greta is all "pity you both must die" again with a little smirk and Aziraphale is trying to calm her down and reason with her while also subtly trying to get close enough to get the gun and she probably fires but she's a zombie so she misses lol and he's like glancing over for Crowley and Crowley seems to disappear for a moment while Aziraphale stalls Greta and just when we think where the hell did Crowley go?! Aziraphale is about to be shot in the face!...

...Greta is shot in the face instead.

By Crowley.

With The Bullet Catcher.

And the bullet that was in Aziraphale's teeth a couple of hours ago.

Crowley has not so much has blown the fluff off a dandelion since he arrived on Earth six thousand years ago but you interrupt his first kiss with the angel and you. are. dead, you Nazi bitch...

I don't have a theory as to what happens after this beyond that we already know that Furfur is in Requisitions in the present now so he's going places lol. Also worth mentioning that Crowley or Aziraphale (I'd lean towards Crowley) could get shot by Greta's wild aim when they are trying to protect one another but it would be more of a graze that one could write a hundred h/c fics over than anything worth actually worrying about lol. It could be something like Crowley gets nicked but goes down as dramatically as he does in the paintball scene in S1 and Aziraphale is horrified but also fighting for his own life so he winds up focused on Greta and neither of them see Crowley slip away to come back with The Bullet Catcher... something like that. I'm just pretty sure that the fact that there are really *two* Chekhov's guns in the bookshop and that Greta is the only 1941 antagonist who can get inside it maths out to Crowley-- shooting her with The Bullet Catcher.

I'm not sure what happens to Harmony and Glozier. Aziraphale says in S1 that he's never killed anything so he can't kill anyone here and while I'm fine with Crowley mowing down Nazis with every Chekhov's gun left in the plot lol, I don't know that that's what happened or if, honestly, the two of them and Furfur just see Greta die through the window and run off. Maybe Aziraphale miracles the Nazis to Siberia. Who knows. But the main gist of it, I think, is that Crowley kills Greta when the Zombie Nazis and Furfur try to exact revenge on Crowley & Aziraphale and, in doing so, interrupt what would have been their first kiss and it's while "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is on in the background so that every time the song comes up in the future, it's a reference to this near-kiss in 1941, adding layers to scenes from Soho 1967 to the end of S1 to the end of S2, etc...

Kind of makes Crowley desperately kissing Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop while a vengeful Heaven, this time, is trying to separate them, even more aldkjlkfjlewje, yeah?

I'd also like to just throw in here that it's actually possible that all of this is the same but they *did* kiss... that they were kissing when Greta burst in. Part of me really wants that to be the case. That maybe they did get to have this kiss, if only because even if only a tenth of what I've said above is anywhere close to right, it's still pretty romantic and it would be nice if they got to have that, especially then, even if it was ultimately interrupted. It's Soho 1967, though, that convinced me that they came *very* close but ultimately didn't (and honestly, the only way they don't in 1941 if they get that close is if they're interrupted and an armed Zombie Nazi crashing through the bookshop feels about right lol.) It's this bit from Aziraphale to me that says they almost kissed but didn't:

The picnic was likely Crowley's 1827 date in Edinburgh. The Gabriel statue was there for amusement but you know Crowley had a picnic set up nearby. (It's not that weird-- people used to picnic in graveyards in the 1800s & the only time Crowley & Aziraphale would be able to together would be under the cover of darkness.) Then, they ran into Elspeth and the night took a turn. (Elspeth was also digging up bodies from graves, which is a parallel to zombies, hooking 1827 to 1941.) Dining at the Ritz-- literally going to The Ritz and eating together, which they do twice in S1-- is something Aziraphale would literally like to go do as a date as but it's also code in the 1967 scene for "perhaps, one day, we could finish 1941." He's telling Crowley in 1967 that he would still very much like to kiss him one day.

The near-kiss in 1941 would then also be what gives Aziraphale the motivation to eventually give Crowley the holy water in 1967. Back in 1863, Aziraphale didn't totally see that Crowley wanted holy water to protect them. By 1941, when they're staring at the corpse of a once-Zombie Nazi on the floor of the bookshop that Crowley just killed with the gun that's in his hands, it's a different sort of proof. 1941 becomes the era of 'here is proof that Crowley will literally kill to protect Aziraphale' and maybe it freaks Aziraphale out a little (as well as also turning him on a lot lol). Maybe that's why they spend the next years after that until the '60s together but not really together. Maybe that's why they don't have another chance at the kiss after 1941-- why they don't just try again-- because Aziraphale slows down a bit after it, afraid that Crowley could get hurt and that this is too dangerous, but he also understands now that Crowley is in love with him and when he hears in 1967 that Crowley is going after Holy Water, Aziraphale just gives him some, as a way of saying that he knows they're in love but this is impossible and they need to not pursue this in a way that will get them killed because he can't lose him.

A near-kiss in 1941 adds layers to 1967 Soho by adding an additional meaning of 'physical intimacy' to "dining at the Ritz". It adds even more weight to the end of S2 and the kiss and the "no nightingales" through to the Tori Amos angsty cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in The Bentley. There are other scenes (the end of S1 and others) that it touches as well, if indirectly, but maybe my favorite is this scene, which has already been given extra layers of meaning since The Blitz, Part 2 and The Bullet Catcher plot but lol now add in the idea that the rest of the story is that Crowley and Aziraphale were going to kiss and they were interrupted in the moment, shot at with at least one of them probably getting nicked, and then Crowley killed someone with The Bullet Catcher and tell me it doesn't make this already amazing sequence even more amazing:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens theory #good omens 1941 #good omens meta #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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seonghrtz · 11 days

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memory #4 spin-off ★ gojo waking you up the next day.

When Gojo woke up the next morning, he was immediately startled by the figure of Megumi and Tsumiki standing in front of him. He sat down on the sofa and stretched out, surprised that his sofa wasn't that bad to sleep on.

"What is it?" Gojo asked the children, still sleepy and yawning.

"Um, it's nine in the morning..." Tsumiki played with the hem of her pajama top.

"Ah, breakfast!" Gojo scratched his head, messing up his white hair even more.

"Well, we already had breakfast!" Tsumiki said.

"What?" Gojo looked at the girl and then at Megumi, who was standing next to her.

"Kamo-san always gets up very early and usually makes breakfast in the morning, but this time she didn't wake up. We thought she was pretty tired since she hardly ever gets a proper rest from work, so we took the opportunity to make breakfast. But we don't want to wake her up, but if we don't, the coffee will get cold.”

"Oh, all right, I'll wake her up for you. I'm sure she'll appreciate your kindness." Gojo smiled and got up from the sofa, heading for his room.

Slowly, he opened the door to find himself in darkness. Gojo had bought some thicker curtains to put up in his room to block out the light, and maybe that was why you were still asleep ⸻ inside the room, it still seemed to be night.

He walked over to where you were and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep peacefully. That moment was the most relaxed he had ever seen you. Gojo had never imagined seeing you in his own clothes, lying on his bed, your hair messy, and your serene face. Gojo didn't know he needed to see you like this, so domestic, so calm, until he saw you like this. It hurt him to have to wake you up and end all that peace and quiet, but Tsumiki and Megumi had gone to great lengths to prepare breakfast especially for you.

He sighed and shook his head to the side, trying to clear his thoughts and concentrate on waking you. But just as he put his warm hand on your cold arm, he felt something hard against his cheek.

"Fuck!" He muttered, feeling a pain in his cheek.

"Gojo?!" You sat up in the bed, startled, and looked at the boy holding his own cheek with a pained expression, "I'm sorry!"

"You... you hit me?" Gojo looked at you in disbelief as he felt the side of his face hurt.

You, Kamo Y/n, had just punched the strongest sorcerer of your generation, Gojo Satoru. And it was all unintentional.

"I'm sorry!" You said worriedly, you didn't mean to hit Gojo, "I woke up and saw two blue balls and a white figure, and I thought it was a curse.” You mumbled, realizing that what you had seen were actually the blue eyes and white hair of the boy in front of you.

"It would have been better if it really was a curse... You're a heavy hand, aren't you?"

"And your limitless, shouldn't you have it on?"

"Why should I have my limitless on at nine o'clock on a Saturday?" Gojo lay down on the bed and crossed his legs, almost in a fetal position.

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"It's okay, I guess I deserved that punch a little."

"Yeah, maybe you deserved it..." a slight smile broke out on your face, causing Gojo's cheeks to flush and blend in with the redness of the new wound.

If one punch was the price for the angelic sight of you, sitting in a sea of white blankets, wearing his shirt with messy hair and a slight smile on your face, then Gojo Satoru would take as many punches as necessary until he had that sight etched eternally in his memory.

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lawshambless · 14 days

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Jealous || Zoro x Reader

Helloo!! Haven’t written a fanfic in such a long time but I’m currently on a one piece binge and Zoro has me in my feels eep

I really want to get back into writing so if you have any requests please send them through!!

warnings: nothing really, a tad bit of jealously from zoro

word count: 1.3k

Zoro knew that he had absolutely nothing to worry about. You were his and he was yours.

He wasn’t oblivious to the way you looked at him, everyone could see it - you gazed at him like he was the one who hung up the damn moon, eyes twinkling with soft smiles and blushes. There was never anything but pure adoration lacing your expression.

Zoro was no different - he couldn’t fight his lovestruck grin or the way his cheeks flushed whenever you were close. He would stare at you longingly even when you were just across the room.

It was clear to anyone - you were both stupidly, beautifully in love.

But right now, as Zoro silently stewed watching you chat with some random guy from another crew, oblivious to the way they kept eyeing you, Zoro could not control the jealously that was gnawing at his insides. He couldn’t suppress his scowl as you carelessly laughed and joked with another man, a bitter taste settling on his tongue.

Usually at gatherings like these, Zoro made sure he was near you. If he couldn’t be pressed against your side, he would be touching you in some other way; a leg wrapped around yours, an arm lazily slung across the back of your chair, his fingers gently playing with your hair, or a finger hooked around one of your own. The man was hopelessly lovesick and needed to have you close.

But tonight, you had been pulled away to the opposite end of the room and Zoro was forced to watch you from afar. He was visibly growing impatient, his scowl deepening by the minute as he waited for an opportunity to slide himself right next to you, where he belonged.

In the past, Zoro would have rudely interrupted the conversation, grabbing your wrist to whisk you away. But now, he was a changed man - he knew he had to suppress his caveman tendencies and wait until your conversation reached a natural lull. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with him not wanting to be on the receiving end of your scolding. Definitely not.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Zoro’s moment finally arrived. The guy noticed your drink was empty and quickly offered to get you a refill. You politely agreed and thanked him, bidding him farewell momentarily.

You knew Zoro had been watching the two of you and you found his impatience incredibly amusing. So when you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and his fingers subtly slip under your shirt to graze against your skin, you couldn’t suppress your giggles. You subconsciously leant against Zoro’s chest, feeling your eyes slip close as your very clingy boyfriend buried his nose in the crook of your neck. He left small kisses on your shoulder, finding solace in finally being close to you. You laughed lightly when Zoro's body heaved against you as gently sighed into your skin and you couldn't resist pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his head. God, you just adored him.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long.” You teased, bringing a hand up to card through his soft hair, your fingers gently raking against his scalp. Zoro groaned, playfully nudging your head with his own.

“Shut up.” He muttered pathetically, tightening his grip around your waist. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he just couldn’t help it - he was a selfish man when it came to you.

“You’re so cute when you’re all jealous and brooding.”

“M’not jealous.” Zoro playfully nipped at your shoulder, grinning against your skin when you let out a shriek. Beaming widely, you turned in Zoro’s hold, looping your arms around his neck. Your stomach clenched and you bit down on your lower lip as Zoro slowly slid his hands up the outside of your thighs to rest on your hips, stepping between your legs to bring you impossibly closer. You loved the way he was looking at you right now - like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Whatever you say.” You sung out, unable to suppress the goofy smile on your face as you looked up at your adorable, dumb, jealous boyfriend. Zoro groaned, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back dramatically feigning annoyance, but you caught the glint in his eye.

“M’kay fine. I was.” Before you could grin smugly at him and begin your teasing, Zoro splayed his fingers across your back and pulled your chests flush together, pressing his forehead against your own. “Not my fault you’re just too damn irresistible."

You blushed profusely as Zoro captured your lips in a kiss. He nipped on your bottom lip, smirking when you groaned, your body all but melting in his embrace. Zoro’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb gently tracing the column of neck as your lips moved lazily in sync. You tangled your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck, loving the way you felt his lips tug into a grin.

“Too. Damn. Irresistible.” he repeated lowly, a smirk on his face as he captured your lips in kiss after kiss. Zoro kissed you again and again, enthralled by the way you completely surrendered to him; you were putty in his fingertips.

“Come sit with me?” Zoro requested quietly as he gently kissed your cheek. Pulling back, you looked at him pointedly, raising your eyebrows.

“Zoro, I was talking with that guy, I don’t want to be rude-”

“Please?” He interrupted you. His voice was gentle and pleading, but it was the look on his face that made you cave. So vulnerable and open to your love, completely different from the stoic man you met a year ago.

“Alright, you buffoon.” You grumbled, feigning exasperation but inside you were melting. Especially when he shot you a boyish grin and grabbed your hand eagerly to intertwine your fingers. You inwardly swooned as he led you to a couch tucked away in the corner of the room, beaming at you over his shoulder.

Zoro sat first before pulling you close to his side, tucking you under his arm and lifting your legs to drape across his thigh. Sighing contently, you leant your head against Zoro's shoulder transfixed on the way his fingers delicately traced up and down your spine, lulling you into a perfect state of tranquility despite the chaos ensuing around you.

“Much better.” Zoro triumphantly grinned at you, smacking an obnoxious kiss to your forehead. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

“You’re so annoying. You’re lucky I love you.” Zoro could see the adoration in your eyes as you stared up at him; the pink blush that dusted your cheeks and the gentle smile that was reserved for him and only him on your lips was a dead giveaway. You leaned up and gently kissed him again, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling away. Despite your joking tone, Zoro felt his heart thump painfully in his chest at your words.

“I know you do.” Zoro tried to act cocky, smirking smugly down at you but you were used to his antics by now. Rolling your eyes you kissed him once more, running your hands up his firm chest to rest on his shoulders. Pulling away you jutted out your bottom lip playfully and looked up at him with pleading eyes and Zoro couldn’t resist. He brushed his thumb across your pink cheeks and lightly traced your bottom lip.

The guy you were once talking to and his own jealously was a distant memory right now - all Zoro wanted to remember was the way you were looking at him, right now in his arms where you belonged.

“Love you so much darlin'.” He finally whispered, looking down at you with so much love you felt as though you were going to implode.

“I know you do.” You retorted cheekily. Cocking an eyebrow, Zoro hastily began digging his fingers into your hips relishing in your playful shrieks of laughter.

He was yours and you were his.

#zoro fluff #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro one shot #zoro roronoa x y/n #zoro x y/n #one piece oneshots #zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro fluff

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juvenillia · 6 months

Text

~ under my skin ~ John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader [fluff/smut oneshot]

Summary: Johnny never wanted any more tattoos. Memories and people were more important to him than a little sketch on his skin. He didn't need those to be reminded of what he hold dear, because he kept all that in his heart. This opinion somehow changed when he met you and suddenly he found himself with five fresh tattoos that meant the world to him. Because these five tattoos reminded him of something he wanted to stay for eternity. The ink holding a meaning deeper than the bare eye could ever see.

a/n: this one was supposed to be a sweet short oneshot about Johnny falling for his tattoo artist but somehow it escalated very quickly and it could've been even longer but I stopped right there (for now)

tw/cw: tattooartist!reader, needles (ofc), tooth rotting fluff, smut, suggestive content, petnames, mentions of a past toxic relationship, flirting, mentions of angst, violence (but only the slightest, this is pure fluff), bestfriend!simon, comfort, love at first sight, pinning

wordcount: 10.4k [upps]

》 Read on AO3 《》 Masterpost 《

„C’mon Lt. Tell me,” Johnny bragged him for the millionth time today. They just arrived back at base after a draining operation, but as soon as Soap could turn his work brain off, he only had one thought on his mind. For three weeks there was one thing circling his thoughts and he had to pay a lot of effort to shove this one aside during the mission. Therefor he had no intentions in holding back anymore now. Three weeks ago, that was the actual day his world took a sudden turn.

Simon and he had to go undercover through London. Following a trace of a Russian insider who would lead them to their actual target. Nothing unusual. Something the 141 was used to it. Also, it wasn’t that uncommon that their trace led them to a well crowded area, where they needed to observe and find the target person. Usually, it would’ve been Gaz and Price going undercover, or some more rarely even Soap and Gaz, because they were simply the most unobtrusive, but this place literally screamed for Simon and Johnny to go. It was a tattoo convention. A place where numerous of eager artist presented their skills and works. A place where you found the most eccentrical looks. No one would bat an eye about the behemoth of a man Simon was, plus he already had numerous of tattoos covering his body. While Johnny on the other hand seemed to be just the guy looking for some new ones, next to his quite discreet one. They just blended in perfectly in between the many kinds of humans strolling through these halls.

That way they walked through the halls, keeping their eyes open to find their target. Price and Gaz stayed in touch with them over the comms, observing everything from afar, watching their six for just in case. They looked through all the booths, looked at every artist they could find. They didn’t know much about their actual target, only that he frequented a specific tattoo artist with a unique style. “Find the artist, find the man,” Laswell’s words echoed through Johnny’s head as he scanned through a portfolio of the booth he just stopped by. The works looked all perfectly made, with an amazing eye to details and such fine lines. Some medals and trophies placed next to their winning projects decorating the desk. If he ever would get another tattoo, he’d be sure to find an artist with that level of skill. Still, he really wasn’t into getting another one. Never found something with enough meaning to stay with him forever. In his job most of things were just temporally and those who weren’t, those were kept in his heart. No need to ink them into his skin. He absently browsed through the pictures of various body parts decorated with stunning grey and black artworks. His mind keeping track on the conversation Price and Ghost just shared when Johnny’s eyes just locked onto a picture of a back piece with which he was somehow familiar with.

“Something caught your interest?” a soft female voice dragged him out of his haze, but Soap only shook his head no. Closing the booklet in front of him as his eyes wandered slowly upwards to be met with a pair of bright eyes. Some of the prettiest he had ever seen sparkled into his own. Usually, he’d bring out a cheeky comment, a bold smile on his lips. But as his clear azure eyes stared into yours, no words left his throat. He was frozen in place, completely smitten. You gifted him one of your sweetest smiles, which just grew wider when you noticed another man behind the speechless Scot. “Simon!” you cried out, eagerly rounding the desk to give the man a quick hug, which he returned, somehow a bit tense. Johnny only blinked in disbelief at the two of you.

“Hey…” Simon gave your shoulder a quick pat before his eyes met Johnny’s. A warning hidden in his glare, something the Scot haven’t seen so often aimed at himself. Mostly at enemies while interrogation, but nearly never at himself. It made him swallow, before he calmed himself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for a replacement,” you teased while taking his beefy arm into your hand. Inspecting his tattoo sleeve, or better said your work from a few weeks ago. Letting your delicate fingers follow the black lines down to his wrist. Perfectly healed before he had to leave for deployment again. You always made sure he came as early as possible so that your art wouldn’t get destroyed.

“Why should I leave ‘e best?” he nudged you with his elbow, only the slightest, before you let go of his wrist. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes pinned at your figure. Softer than Johnny was used to it.

“Well, won’t argue with that.” You laughed, while pushing your hands into your hips. You wore a simple pair of black cargo pants. Pockets stuffed full of necessities for the day. Your phone, your vape, some little snacks, some business cards, a pocket mirror and your favorite lipstick, a small ring light for your phone, and stuff you could need at a convention. Headphones loosely hanging around your neck connected to your phone, and the crew tag hanging loose from your belt around your hips, where your shirt was neatly tugged into your pants. The simple shirt revealing your own tattoos on your arms. “Besides…” your voice got that teasing, nearly mocking tone again. “I’d kick your ass for cheating on me.” You punched his upper arm playfully. Knowing that you could never even cause him pain. That’s why he was one of your favorite customers, you could just pull through an eight-hour session without him growing tired or whiney. He would just sit it out, listening to your tea, sharing a quick smoke in between.

“’m sure ya do, sweetheart.” He smiled softly beneath the casual black mask. He just got dragged out of this private comfort as Johnny cleared his throat a bit too dramatic for Simon’s liking. “That’s John by the way.” A sigh left his throat as he pointed at his teammate who eagerly stepped forward to you.

“Friends call me Johnny though.” His smile reached his eyes as he reached his hand out to you and you took it, shaking it with a smile. Eventually his thumb brushed over your knuckles during the process.

“Pleasure to meet you. Heard already a lot,” you cooed, squeezing your eyes shut while crossing your arms in front of your chest. Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, thinking about the things his Lieutenant could’ve told you already. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing he thought. Just then you told him your name before he repeated it quietly. Letting its sound roll over his tongue, the same smile from earlier on his lips.

“Would love to chat with ya more, y’know, but...” Simon interrupted the scenery in front of him. His glance searching for the blue ones of his teammate, sending him a knowing glance. “work…,” he said in his usual stern manner but still calm. You only nodded your head.

“And I thought you would drop by to say hi. I’m violated, Riley.” You faked a shocked face before a chuckle left your throat. Simon’s glance softened at your statement. “My work’s also waiting.” You pointed to a guy with a naked upper body half and half-finished chest piece. “Some awards to bring home you know.” You smiled smug patting your flat palm against his chest. Simon only nodded; his brows relaxed.

Johnny couldn’t suppress his bright smile the whole time, his eyes watching every move you made. It amazed him how much at ease you were with Ghost, because Soap knew it took a lot for him to be comfortable around people. Especially civilians. But Johnny couldn’t blame him, you already got him hooked as well. That’s when something clicked in his head. “Wait a sec.” He pulled a picture out of his jacket. Simon tensed, as the Scot moved to show you said image. “Yer recognizing that style?” his voice was serious but somehow, he couldn’t suppress the adoration beneath it.

“Johnny…” Simon instantly had a scolding tone lingering in his voice. He knew from the beginning that he could’ve asked you about that specific artist. He knew you were quite known in the scene, having contacts everywhere, but he didn’t want you to get involved in all that his life was. Yes, he told you a few things about it. Especially when getting his own dog tags inked under his skin. You knew about some things he didn’t like to talk about. Especially when you decided to grab some dinner after a session, and he grew more comfortable around you. And with that he grew to become one of your closest friends. You knew many things about the ghost he was. You knew that his job was bone crushing and bloody. Still, he didn’t want you to get corrupted by it.

You ignored Simon and took the picture out of the Scot hands. Your eyes lingering on his forearm for a while - you called it occupational disease – before you investigated the work in the picture. It was nothing special for the unknown eye, but you saw anything that wasn’t traditional made. You saw every line that had a personal note in it. “Check out Mad Hatters studio, Misha I suppose. Could also be Sasha, he did learn from Misha though,” you stated while still looking at the picture.

“Thanks, bonnie.” Johnny’s tongue was faster than his mind as he once more caught himself starring at you. You looked at him, your face relaxed again. Your features were like a flame, warming him up from the inside as himself became a moth pulled to it all the way.

“Don’t even wanna know what you need from them. Good luck,” you said looking at Simon, who’s brows were ached in concern. You then turned back to Johnny. Your eyes once more clinging to the small piece on his arm. “I could do better.” You winked at him, the smug grin playing on your lips as you gave the picture back to the Scot. It caused Johnny to really start considering getting another one. He was that impulsive, and if there wasn’t that dumb job to get done, he would immediately jump onto your chair. Just to see how you would do it, just to see you more, feeling your delicate fingers running over his skin. Simon watched the scenery with an unsettled rumble in his stomach, as you walked back behind your booth and pulled some black rubber gloves out of the box. Smiling once more at the men in front of you and with a little wave you turned around to get to your model.

“Boys… focus,” Price cleared his throat and scolded them after watching the whole situation a bit longer than he should have in the first place. But still you gave them the needed evidence. You led them to the person they needed. So, the operation could process any further until they found their actual target three weeks later.

All those incidents leading us back to the day when Johnny didn’t stop to ask his Lieutenant about his tattoo artist. “Why’d ya want to know anyways?” Simon’s Manchester accent was thick as he rolled his eyes. He already knew why the Scot wanted to know. Simon knew that his teammate didn’t want any more tattoos. They had plenty of talks about it. Always when he came with a new one back from leave, Soap told him ‘not up to that Lt’. And suddenly he wanted to know your name and the studio you worked in, or better said own.

“I really want to get that one tattoo…alright. Made up ma mind.” Johnny’s nearly whiney voice pulled at the little strings that made his bag of nerves up. Simon was a patient man, especially when it came to his team. Still, he didn’t want to get you involved with more of his life. Knowing that Johnny would tell you so many stories that wouldn’t be meant for your ears. Knowing you too well, fearing that this could become more. “C’mon Lt. Please. Dinnea let me down!” Simon only rolled his eyes at him and wrote an address down. You could see his hesitation in his handwriting, but Johnny would find out this way or another.

And a few days later Johnny found himself in London, in front of a cozy looking studio. Warm lights inviting him in. A bell jingled sweet as he pushed through the door. The place lovely decorated with plants, fairy lights and some candles. Framed pictures of stunning works along the wall as he walked up to the counter. “One moment.” A familiar voice clung from the back to his ear and made him instantly smile. It was ridiculous how your voice was already imprinted in his brain from such a small encounter. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you, Johnny?” you cooed smiling at him. Relaxing your arms on the counter and your body weight on it.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” his voice was calm as he leaned against the counter, closer to where you placed yourself. “Gonna show me how ye can do better, bonnie.” The smug grin facing your figure. The first time you caught him off guard. This time he prepared himself.

You exhaled sharp, followed by a chuckle. “That’s not how it works, darling.” You reached to your side and pulled a book in front of him. “I have a tightly filled schedule. Didn’t Si told you how I work?” You raised a brow at him. Johnny only shook his head no, while the smile started to falter. Seeing the gloss in his eyes slowly fading made your stomach turn. Why did he affect you so much? “Damn idiot…” you pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened the book and went through the appointments of the next days. “How big you’re planning?” Your eyes scanning through the upcoming projects.

His eyes instantly lighting up again. He was like a puppy that just got told they were going to the park. It was adorable. “Well, as big as it need to be. But upper arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his perfect toned arm and presented the area he thought of as placement. A veiny hand circling around the spot. Your eyes were pinned onto the flexing muscles as you felt a certain warmth creeping up your stomach. It’s not like you didn’t saw well shaped men rarely, but something about John MacTavish was different to say the least.

“Alright.” You slid your phone over. “Put your number in. I’ll see if I can fit you in the next days.” He eagerly took the phone and put his number in. Before you could say something or even snatch it back, he even dialed it to give himself yours. It made you chuckle as you took your phone back. You looked at the contact, there was only ‘johnny’ written with his number of course. “Lastname?”

“Already wanna take it, lass? I like straightforward.” There was that coquettish smile back on his face. His azure eyes staring into yours. “MacTavish, would suit ye though.” He slowly licked over his lips, as his eyes didn’t dare to avert from yours.

“You’d wish.” You typed his last name in. “Johnny is just a really common name, and you don’t want me to call the wrong one. Don’t you?” you teased, still a slight blush on your face. He shook his head no, while straighten himself up.

“Aye, would be a shame.” He placed his hand quickly onto yours which laid on the counter. Giving it a quick squeeze, before leaving again. “Waitin’ for yer call, bonnie.”

That call came like two days later. You managed to rearrange some appointments to clear a day for the Scot. Telling yourself that it was only because he was a friend of Simon. Not because you found quite a liking in the man and his flirtatious manner. So, two days later he was seated in your shop again. Upper half of his body completely stripped. He told you he was more comfortable with wearing no shirt at all, then pushing the sleeve up again and again. Yes, he could’ve just worn a tank-top but who were you to judge? He was quite a treat for the eyes. You just prepped his upper arm with the stencil as he told you a story how he tried to sneak into the military while he wasn’t even old enough.

“Simon was right, you’re unbelievable.” You smiled while smoothing the stencil paper over his arm. He stayed completely still, while his inside was trembling as he felt your delicate touch on his skin. Even with you wearing those gloves it gave him so much to enjoy. Desperate for more already.

“Hope he only told yer good things. Dinnea want ye to think bad of me.” He smiled sincere. His face turned to you, as you slowly removed the paper. It was close to yours, as your glance found his once more. The smile he wore reached his eyes and again you found yourself with the same warmth on your cheeks, your own lips tugged up in a genuine smile.

“Don’t worry. Only the best.” You chuckled while rolling with your stool a bit away to look at the outline of the work. “Take a look, if we can start or if you want to change a thing.” You took a mirror to let him get a proper look at the piece. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace. Because this is going to stay with you for eternity.” You were used to customers completely smitten by the stencil itself, but with Johnny it was different. His eyes were shining bright, as bright as his smile. But his eyes were more pinned on you, and not onto the future piece of art decorating his skin.

“Dinnea think of anything to change. Dae yer thing, bonnie,” he cooed, and it gave you that feeling in your guts again. Somehow you believed he didn’t even care about the tattoo itself. Still, he used something that fitted him perfectly. Well, as perfect as you could assume from Simon’s stories. And the following hours reassured you. With that you started to let the needles sink into his skin for the next seven hours. Black and white ink forming a masterpiece just after your liking while you listened to all the stories Johnny shared eagerly with you. Asking you many questions about your life beside the studio and customers. Asking about your family. You learned that he had two sisters and was really close to them as well to his mum. He shared openly so much information about himself, that you yourself kept talking about everything under the sun.

Sometimes he had to reposition his arm that you could reach a spot better. What led to a half hour of his calloused palm resting on your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his thumb stroke over the fabric of your pants. You’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it. With your job it came naturally to be close and kind of touchy-feely with your customers. But it wasn’t so common for you, that it affected you personally. Especially when it came so casually by him. He kept talking about that one time when his teammate, Gaz, fell out of a helicopter. Even if Johnny wasn’t there himself, he told the story so passionately that you believed you were there yourself while his thumb still caressed your thigh. His gently touch making your stomach tingle as you tried to stay focused.

Soon seven hours came to an end and a boar’s head was now engraved onto his upper right arm. Not like the usual animal portrait you so often had to do. No, it was indeed something more meaningful to him. Connecting the pride for his home country to his family, mixed with your personal note to give the tattoo a specific spice. Johnny loved it as he stood proudly in front of the mirror, investigating every line you made.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect. Bonnie, yer the best,” he exhaled while placing a quick peck onto the crown of your head while turning back to the mirror. His gesture left you breathless for only a second. Emotional outbursts after a finished session weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, but Johnny always added another note to his actions and words. A subtle undertone that gave you butterflies.

“Glad you like it.” You smiled putting on another pair of gloves on to clean the piece and wrap it up properly. “You know how to take care of it?” you said calm while placing the second skin onto the fresh wound. Johnny shook his head slightly and it earned him a chuckle. “Alright, the second skin stays on for like five days. If it loosens before, don’t break your pretty head about it. Then you wash it with usual water and cream it with special lotion. I’ll give you some. No gym, nothing to make you sweat more. No sunbathing and no swimming for the next two weeks,” you said reaching to your supplies to get a tube of tattoo med out. “You should drop by then to let me have a look. If we need to improve…redo some things, or if everything heals perfectly fine.”

“Lass could simply ask me out if ye wanna see me again.” He winked while pulling his shirt back on. His eyes never leaving your figure and finding a liking in seeing you all flustered. He was good looking; indeed, he knew the effect he held against woman. But with you it was different. He just wanted you to like him, to look at him like he thought he looked at you. Smitten.

“Not my kinda style.” You shrugged it off. What somehow demotivated the Scot. The whole time you were flirting back and forth with him, and when he discreetly asked you out, you turned so distant. He wouldn’t give up so easily though. Therefore, he was way too eager, but he called it a day. Paying you your loan and with that you somehow parted ways. The job was done, and you both went after your business.

Unfortunately, Johnny couldn’t stop by after the two weeks mark was passed. He got suddenly drafted in again, he just shot you a quick text.

Johnny MacTavish [09:03] Sry, bonnie. Works callin. Gonna make it up to ye ;)

You [10:36] Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

You [10:39] Come back alive.

Johnny chuckled silently after your second message arrived. Those three words gave him an unbearable urge to see you again. Already sitting on the truck next to Simon. “Ye couldn’t keep her away forever, Lt.,” he snickered, shoving his phone into the pocket that would stay off the fields.

“At least I tried…” Simon sighed half annoyed, but half amused. He knew both of you well enough to know, that you’d fit each other’s liking way too good. It was hard to keep up with one of you, but having both combined would bring him the death of his peace. But he was sure, that it wouldn’t become something more. At least he hoped. You had rules, and on top of the list stood: No flings with customers. Especially not after what happened with your ex. So, Simon was sure that Johnny would become at furthest a good friend to you, just like Simon did. He was as sure as he was that this operation would be easy and that nothing would keep them occupied for too long. But Simon was so very wrong about both.

The mission went south faster than Price could smoke his cigar. Kyle was the worst injured, while Johnny didn’t sustain any injuries. It made it clear again. Clear how dangerous the path was they were following. He loved his job; he wouldn’t change a thing. But to know that he almost lost his teammates, it made something to him. So, while sitting at the train station, that should bring him back to Scotland to spend some time to recover, he pulled his phone out.

Johnny MacTavish [12:29] Yer havin a free spot for yer fave Scot?<3

You [12:39] Drop by the studio tomorrow noon.

You [12:41] Sacrificing my days off for you. Make it worthy.

Johnny MacTavish [12:42] Aye!

And Johnny made sure to make it worthy. Instantly jumping on a train to London, instead of home. Booking a hotel nearby on the way and making sure to collect some stuff on the way. He picked up some good lunch on the way to the studio. Making sure to treat you right. He even thought about buying some flowers, but he didn’t want to make you somehow uncomfortable.

When he wanted to push the door once more open, it didn’t move an inch. Just then you walked up from the inside, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello there. C’mon in.” You held the door open for him to slide in. Locking the door once more after him, avoiding passing customers. “So, what’s the idea Mr. I don’t want any more tattoos?” you asked him mockingly, while he placed his stuff at the couch in the waiting area and unzipped his hoodie. You were used that customer often came back after the first one. Literally nobody stayed with only one of your pieces. For Johnny you were overly glad that he came back though.

“It’s even more special than before,” he said calm while pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. You took it in, and a little smile played on your lips. “I trust ye with it,” he added before his eyes met yours. You knew that look. It wasn’t the cheeky and playful smile. It was genuine, meaningful and he entrusted you with this, it made your heart flutter. So, you took your graphic tablet and get it to work out. Just as perfect as it needed to be.

You were seated on the couch in your waiting area next to him, while he kept telling your stories of operation and after-operation celebrations. He didn’t talk about the most recent one. You kept listening to his voice as you drew the outline for his next piece. He leaned a bit closer into your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked at the tablet. His talk paused. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t move, let him rest against you as you inhaled his scent. He smelled nothing like you’d imagine a soldier. Nothing like Simon when he came to the studio. He smelled just fresh. His mohawk holding a scent of balsam in, but also like a tone of green apple. “Something to fault it?” you asked calm.

“Yer dae even better.” Johnny let his head linger on your shoulder while his eyes scanned over the screen. There was shown a hat, a cap and a skull in your original style. Something so insignificant to others, but something so important to him. You sketched it out and prepared the stencil as he stripped his shirt once more. You stood in front of him as you looked at the piece from the last time. Checking if anything was damaged, a satisfied smile on your lips. Just then you prepared his left chest for the three symbols. His hands twitched as you stroke over his chest, and he just wished for you to ditch those damn gloves. His eyes pinned down to your figure, as you wore a little smile, while your fingers worked over his chest.

It took another good amount of time to get this piece done. You took more breaks this time. Sharing some of the food he brought, and many laughs, while he laid on the flat bed and your next to him. Carefully going after the lines of the stencil, while his arm slipped around you and his hand lingered on your waist so often during the process. You didn’t mind. Neither of you said something about it, just enjoyed the company, the closeness as you shared some more chats. But sooner than later this session come to an end. That way you found yourself standing next to him, observing his face as he looked at the latest addition in the mirror. A smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t like the bright and toothy ones; it was heart melting and genuine. Something so meaningful. “Tapadh leat,” he said a bit absently. It made you raise your brows. His eyes finding yours, while his hands finding your waist. “Thank ye,” he repeated for you to understand, and you smiled, while he didn’t dare to pull you closer. His huge palms only squeezing your side a bit as you stood in front of each other.

“It’s my job, Johnny,” you said calm. And he shook his head no, while he once more squeezed your waist what made you tilt your head in confusion slightly. But you didn’t give it another thought. You wrapped his tattoo up; he pulled his clothes on again and you went to the front desk for the check out. You broke down the skin routine once more with him, but he interrupted you.

“Go out with me,” he said abruptly before you could even say something more. His voice was desperate, but at the same time so gentle.

“MacTavish…” you sighed while your own heart ached. You had your rules. A rule you broke once, and it was the worst decision you ever made. Simon had to help you back then to free you from the stalker your ex-customer and ex-boyfriend was. And with his leaving you lost many regular customers and friends. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it again, even if you knew that Johnny would be different. Even when your heart screamed to just say yes to him.

“Otherwise, I need to come back every time on leave to get another one.” His voice gave you some hints of a joke, still you weren’t so sure about it if he really was joking. His eyes were filled with a certainty, a determination. You averted your eyes.

“I am sorry…” you said calm. But he only declined it. His face a bit defeated, but still something told you he wasn’t done with the thought. Simon told you once how stubborn this man could be, so you steeled yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t give in. Even if it would be hard when those azure eyes literal begged for you to do so.

“Gonna stay ‘n London for three weeks. If ye make up yer mind. Ye ken how to find me,” he said while leaving your studio.

You exhaled deeply after closing the door after him. Waving after him as he crossed the street. His eyes still bright as always. You cleaned up the studio and went to the front desk for a last time today. As you flipped you through the bills to put them away something different caught your interest. A little paper neatly folded between the notes. You took it and unfolding it. It revealed a sketch of your own face. It was a unique art style, and it made your heart ache even more. Under the sketch was something written in a sloppy handwriting. ‘nae stunning as the original’ You pressed the paper to your chest, while a desperate chuckle left your throat. “John MacTavish…you’re gonna be the death of mine,” you said calm to yourself as you put the drawing into your personal journal.

“He came for ‘nother one?” It was a few days after your gripping encounter with the Scot when Simon was seated in your studio again. Working to add a new part to his back piece. You only nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “Ya like him, don’t ya?” The Brit said calm. You paused your work for a second. Not answering him was answer enough for Simon, what made him chuckle deeply.

“Si…” you exhaled while continuing your work. You wanted to say so much about that topic because he was right. You liked him. He already reserved a place in your heart for himself and the last days were only filled with that god damn genuine smile of the Scot. You found yourself often at night looking at the portrait he gifted you. Asking yourself how long you’d be able to turn him down.

“Tomorrow, drinks at yer place.” It wasn’t an offer, more like an order and you sighed. Not like you and Simon didn’t spend some time of sessions together. You were close after all. Drinking and talking or just watching some stupid shows together at your apartment. Even if the thought of you meeting his teammate still annoyed Simon, he couldn’t bring himself to watch two idiots pinning for each other when it was way too obvious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it for anyone to hear, seeing two of the people he liked the most falling for each other, it made the coldness of his own heart melt. You only needed a little excuse to ditch your rules. Even if Simon hated to break those. If it meant that you could finally be happy again after your ex, he was willing to help.

Lt💀 [17:09] 1900 at the studio

John MacTavish [17:11] What yer up to Lt?

Lt💀 [17:15] Don’t ask stupid questions.

Johnny knew better than asking more questions, so he got ready and made sure to be punctual. It was Sunday, so the studio was indeed closed as he stood in front of it at 18:56. As Simon walked around the corner, wearing all casual sweatpants and a hoodie, Johnny was even more confused. The Brit had a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store in one hand. “C’mon Johnny.” He punched his shoulder playfully while walking around the studio, aiming for a door in the side alley.

“Mind fillin’ me in, Lt?” he arched his brow at him while trailing close after him. Hands pushed into the pockets of his denim pants. Somehow, he felt overdressed next to the way too casual look of his Lieutenant.

Simon looked at his watch, waiting for another minute to pass. So, it was actual 7 p.m. and he pressed the button of an intercom. “It’s Simon for tonight,” he said, shooting Johnny a glare who only looked more confused but raising his hands in defense. The door started to buzz, and Simon pushed it open, signaling Johnny to follow him. Climbing some stairs before they found themselves in front of another door, which already stood a gap open. So, Simon naturally walked in, kicked his shoes of and Johnny followed his lead.

“Hello there,” you chimed while walking up to give Simon a quick hug, which he returned before ditching his mask. Your eyes switching to Johnny who just wore a stunned smile. He had thought of many things to happen tonight, but not to find himself in your apartment together with his Lieutenant and a various beers and whiskeys.

You all shared some good laughs, some amazing and catching stories. You told them about some cringe customers and very hilarious stories they shared with you. Johnny and Simon entertained you with sharing stories of their daily events. Johnny didn’t know what excited him more, the way he saw his stoic superior so at ease around you. Joking, laughing and even open so much. Or the fact that you were seated next to him, somehow always having one of his limbs touching any part of you as his eyes were glued to your lips.

It was an easy-going evening when you all had way too many drinks. You were just on the way to bring some empty bottles over to the kitchen when you could hear the teasing voice of Simon once more. “For a lad, that didn’t want any more tattoos, ya fast with getting’ new ones,” he joked, and Johnny only scratched his neck. His cheeks tainted red, mostly from the alcohol running through his system you supposed. “Ya know, Kyle even bet ya’d get a trump stamp if necessary.”

Johnny let out a wholehearted laugh. To be honest, if his whole body was already covered in tattoos and this would be the only way to see you again. He’d do it without hesitation. Hesitation was something you didn’t know today either. Just like that you walked over to the Scot. “Real talk now.” Without a warning you sat down, straddling his lap as your arms found his shoulders. Johnny only swallowed, sobered up so suddenly as you pushed your body weight onto him. “If you ever get a tramp stamp and I am not the person to do it… we won’t have a shared future darling,” you said mockingly, while your hands found some loose strains of his hair. Simon only laughed as he leaned back in the armchair, sipping on the beer in his hand. Watching the scenery in front of him in amusement.

“Bonnie, yer the only one for me. Ya ken,” he said while his beefy hands found your waist, helping to stabilize you on top of him. His words held much more meaning in it than you’d realize in your drunken state. His heartbeat quickened up as your fingers played with his hair. The redness of his cheeks rose, just like a certain tightness in his pants. He just hoped to not scare you away. But he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide it, you simply had to feel it the way you were seated just above the bulge.

You only laughed. Eventually you felt his arousal, eventually you just chose to not pay any attention to it. “Then let’s do it,” you joked, leaning a bit back to look at him properly. He looked flabbergasted back at you.

“Sweetheart, yer drunk,” Simon cooed, and Johnny literally forgot that the Brit was there until this very moment. At this point, he felt somehow embarrassed but also thrilled at the same time.

“Darling. You’d be able to kill a man when drunk. Aren’t ya?” you tilted your head to the Brit with a devilish smile. Simon only sighed, and your smile grew. “See! And I can tattoo then.” You laughed, turning your attention back to the Scot, who by now started to let his thumbs stroke over your waist, drawing lazy circles into the fabric of your top. “What you’re saying, love?” your mischievous smile aimed at him as your eyes pierced into his.

“Fuck it. Let’s dae it,” he said. The alcohol running through his veins was the main reason he agreed, but how could he deny you, when you were so beautifully seated above him. Hands stroking a long his neck and hairline what sent shivers down his spine. His mind was hazy, and he didn’t care for any consequences.

“That’s my boy!” You laughed while slowly standing up. “Benefits of living just above the studio.” You reached for the keys to the studio and signaled the men to follow you. Just a few minutes later you found yourself in the studio downstairs, everything prepared for this very spontaneous and somehow dumb idea. If you’d be sober, you’d never agreed on it. Giving a tattoo to a drunken person is indeed very unreasonable. The body tend to bleed way more with alcohol rushing through it. Quite apart from being drunk yourself. But who said that you made wise decisions in the whole process?

Johnny was positioned on his stomach on the flat bad. His shirt gone once more, and his pants awkwardly pulled down to reveal the required spot. Simon was seated next to you, as you started to draw a tramp stamp freehand on his lower back. For this part you ditched the glove and Johnny couldn’t be happier about it. At the same time, he found himself in quite the misery. This tattoo session giving him a literal hard time, while Simon talked with you the whole time and Johnny only felt your delicate skin onto him. Simon laughed from time to time about the design or the muffled groans the Scot let out. Johnny was certain that Simon did fairly well know about his misery.

In your current state the tattoo took way longer than it would usually have been. But you didn’t mind. The delicious view in front of you made it easier to pull through. And now while your mind was flooded with those inappropriate thoughts, you couldn’t suppress the longing the Scot caused deep in your heart.

“What’d you think, Si?” you placed the tattoo gun down and looked at the artwork, wiping the excess ink away. It wasn’t your masterpiece, but you were more than satisfied.

“Bloody ‘ell. ‘s perfect.” Simon laughed, while looking at the lower back of the Scot.

“Lemme see.” Johnny carefully stood up and walked over the mirror. You haven’t talked about a design, he trusted you to just do your thing and the face he just wore made it so worthy. Even if he would’ve been pissed seeing it. “Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny stood in front of the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see a squiggly tribal leading to the center of nothing else than a unicorn.

“You don’t like it?” you walked up to him, standing just in front of him as he faced you again. There was no regret in his face, only a smile on his lips before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. He pulled you close to his chest as he kept laughing and you just joined him. Placing your hand gentle on his bare back as you started to giggle yourself. It felt way too comfortable.

“Wait a damn minute.” It was Simon who interrupted the scenery. Pulling you a bit away from him. Not forcefully, not to cause any harm. He looked stunned at the chest of the Scot, while his hand was still placed on your shoulder from his earlier action. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he said with disbelief in his voice staring at the three familiar icons on the bare chest in front of him.

Johnny only smiled at him. “Surprise.” His hands stayed at your hips, as all of you three started to laugh at the situation. One of your hands pulling at Simon’s shirt what led to a tight hug shared between the three of you.

Time passed and you haven’t heard of one of them in the next months. You were used to it through your friendship with Simon. But now it was different. It bugged you more than before. Of course, you always did kind of worry for the man, but now there were two men you struggled about. You needed to fight the internal urge to shoot him a message. Asking if he’d be fine and safe, but you didn’t. Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him.

It already turned fall when and you started to decorate the studio. The whole place screamed Halloween now, but it wasn’t enough. One of your favorite seasons and it needed to be celebrated right. It was already quite late as you received a text that your appointment for tomorrow cancelled due to sickness. You hated last minute cancellations because you wouldn’t find any replacement. But this time it was somehow fine. The last days were so stuffed full that you could actually look forward to a day off. So, you made plans to go shopping for even more decorations. Enjoying a day off just for yourself. Well, that was your actual plan. A plan that got thrown over as soon as you noticed a familiar face walking through the front door. You turned around and greeted him with a bright smile. Relieve settling in your bones to see him again. He walked strictly up to you and only stopped a few centimeters away. “Johnny.” Before you could even say anything more, he pulled you close to his chest, and you completely engulfed in his embrace. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, as your hands found his back. Drawing lazy circles on his back.

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You didn't know how long until you spoke again. “I can make you some tea and we can talk. If you want to,” you offered with a soft voice, your hand still caressing his back through the thick layers of his jacket.

“Need something stronger.” Was his only response. So, you closed the store and brought him upstairs. He instantly sank down on your couch as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and purred him a glass. “Thanks, bonnie,” he said calm while taking the glass. You sat next to him; your eyes filled with concern. The usual smile washed away from his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Johnny,” you literally begged him. Your hands finding his thigh, what made him look at you. His eyes were still the same azure ones you fell for, but somehow, they looked pale. He looked drained and tired.

He leaned closer to you, until his forehead was resting against yours. Eyes closed, while his hand found the back of your head. “I was scared…” His voice just above a whisper. A quiet confession. “so fuckin’ scared…that I wouldn’t be able to see you again.” His fingers stroked through your hair as you closed your eyes. Trying to suppress the sudden burn you felt in your eyes. His honesty broke your mind and the sheer thought of not being able to reunite with him anymore, it broke your heart. But he was here with you. He was safe with you. Still, you were only friends. You shouldn’t feel those things for your friend.

“I am here, Johnny.” Your voice was soft as your palms found his chest. “I am not going anywhere.” You added a little reassuring tone before he pulled his head only a centimeter away from yours. His blue eyes somewhat brighter than before, staring in yours. You melted right there as his other hand discarded the glass to reach out to your cheek. Your eyes were glued onto the gaze he gifted you. His eyes filled with adoration as the corner of his lips slightly tugged up again.

“Please…” His thumb stroked over your cheek before it took a gentle grip of your jawline. “Let me kiss you.” His glance darted between your lips and your eyes, waiting for your response with anticipation. The slight movement of your head giving him permission was the only thing he needed. Instantly closing the gap between you, as his lips brushed over yours. Gentle and soft, and still you could feel how he held back. The hand on the back of your head pulling you closer. Your hands found his neck as your melted into his touch. You broke away for a second looking into his eyes once more. They were blown with lust and endearment. No way you could retreat anymore.

“Johnny…” Your voice was soft as you pulled him back. You slowly leaned down on the couch and he immediately followed you, hovering just above you. “I am not a person for a one-night stand.” Your voice cracked a bit, but the smile on the Scots face reassured you instantly.

“Who said I’d leave ye.” He connected your lips once more. More eagerly, more lust filled, and you followed his lead. Taking a tight grip onto his neck. If you thought he was hard in the drunken state a few months ago, you were wrong. Nothing compared to the need he felt right now, growing every second as his kisses grew sloppier. Openmouthed wandering down to your neck. A moan left your throat as his teeth gently sank into the soft flesh of your neck. You could feel how everything in you screamed to take him. To feel him.

He leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect shaped body. A body you had seen so many times before during his appointments, but now everything felt different. He played with the hem of your shirt before he helped you strip out of it. “Like a goddess,” he praised while his calloused hands roamed down your body. Followed by passionate kisses and gently nibbles down to the waistband of your pants. “Let me taste ye hen,” he plead while toying with the hem of your pants.

“Go on, love.” Your voice was filled with so much adoration, it sent electric jolts through his body. He started to fidget with your trousers to free you. Just as your pants landed on the floor, you could feel the cold breeze brushing against the hot spot between your legs. His finger carefully brushing over it. Your panties already soaked, what made him groan with anticipation.

“’st tell me when something feels wrong,” he said soft before pushing the black lace aside to let his mouth take care of your cunt. As soon as he let his tongue slid through your folds you already arched your back. Another groan was heard as his hand took grip of your hips. He ate like a man starved, while you cried out his name. Johnny had to pull himself together not to cum right there as he tasted you. Everything in him screamed to let go. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when you were so pretty spread only for him. He stood up, liking over his lips as you looked at him. Your chest heaving. “Cannae wait any longer. ‘m sorry, pet.” He unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers, followed by his briefs. It made his hardened member jump against his stomach. You parted your lips at the sight. He was an average man, but still shaped like an image out of your wildest dreams. He climbed back on the couch to hover over you. Leaning on one arm, the free one was between your bodies. His hand guiding his cock along your folds. Your hand found his back as your eyes locked again.

“The impatient man you are, John MacTavish.” Your smile enlightened the passion within him even more, as he let the tip slid through your entry. Teasing you with a mischievous smile. Your nails digging into his back as your breath got caught in your throat. “Johnny…” You whined into his mouth while he kept it occupied with his heated kisses.

“Who’s the one impatient now, mo ghraidh?” His smug grin only grew as his lips caught yours in another kiss as he pushed himself inside. You cried out while he gave you some time to adjust. He ditched everything, the prep, the foreplay, he needed you right now and for the loving woman you’re, you couldn’t even try to protest, as it already made you feel that good. You wanted to be good for him, and only him.

“Takin’ me so good,” he praised while pushing deeper in. Feeling your plushy walls around his length already sent him into an abyss. It took him a bit longer to fully button out, letting you adjust to his seize. Showering you with more praise and kisses. As your body started to relax more he started to move. Rolling his hips against yours, letting him slip out and in again. “Hells bells…,” he cried out as he thrusted into your tight hole. His hands holding you tight against him. His forehead pressed to your temple.

Both of you knew you wouldn’t last long. The longing, the desire that grew over the time so huge that it became unbearable anymore. But he promised you that it wouldn’t be just a casual fling. He promised to stay. All the pent-up emotions leading you to the edge so soon. “I’m so close.” He didn’t slow down at your words. Rather pushing his pace up as he felt your walls pulsating.

“I ken.” He kissed your forehead, as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back. “’st let go, for me.” He assured you while he pulled himself together. Your hands forcing him impossible closer to you as you felt your walls clenching around him as he rocked against that spongy spot inside you. You nodded fast as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, while he pushed his body weight onto you. Kissing your temple as he went deeper and slower. Rolling his hips to keep pushing at that same spot.

The heat building up as it felt unbearable anymore. He pushed you over the edge and you could feel how his length started to twitch inside. You only nodded before he could even ask, while your head stayed pressed against his shoulder. Your orgasm washing over you so hard, that tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Completely clouding your mind. Somehow, you had to compensate the overwhelming sensation, so your teeth found his neck and you bit in his flesh as he painted your walls white. A deep groan leaving his throat as he rode out his high. You only loosened your jaw as your tongue could sense the taste of iron. You fell back as he collapsed on top of you. He placed another kiss onto your temple. “Dae so good for me, mo ghraidh,” he cooed while your hands clung to his back.

“Will you stay?” your voice was low, brushing over his skin. Somehow scared that this wasn’t real. That his promise wasn’t real. That he wasn’t serious. Even if you knew deep down that those eyes couldn’t lie. And even if they did, you were too addicted of him, you would just accept it that way.

“Inside ye?” The smug grin that reached his eyes was finally back on his lips as he propped himself up a bit. You punched him playfully.

“No, you idiot. In general.” You looked into his now softened eyes. He placed another kiss onto your lips. He slowly pulled out and gently stroked some damp hair from your forehead away. He didn’t need to answer that. Actions were louder than words. He made sure you took a relaxing bath together and afterwards just cuddled up in your bed.

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere.” He kissed your temple while pulling you in his chest. Spooning you and you just curled yourself up, clinging to the strong arm around you. Already on the way to drift away with him being all around you. You couldn’t even wish him sweet dreams anymore.

The next morning felt unreal. As you woke up you found the side next to you already empty. A sigh left your throat as you walked into the living room. After your actions of last night, you slept in nothing more than a fresh pair of panties and his shirt. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to your living room. It looked hilarious how big his shirt was on you. A smile crept on your face as you noticed a low humming.

“Mornin’ bonnie.” Johnny came out of the bathroom, instantly pulling you close to him again. He only wore his briefs. A sight you never wanted to miss anymore. His tattoos by now perfectly healed.

Suddenly something different caught your interest. “I am sorry.” Your eyes wandered to the mark you left on his neck. It was slightly bruised, and you could clearly see an imprint of your teeth. Johnny looked at you and then at himself in the mirror. Examining the spot on his neck and a smile crept on his lips.

“Dinnea need to.” He turned to you, pulling you close to him once more. “Tattoo it.” His words rolled so easily over his lips. You blinked at him in confusion. “’m nae jokin’.”

“Johnny… that’s…a confession…quite possessive”. You tried to find the right words which was hard. You didn’t even know what you actually were, and he wanted you to tattoo your bite mark onto him. Maybe it was like a kink to him? Maybe he was just that cocky. But he didn’t give you space to let your mind wander any more.

“That’s the whole fuckin’ point.” He placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I want the whole world to see who I belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was his way to show you, that this indeed wasn’t just a one-night stand. A love drunken smile crept on your face.

“You’ll regret it sooner or later.” You stated while your fingers brushed over the mark.

“But what if…” He placed a kiss onto your head. “…what if I dinnea.” He smiled at you, watching how your eyes scanned the spot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am yer eejit.” He corrected you without hesitation. “If ye let me though.”

You pushed your face into his chest, and he wrapped his beefy arms around you. “Let’s get some breakfast first.” Your voice nothing more than a mumble against his chest, which vibrated due to his laugh, nodding before following you into the kitchen.

Did Johnny spend his whole time on leave at your place in London? Eventually. Just as he got a text from his Captain he left with a sad look in his face, but he promised to return safe. He now had a reason to return. Was the time on operations harder? Not really. You worried as much as before, but now you were officially allowed to text him or Simon to look after each other. Did he get teased by Gaz for the new tattoo found at his neck more than the tramp stamp? Equally Simon would say. But Johnny didn’t mind because both held a unique and deep meaning in his heart. Just like his love for his home country shown through the boar on his upper arm, with what he also had the connection to his family on him. Just like the tattoo symbolizing his teammates, his second family, just above the spot where his heart pumped in his chest. And for every man that would mock him for the tamp stramp he’d flash them in the gym, he only smiled wide, giving them a wink. Knowing that this tattoo marked the start of one of the best things happening in his life. An evening with two of the most important people to him. An evening that he’d forever cherish.

At this point John MacTavish was sure that he was done with getting tattoos. He had the things that were most important to him now immortalized onto his skin. But sometimes this man was in the very wrong. Because about two years later, he found himself once more surrounded by the buzzing of a tattoo gun. Two years that were spent in the fields with his team to make the world a better place. Just to return into your arms at the end of the day. In those two years he never regretted any line you placed onto his body. And he never would regret the fifths tattoo he was just about to get. It was different than the times before.

He was surrounded by his teammates, and your closest friends. Really just the closest of the inner circle. Keeping it as discreet as possible. The big day with everyone would be postponed to another date. But as always, Johnny wasn’t a patient man, so he wanted to have something beforehand. Something just for both of you before he had to go save the world again. That way he wore a casual decent but still traditional fit. The red and blue of his family’s tartan painted his kilt. The same tartan the scarf had you wore around your shoulders. A decent dress below, as you let the needles sink into his skin once more. His hand in yours as you tattooed a simple line around his ring finger. A similar one you already had on your hand. The first and only tattoo the Scot would ever give someone was now around your finger.

Just as you finished you kissed once more, while smiling at each other like the love drunken birds you were, as everyone around you clapped and cheered at you. Your studio filled with so much love and joy like never before. A moment you will always look back to in awe.

“I told ye, MacTavish would suit ye.” He teased while holding you close. His words nearly drowning between the noises of your friends and family.

You punched him playfully against his chest. “I love you too, eejit.”

“Don’t they have to say like I do or anything like that,” Kyle mumbled over to Simon, who just shrugged but smiled at the couple, now husband and wife, in front of him.

Even if you were glad that all the important ones were here around you, in the end only on person mattered to you. And that was the man holding you close in his embrace as he leaned his forehead against yours like he did millions of times before. Every night wondering if he’s alright. Every day waiting for his return. Every nightmare you endured. Everything was so worthy, just to have him close next to you and see him smile down at you. And everything started with a tattoo he never even wanted in the first place. A tattoo that led to four more. A tattoo that gave him a life with you by his side, because from the moment he met you, you went under his skin and there was no way he could ever escape it. Not that he even wanted to.

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