#serial killer reader is totally a puppy because I Say So | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Move This Along

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After months of waiting, Spencer decides he finally wants to have sex with Reader. Category: SMUT (18+) Warnings: Language, sex (oral sex- female receiving, virgin!Spence, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie) Word Count: 5.6k

Full Request: “...so a smutty oneshot with like virgin!spencer but im talkling like baby spence. and hes super blushy and cute but then when it happens its rlly raunchy and therws a lot of dirty talk. and like reader doesnt work at the bau but theyre close friends. and like she goes out to a bar with him and the team and they tease him so then she takes him home and literally fucks him after a movie or smth idk...” — @mggscumrag

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to do this, but once I did, it came out so quickly! I hope it’s to your liking 🥰

***

The first time she went out to meet Elle's friends from work, Y/N found herself absolutely nervous, and she wasn't sure why. She was always great with meeting new people, but for some reason, the prospect of meeting her next-door neighbor's co-workers seemed to really do a number on her.

She remembers how anxious she'd been, constantly worrying that they wouldn't like her, not to mention they were all probably super smart and strong and intimidating, just like Elle. Anyone who aided in putting away serial killers, rapists, and other monsters had to be just about the most intimidating personality there ever was.

But as Y/N soon learned, that wasn't quite the case at all.

To be fair, they were all intimidating in their own little ways, though it was really easy to forget about that when she was laughing with them, sharing drinks and stories, and exchanging phone numbers to stay in touch.

That's how she and Spencer had come to be good friends. Despite how obviously shy he was whenever they saw each other, the two of them managed to have conversations on just about everything. It usually happened that he talked and she listened to whatever he was teaching her, but she'd always add on the occasional, "Wow, I didn't know that," or "That's really fascinating." All of which she could tell he was surprised at and appreciated.

And since the first time they met at Elle's birthday party, the night she met the whole team for the first time, they'd been practically inseparable. While Y/N was good friends with the whole team, save for Gideon, who always seemed to like it better by himself, her relationship with Spencer seemed to even surpass the bond she'd built with her neighbor-slash-best friend.

Elle even told her as much one Saturday night, as the two of them were driving to the bar to meet up with everyone for a few drinks.

She'd mentioned it as a joke, but Y/N was instantly apologetic.

Elle only laughed. "Don't apologize. Actually, I think it's good that Reid has another friend outside of work. You're good for him. And you know, I think he has a little crush on you."

Warmth rushed to Y/N's cheeks, and she tried to hide it but failed miserably, causing Elle to give her a knowing smile. "Y—You don't know what you're talking about, Elle, it's not like that."

"Oh come on, it totally is. You give him the light of day when no one else does, he talks about you all the time, and everyone at work knows it."

She paused. "They... do?"

"Of course they do, we're all profilers, but it doesn't take one to see how obsessed that boy is with you. I think you should go for it."

Y/N would have been lying if she said she hadn't thought about asking him out. But in the end she had always figured it was a little weird, being that she was friends with all his and Elle's co-workers and she'd kinda been adopted into their family of sorts. But hearing what her neighbor was saying... She started to think differently about it.

"You really think so?"

Elle nodded. "Absolutely."'

"Okay," she replied with an excited smile. "Maybe I will, then."

A week later and the two of them started dating. Y/N always thinks back to the first few weeks of their relationship, how adorably shy and blush-prone Spencer was, even after they'd been together for some time. They spent almost all their free time together, and it still seemed like he was nervous to be around her. He'd assured her on multiple occasions that that wasn't the case, but Y/N still wondered why he hadn't fully warmed up to being around her.

Especially in public. Oh, in public it was worse. Y/N clung to his arm, and his face immediately got red. What confused her the most, though, was that every time she pulled away to make him more comfortable, he pulled her back in, seemingly desperate to feel her warmth.

In the end she and Spencer had grown to develop their own little communication system for public settings, something to let the other know when something was really wrong, and when to ask if the other was comfortable.

One night everyone was meeting after a rough case somewhere in Denver, and Y/N offered to buy everyone drinks once Spencer had called to tell her they were all back. It wasn't out of the ordinary for her to do that, but it had been a while, so everyone was quick to except. Well, mostly everyone— Gideon as per usual went his separate way, and Hotch was eager to get home and see his family.

Y/N was waiting for them at their favorite bar downtown when she heard a loud squeal that sounded a lot like her name. Sure enough, it was easy to spot a very yellow-clad Penelope Garcia headed straight towards her with her arms stretched out for a hug when she turned around. The smile she adorned was instantaneous as her arms came out a well, embracing Penelope with a large hug that almost knocked the wind out of her.

"I missed you!" she exclaimed, still hugging Y/N and swaying them back and forth a little. "I mean, I know I don't ever travel with the team, but because of that we should hang out more."

"Next time I need some company, I know who to call."

Y/N spotted Spencer then, behind Penelope and patiently waiting for a greeting. She smiled at him and whispered, "Hi," to which Penelope must have heard.

She quickly released her from their embrace and stepped out of the way. "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from your boy wonder."

She laughed as she transferred from Penelope's arms to Spencer's. He muttered a little, "Hi," into her hair as she squeezed him and shoved her face into his neck. If she had to bet, he was probably red as a tomato right now with how close her mouth was to his neck—it was his weakness and she knew it. And just to tease him a little bit she quickly kissed up his neck, his jaw, and placed a decent peck on his lips before pulling away and grabbing his hand.

Despite the shy smile and the blush adorning his cheeks, he squeezed her hand tight and kept her at his side like they would die if they weren't touching at all times.

Everyone gave little greetings to Y/N as they all made their way to a large booth near the back. Y/N was sitting on one side with Elle to her right and Spencer to her left, while Derek, Penelope, and JJ sat across from them. Y/N got them all their preferred drinks, and a beer for herself, which Spencer couldn't help but find oddly attractive.

He glanced over at her as she took swigs from the bottle as the night progressed, and for whatever reason the sight made his insides all warm and tingly. And when she used her unoccupied hand to grab his under the table, rubbing gentle circles over the inside of his palm with her thumb, he'd never felt more in love with another person. He wasn't even drinking any alcohol, yet his head swam and his heart soared all the same, every bone in his body humming with euphoria at just the mere thought of her.

He must have been staring a little too obviously, because Derek kicked his leg under the table, pulling him from the lovesick daydream he never wanted to leave.

"I can't tell if those are cute ol' puppy dog eyes or bedroom eyes," Derek laughed, and everyone laughed right alongside him.

"Oh, stop it," Penelope said, swatting his arm. "He's obviously just very in love with her, what more could you need to know?"

"Oh, come on, tell me you're not curious to know how they... operate."

She smacked him harder this time, and everyone laughed.

Knowing her boyfriend didn't really care for the spotlight, especially when it came to their relationship, Y/N squeezed Spencer's hand under the table in reassurance. She drew a question mark in his palm, their signal for, "Are you uncomfortable?" And he responded by drawing an "X" in her palm, their answer for, "No." She laced their fingers together then, and set her beer down.

"Morgan, our sex life isn't any of your business," she stated simply.

Spencer felt his stomach churn at the sentence, if only because said sex life was, as of late, non-existent.

He and Y/N had made out a lot, sure, but the one time they did try having sex, he made it about ten seconds being inside of her before he finished, and since then he'd been kind of embarrassed about it. They only ever made out since then, because before it ever got that far he stopped it, nervous that he'd disappoint her.

And now his non-existent sex life was the topic of conversation, and if anyone picked up on it, he would have felt worse about the whole thing.

So, he didn't stop himself from speaking. "But if you must know, it's great."

Y/N's hand tensed up in his, and she looked over at him, shock marinating in her eyes. To anyone else it would have looked like she was surprised he'd even bring it up, but he knew she was most likely more curious to know why he'd lied about it.

Their friends laughed regardless, Elle adding a curious and joking, "Care to elaborate?"

Ready to change the subject, Spencer shook his head. "Nope."

"Yeah, actually I think we're gonna head out early," Y/N added. Spencer was suddenly worried he'd made her upset, but she rubbed gentle circles into his hand that reassured him everything was okay.

He got out of the booth and Y/N followed, as their friends grumbled.

"Oh, come on, we didn't mean to embarrass you guys," Derek said.

"No, that's not it," Y/N said as she threw on a light jacket. "You just reminded me how much I'd like to operate with my boyfriend since I haven't seen him in a few days, so we're leaving. Have a good night."

Spencer felt searing heat rise to his cheeks as he turned around and ushered Y/N out the door, accompanied by low whistles and claps from their friends.

***

The two of them were sitting on the couch now, Y/N having just set down a couple classes of water.

"Sorry if you wanted to stay," she said quietly, playing with her thumbs. "You know we don't... actually have to operate if you don't want, obviously, I was just looking for something to say..."

"Oh, Y/N, I know. Don't worry about it. Really, I... I was the one who even brought it up, I should have just let you handle it."

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Why.. did you bring it up anyway?"

"Well, I... I guess I just felt embarrassed. And I know what we do together isn't any of their business, but I was just... I really was thinking about how much I love you, and when Morgan brought it up, I felt like I wasn't... living up? To your expectations? I don't..." He sighed, unsure how to properly articulate how he was feeling. "I don't know. I just thought about the last time we tried having sex, and I felt embarrassed about it, that's all."

"Oh, honey," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him and bringing her hand up to brush some of the hair from his face. "You know, you... don't have anything to prove, right? I know how much you love me, and you don't need to be having sex with me to show me, I hope you know that."

Still, he couldn't bring himself to look at her face. "I do," he choked out, pulling at the hem of his shirt. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Y/N's tongue clicked, and she leaned into him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck and placing the other across his lap. She held him tight and kissed the side of his head. "Don't you ever be sorry, unless you cheat on me. Then there will be something to be sorry about."

He laughed at her joke, turning his head to brush his nose against hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered, giving him the lightest of kisses on the lips.

When she pulled away, he leaned in again, kissing her a little harder, and she gladly reciprocated. With every passing second, all of his worries started to melt away like the snow to her sunshine. Within every kiss was an emanation of outpouring love and comfort that warmed his soul and gave him the confidence to try something bold.

His hands threaded through her hair as he drew her in closer, and instinctively, she climbed over his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders as he gently probed her mouth with his tongue. The sound of her sigh as she opened up to him and allowed him to fully explore her mouth with his made his stomach bubble and tense.

This would be about the time where he'd stop, telling Y/N that they should slow down, and she'd sweetly oblige and stay cuddled into his side as they drifted off to sleep.

But tonight he didn't want that.

Tonight he wanted more.

While one of his hands remained in her hair, gently massaging her scalp, the other snaked down to her lower back. He gently slid his fingers under the fabric of her shirt and pressed his palm flat against her, pulling her closer to him with a desperation that both shocked and excited her.

Deciding to test the waters, Y/N rolled her hips, feeling him jump slightly underneath her, followed by a whine that vibrated her mouth and sent a low hum of pressure through her stomach.

Still, she pulled away.

Well... She tried to.

When she pulled her face away from him, Spencer used the hand in her hair to bring her back, tilting his head in the other direction and continuing to kiss her with enough passion for the both of them. And it didn't help that the sound she made when he did it spurred him on. She whimpered loudly into his mouth, and the hand on her back involuntarily slid down to grab her ass.

"Hey," she managed to get out when he pulled away momentarily for air. "Hey, you don't... We don't have to really do this if you don't want. I—I don't want you to think that what happened earlier means we have to have sex."

"Y/N..." His hand gently kneaded her ass, and against her better judgement, she rolled her hips again, sighing out against his lips. "I don't want to put it off any longer... Really, I... I want to. I want to show you how much I love you."

She kissed him softly again, bringing both of her hands up to cradle his face. "You already do. Every day."

She was giving him an out, and Spencer appreciated it. But with the way his insides were practically melting away at her presence, he knew more than anything that this was what he wanted.

"I know," he said. "But if you don't mind, today I'd like to show you a little extra." And then he kissed her deeply again.

Her hands tightened on his face, right before they slid up and through his hair. She gently tugged at it, and he let out one of the most delicious sounds she'd ever heard. For future reference, she relished in that sound, in that feeling, and made a mental note to try it out some more when they got further along in their sexual path.

But tonight, she would let him call the shots. He was finally ready to try it again, and seeing how confident he grew in his touches and kisses when she submitted to him, it was the simplest decision.

So she remained on his lap until he made another move, encouraging him with whimpers and languid rolls of her hips against his. Her hands grew frenzied in his hair when he dipped his hand past the waistband of her jeans and underwear, sticking his fingers in only about a knuckle deep. The warmth of his hands against her bare skin sent shivers down her spine, which she let show by involuntarily grinding down on his lap.

Spencer groaned deeply more than whined this time, his grip on her hands gripping tighter to her backside. He forced himself to remove his mouth from hers long enough to breathe out, "Bedroom. Please."

As much as Y/N didn't want to get off of his lap, she knew that what waited for her in the bedroom would be worth the momentary loss of complete physical contact. So she peeled herself away from her boyfriend, grabbing him by the hand, and lead him to her bedroom.

Once the door was closed, he was on her again, caging her face between his large hands and capturing her lips in another heated kiss. They moved backwards until she hit her back against the door, and the second their movement stopped, Spencer used their standing position to press his full body weight into her, their legs tangling together.

Meanwhile, Y/N was trying to figure out where to put her hands. She wanted to brace them on his chest, but it was pressed tightly against hers. So they wandered over his back, but she couldn't decide whether to place them under his shirt or on his butt. Or maybe she wanted to grip his arms to feel the veins as they strained against his skin from holding her face. The possibilities were quite endless.

So endless that they were even surprising—Spencer noticed her wandering hands and promptly decided to place them where he wanted, which was apparently above her head. He removed his hands from her face and pinned her wrists to the door above her head, and she huffed a breath as he pulled away to speak.

"Is this okay? I wasn't too... too rough?"

The concern swimming in his lust-filled eyes drew a little whimper from her throat as she struggled to find the right words. But finally, she settled on, "That was so fucking hot..."

Relief flashed over his gaze right before he grinned. His fingers flexed against her wrists, and even though she couldn't see them, she could imagine how it looked. And it really was fucking hot.

Seeing the expression on her face, Spencer leaned forward again and kissed her one last time. Their lips moved together hungrily, dancing in perfect synchronization, the music being the frantic beating of their hearts.

And then he started to trail his kisses down her jaw and neck, keeping her hands firmly pinned to the door. Usually she was the one to explore his neck with her tongue and teeth, but this time he wanted to try it for himself. Mirroring what he'd felt her do to him hundreds of times over, he soaked in every single sound she made, from the little whimpers of pleasure to the soft, choked whispers of his name dancing over her lips. And when her hips canted forward, searching for any kind of friction, he decided to grant it to her.

As his kisses moved down along her collarbone, his hands gently slid down with him, over her arms and then down to the bottom of her shirt as he kneeled in front of her. He lifted the shirt slowly, each new inch of exposed skin being met with soft kisses until it reached her breasts. He reached up to palm them over her bra while he trailed his kisses downward again.

Even though she was wearing jeans, he pressed kisses to her legs anyway. She squirmed under his touch, and the feeling made his heart soar.

"Please, Spence," she huffed, bringing her hands down to lay overtop of his. She felt the tendons and veins in his hands as they squeezed her, and with everything she had, she tried not to beg him to use them in more interesting places. She wanted to let him take his time, to be a vessel for his exploration, but it was growing harder every second to be patient.

Thankfully he seemed to get what she was feeling, because his hands slid out from under her shirt and rested at her jeans. "Can I take these off?"

The fact that he even asked when she so clearly begged him to do it made her heart swell. "Please do," she chuckled, though it turned into a choked sigh when his fingers actually started undoing the button. And at the sound of her zipper going down, she could have come undone right there.

He pulled her jeans down slowly and helped her step out of them. And she thought maybe he'd take the next step and do the same with her underwear, but he opted to use his mouth instead.

With gentle kisses, he traced the hem of the fabric all the way to either side of her waist. And then he looked up at her with curious eyes and shifted his face, pressing his nose right up against where her clit would be. Her hands immediately went to his hair, but he grabbed her wrists again and laid them at her sides. "Do you want me to move this along?" His voice wasn't teasing as much as it was genuine curiosity.

Still, Y/N resisted the urge to tell him yes. "I—I want you to do whatever feels right. Tonight's... about you. What you want."

"Well, what I want is to make you feel good. So, again... Do you want me to move this along?"

Every time his lips moved, they brushed up against where she desperately wanted him. And it was killing her. So, she nodded vigorously. "Yes, please," she whispered.

And with that, Spencer released her hands and used his fingers to gently rub her over the fabric. The contact made her shiver visibly, and he took that as a good sign. So he wasted no more time and replaced his fingers with his tongue, fluttering his eyes closed at the taste of her. And he knew that once the thin fabric was gone it would be stronger, but even then he was thoroughly wrecked.

He kept lapping his tongue over her, feeling her panties get wetter with ever second, and he only finally removed them when she started grinding her hips closer to his face, desperate for more.

When he did finally bring his tongue to fully taste her for the first time, they both let out the filthiest sounds, months and months of build-up starting to come to a head. He tasted her like he would an ice cream cone, and for the first few moments his eyes remained closed, all his focus on this brand new sensation. But he wanted nothing more than to see her react to him. So he opened his eyes and continued his ministrations, pupils blowing wide at the sight of her above him.

She was panting, her mouth hung open and her tongue just barely peeking out over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained shut, though Spencer could tell she was struggling to open them. With a tentative flick of his tongue over her clit, he took notice of the little gasp she made, and he knew he'd found it. So he repeated his action, providing small kitten licks to her clit as she picked up her breathing and clenched her hands at her sides.

He picked up the pace then, taking note of every little thing that made her cry out or jump with pleasure until she was clutching his hair. He was sucking on her clit now, his middle finger gently sliding in and out of her when she spoke.

"Oh, fuck, keep doing that. I'm... I'm almost..."

He felt her tighten around his finger as she started careening off the edge, and he did his best to keep his eyes on her face, because it had practically been haunting him, wondering what it would be like to see her come undone at his mercy.

To say it was better than he could have ever dreamed was a severe understatement.

Y/N's head leaned back against the door, her chin jutted out so he could see the beautiful contours of her chin and neck. He saw her throat contract as she moaned out his name, saw her chest heave as she struggled to catch her breath, and best of all, he felt her flutter around his finger and mouth. And if that was high inducing, he couldn't wait to feel wat it would be like to replace them with something else.

The mere thought had him trembling.

He pulled back when she huffed out an over-stimulated, "Okay, please, please stop, oh..."

Though it could just as easily have been a painful sentiment, the hungry, dazed look in her eye suggested otherwise.

Spencer stood up and brought his finger to his mouth, still caught up in her taste before she ripped his wrist away and kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair and moaning into his mouth.

Before he could get lost in it, though, she pulled away and nodded. "Okay. I think you're wearing too many clothes."

He tilted his head down in a little flush, and with the help of Y/N, his shirt peeled away from his body and joined her pants and underwear on the floor.

Y/N mirrored his actions, kissing gently down his jaw, neck, and then down his torso. Her hands wandered his bare back as she sunk to her knees. But when her hands moved to his belt, he stopped her.

"W—wait."

She peeled her hands away and looked up at him. "Are you okay? Do you want to slow down?"

He visibly swallowed, and she could read that look on his face that he got whenever he was embarrassed to tell her something. "N—no, I... I want... the opposite, actually."

"I don't follow..."

"Well, I know that... if you return the favor, I won't last very long, a—and I... I don't want to wait anymore."

Y/N smiled, standing again and bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders. "So you're saying you... want me to move this along?"

Spencer smiled at her recollection of his words. "Yes, please."

They travelled to the bed then, Y/N taking off her shirt and bra when they got there, and leaving her completely bare to him. She sat down and reached for his belt, looking up at him as he stood.

"I'm clean and on birth control, do you still want to use a condom? I have some in my table drawer."

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "As long as you're sure."

Y/N undid his belt quickly and threw it to the side, making work of his button and zipper with a smile. "Oh I'm so sure..."

The way she said it made his dick twitch, images running through his mind of how it would look seeing her filled and dripping with—

Her hand was palming him through his underwear now, and it was all he could think about. He had already been hard before, but now it was tilting on the precipice of painful pleasure. So he stopped her, taking a deep breath.

"Lay down?"

"However you want me," Y/N answered, positioning herself on the bed so she was leaning back, her head nicely laid out on the pillows.

Spencer swallowed and removed his underwear before climbing on the bed and kneeling over her. Her legs were already wide, feet flat on either side of him as he positioned himself and got ready.

She reached out and gently grabbed his forearm, a gentle smile on her face. "You ready?"

"Mhm," he answered with a curt nod, bringing himself forward to run the head of his dick through her wetness. They both sighed at the feeling, and Spencer knew he was in trouble.

It was finally happening, he was getting another chance to have sex with her, and if he didn't last long again, he was going to—

"I love you," Y/N said reassuringly, rubbing circles into the hand that rested on the inside of her thigh.

He looked into her eyes and saw that love radiating from them. It warmed his insides and gave him the confidence he needed to finally, slowly push into her as he whispered, "I love you, too."

Once he was fully sheathed inside her, he let out a large breath, leaning down to brace his arms on either side of her head. The pressure of her clenched around him was overwhelming in the best way possible, and he never wanted to move.

But he had to.

She stroked his hair, pressing soft kisses all over his face, and whispered, "I love you."

With those three words, Spencer had the courage to pull back and then forward again, testing the waters and more accurately, his limits. He picked up a slow pace that burned him from the inside out, every muscle and vein in his body on fire with the knowledge that he was finally, properly making love to the woman he was pretty sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

But he was holding back. Y/N could tell. He glided through her with ease, sure, but his eyes were squeezed shut like he was concentrating, like he was pacing himself and trying to hold on to this feeling.

She moved her hands down to his back and lightly ran her fingernails over the skin, feeling him tremble under her touch.

"You feel so good, Spence," she whispered. "So perfect for me..."

The words made his hips stutter just a little, and Y/N knew then what the hesitation was.

He wanted to go faster.

So she moved her fingers lower, cupping his ass and scratching featherlight circles into the skin as she moaned. "You like when I talk to you, baby? Does hearing my voice help you out?"

Spencer choked out a groan as he opened his eyes and saw how feral she looked. Her pupils were blown wide, her mouth was pouted cutely, and she smiled as soon as she saw him bite his lip.

"You wanna go faster?" she cooed, digging her fingernails a little harder into the flesh of his ass. "Hmm?"

"F—fuck, Y/N... I..."

"You fuck me however you need to, baby. Don't hold back. Just let it all out."

He groaned out then, his hips picking up speed. She felt the relief and the tension rolling off his body as he finally gave into his urges, and it was just about the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"That's it, baby... Don't stop... Give it to me, let me feel you..."

He leaned down and kissed her then, pumping into her harder and harder with every second. She moaned out against his mouth, swallowing all his breaths and grunts. Meanwhile her fingers gripped his ass harder, relishing in the feeling of his muscles as they aided in fucking her.

His mouth pulled away as he shoved his face into her neck, and she sighed. "You're doing so good, baby. Fuck... " His hips kept moving, and she clenched around him hard, hoping to gauge his reaction.

Sure enough, he groaned against her neck and canted his hips harder. Every thrust forward now was so deep he hit her g-spot, and the sensation made her sigh with a smile. "That's fucking right, baby... Just like that, don't stop, don't stop. You fe—el so... ohhh."

Her words lit this fire in him that was impossible to put out. His body was hers for the taking, and so he'd give her everything he had. Which is why he picked up the pace and fucked into her as hard as he could, dangerously close to finishing.

"Fuck, Spence, I'm gonna... —na..."

Y/n's moans turned into a quiet scream as she came, clenching tightly around his dick and digging her fingernails into his ass. Her eyes squeezed shut with the swirling patterns of fireworks exploding behind them, meanwhile he twitched inside of her and lost it at last. As she came down, she helped him hold himself there, deep inside her as his cum spilled over in warm increments. They both moaned out at the feeling, all their tension easing and dissipating.

By the end, all that was left between the both of them was a thin sheen of sweat and murmured promises of "I love you."

They could have fallen asleep right there. Y/N's hands slid up his backside, over his arms, and then to the back of his head, combing gently through his disheveled hair as he pressed loving kisses to the patch of skin where her neck met her collarbone. He was still inside her, unwilling to leave the warmth she provided, and she did nothing to object.

"How are you feeling?" she finally asked, opening her eyes.

Spencer tilted his head up to look at her, his heart once again swelling at the adoring look in her eyes. "I'm great."

She laughed, and he laughed with her. And they were silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

"So, uh... What we just did is what we're counting as our real first time together, right? Like, the other time doesn't count?"

Y/N laughed again, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "If you want to count this as our first time, then yes. I'd be more than happy to agree with you."

"Good. This was much better."

Even though she would never hold their first first time together against him, she was inclined to agree.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @s1utformgg @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud

TAGS NOT WORKING: @takeyourleap-of-faith @emilyprentisslittlewhore

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!

#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut

719 notes · View notes

imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

Rules & Roses

“you’re late”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, mention of death. Pretty sure that’s it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 2046

“You’re late,” I said to him while grinning. He shook his head, trying to stop himself from laughing so that he could focus on running up to me.

Aaron Christopher Hotchner was his name. Though I had learned a lot about him since we officially started talking on that cold Tuesday morning, I still thought of him as that six foot Nordic God. He hated that nickname, though. No matter how many times I used it, he never gave in, but I liked teasing him with it. Only two weeks had passed since we first started talking, and yet it seemed like we knew each other a lifetime. More than that, actually. My worries of talking to a stranger faded quickly the more we passed each other on the trail, then would chat as we walked to our cars. It was a nice, unspoken ritual we had. But it always started like this. No matter if it was warm or cold, sunny or cloudy, busy or quiet, we met at that park bench at the top of the U-turn. Usually, we ran beside each other, or he would be waiting up for me. This time, I was waiting on him. That wasn’t usual.

“How am I late?” he asked.

I looked at my watch. “It’s 7:17.”

“So?”

“You never reach the bench later than 7:15.”

Aaron smiled and put his hands on his hips to help him catch his breath. “Who’s stalking who now?”

“I never said you stalked me. Those are your own words.”

“Ha. Ha.” He panted for another second. “My son woke up late, so I got here late.”

I froze. During our little conversations here and there, he had never once mentioned anything about having a family. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, he seemed more than happy to flirt with me, and he never, ever said anything about having a son. This whole time, I thought he was an available man. I would have never flirted with him if I knew that he was taken, that he had other promises and responsibilities besides meeting me, practically a stranger, in the park every morning. Of course someone like him would have been snatched up by someone else. Of course the one person I saw myself potentially getting involved with since moving to D.C. was the one person I couldn’t have. My fucking luck, right? I was so stupid. How did I not see it before? Why did I get involved in all of this in the first place? I promised myself I wouldn’t talk to a stranger, and I broke that promise for him. I promised that I wouldn’t let my desperate urge for sex and love blind my ability to read social queues and dictate what was good and bad for me— and I fucking broke that promise. I saw him— I felt his hands on my hips— and everything I had learned from past experiences flew out the window. For a moment, for a blissful, wonderful moment, I forgot about Lauren because I had all of my focus on the Nordic God. A Nordic God that was taken. How fucking ridiculous.

Aaron sat down next to me. I scooted away, and he immediately noticed. A couple of days ago, I asked him what his job was at the FBI, and he told me that he studied the behavior of serial killers in order to find them. When he cracked a joke that his ability to “profile” serial killers was a curse that affected every aspect of his life, I asked him if he could profile me. Profiling was putting together all of the behaviors he spotted in someone in order to tell what kind of person they were, are, and could potentially be. Aaron laughed. He said that he had already profiled me the day we met. “Your eyes were on my friend the entire time,” he said. “Her name’s Emily, by the way.” So, that had confirmed that it wasn’t Lauren I saw. Though I was somewhat relieved, I was also disappointed, and Aaron noticed. He asked me why I was staring at her, and I simply dodged a real answer by telling him that I thought she was someone else. His profiling skills seemed to tell him I was lying. Despite the fact that he knew I wasn’t telling the truth, he didn’t pry. He never did. When I moved away from him on the bench, however, and he noticed, that was the first time I ever heard him get serious with me.

“What is it?” he asked me quietly and sincerely. I shook my head. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Why…” I hesitated for a beat. “Why would you keep flirting with me if—”

“My wife died years ago, Y/N. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

If I wasn’t embarrassed before, I was as red as a fucking tomato, and this time for all the wrong reasons. Originally, I had simply assumed that him having a son meant that he was still with someone. My first mistake. Then, I thought that it all meant that he didn’t like me, that he had been stringing me around for no reason, that maybe I was seeing between the lines. My second mistake. Now, I was embarrassed because I had made a complete fool of myself by tensing up at the thought of him having a kid— something I really didn’t mind, actually— and then I admitted that I thought he was flirting, all while practically pushing him away. I fucked this all up. Why was it that he made me trip over my tongue like this? I mean, he was always in my head since that first day we met and I felt his hands on my hips; and I found myself wanting to spend more time with him and impressing him. All of that had just been flushed down the drain. Any chance I had to keep being this happy and distracted had just disappeared because I had been stupid.

“I’m sorry.” I did a lot of compulsive apologizing around him. Because he made me trip over my own tongue, I always happened to say the wrong thing, so I constantly needed to apologize, which I could tell he found adorable, but I found it to be humiliating. “I didn’t mean to force that out of you.”

“It’s okay. It’s been so long, and I’ve had to tell so many people; I’m neutral about it these days.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“If you say sorry one more time, I’m going to start feeling bad.”

“Sorr—” I caught myself before laughing. “That’s going to be a bad habit to break.”

“All habits are hard to break.” He shrugged, leaned back, and looked forward to make the feeling between us casual again. “New rule, no more apologizing.”

Part of getting to know each other was making rules in order to make ourselves comfortable. I didn’t pry about his work, he didn’t ask me any more about his friend Emily. I didn’t stare below his belt (a personal rule I made for myself that I never disclosed to him), and he didn’t stare too long at my breasts when I would wear a low cut or tight shirt (a rule he made for himself that went unsaid). The rules would come up occasionally, but only when we were sitting on that park bench surrounded by roses. The parking lot, however, was fair game. Because that was the last time we would get to see each other until the next day, which was never guaranteed since he traveled so much— just like Lauren always did— we both got to break our staring rules until we would get into our separate cars. This new rule about apologizing didn’t seem like just a roses rule, though. If I had to guess, Aaron was going to keep an eye on me to make sure I wouldn’t break this new rule.

I nodded. “Okay, fine. But, no more being late,” I said. He also nodded. “And, I need a 6AM warning every time you won’t be here.”

Aaron looked at me. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Phone,” I demanded while holding out my hand. Aaron urgently dug into his pocket, racing to grab his phone before I could change my mind about giving him my number. He was too chicken shit to ask for it, so I didn’t mind taking that first step for him. Afterall, it was the most I could do since I totally messed up by getting uptight about his son. Speaking of which, when I turned Aaron’s phone on, I saw a picture of him holding his son, both of them smiling ear to ear after what looked like a victory after one of his son’s soccer games. I felt myself melting. “He’s adorable.” He had blonde hair, which wasn’t like his dad at all, but the brown eyes, lips, and nose were all a mirror image of Aaron.

“His name’s Jack.”

“How old is he?”

“Nine.”

I smiled at him before looking back down to unlock his phone and put my information into the Contacts app. When I was done, I turned it off and handed it back to him. “There. Now you can text me at 6AM every time you know you’re not going to be here.”

“And what about… other than 6AM?” He was biting his lip again. I always knew that he was flirting with me when he would bite his lip like that. He was the professional profiler, yet he couldn’t have been more obvious. One would think that he knew how to hide his tells better than that, but he really seemed to suck at it. “Can I call you tonight, maybe?”

“For what?”

He hadn’t anticipated that I would nudge him back with a question. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. I giggled. “Is it too late to take my rule back so that I can say sorry for being too forward?”

“Yeah. It is. Sometimes it’s okay to be forward.” I stood from the bench, giving him the idea that it was time to go. He stood, too, taking my lead because he seemed like a lost puppy that needed to be told what to do. “I get off work at seven. You can call me for whatever it is you have on your mind any time after that.” I jumped on my toes to warm myself up, also testing to see just how long he could keep his eyes on mine and not one any other part of me that was a little more… distracting. “I’ll race you to the parking lot.”

“What happens if you win?”

“Who said there needs to be prizes?”

“The new rule I just made,” he said like it was a tease.

I squinted at him. “You can’t just make rules up for your benefit, Aaron.”

“Well, if you win, Y/N, I’ll stop making up random rules.”

“And if you win?”

I saw his answer coming from a mile away, but I still felt myself smiling when he said, “I take you out for dinner after our call tonight.”

“Deal.”

Aaron wasn’t prepared at all yet, but that didn’t stop me from beginning my dash down the path. Though I was inevitably going to let him win, I still had to put up somewhat of a fight to make his win believable. Aaron seemed to notice immediately. Before I could make it very far, he was already speeding past me, intent on winning so that he could take me to dinner. Dummy. I wasn’t trying very hard to win. He didn’t seem to notice, though,even as we reached the parking lot where he claimed his victory. He slowed to a stop. As I caught up, he turned around and smiled.

“You’re late,” he teased me.

I rolled my eyes. “Pick me up at eight.” I immediately started making my way towards my car, which gave Aaron the chance to break his rule so that he could stare at me for a little longer than he was supposed to. “And don’t be late!” I called back to him.

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction

82 notes · View notes

kiribaku-queen · 4 years

Text

Secret Hero [3/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Angst, Drama, AU

Word Count: 4K

A/N: I can say I’m pretty proud of this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it! I would love to know your thoughts and let me know if you want to be put on the tag list!

Summary: After becoming the number 2 hero, Bakugou accomplished everything he ever wanted. He beat Deku in a few matches, even if he wasn’t the number 1 hero. He got all the fame, beat countless villains, was acknowledged by all his friends and family. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wasn’t happy. Bakugou realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. So he left the life of a hero and decided to hide to live the rest of his life as a normal person.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

It’s been a few weeks since Bakugou settled in town. He got adjusted to his new apartment and even his new job as a construction worker. He had no need to use his quirk, but he could still get a good exercise in to warm up his muscles. The real action happens late at night in the streets. Even though he gave up hero work, he decided to keep an eye on the town. There may not be many crimes but when they do happen, he was there to prevent them. This town was peaceful and safe and he was going to keep it that way.

Bakugou started bumping into you around town more often. Of course, you guys would stop and chat. A little too long, some people might say. With the help of you, he got adjusted to a new environment. You showed him your favorite restaurants, the places to shop at, both expensive and ones that have the best deals. You showed him the arcades, the theatres, the parties, the to-go places that he has to go. These were the perfect times to just hang out with each other and get to know one another.

Day by day, the more you were with him, the more you started to fall for him. It was everything about him. His looks. His smile. His laugh. The intrigued look on his face when you show him something new. Or when he’s so concentrated on small, common tasks. It’s like he’s never done them before. And the way he’s so protective over everything. If you trip, even the slightest fall, he’s ready to catch you. That brings a blush straight to your cheeks. You’ve never been treated like this by a boy before so all this is new. But you liked it a lot. Also his body, but no one has to know about that.

It’s not news to your friends that you had a crush on the new guy in town. He was literally all you talked about. Who can blame you? A heart throb at its finest. Your friends urged you to ask him out on a few dates, but you were too shy to. And even if you tried, you chickened out every time. Sure, you guys were spending an absurd amount of time together, but who says that he likes you back?

“He’s totally flirting with you!” one of your friends exclaims.

“Yeah! It can’t hurt to try! And if he says no… well. That kind of sucks.” Your other friend just shrugged their shoulder.

“Oh my god, you are not helping!” you covered your face with a pillow. You thought that having a girls night and talking about your boy problems was going to help you, but this was not what you were expecting.

“What if you get into a relationship and he’s a slob?” another one of your friends gave a what-if scenario, making everyone else scream in laughter. And you’re just sitting there, listening to their nonsense.

“Even worse! What if he’s a serial killer and you’re his next victim!”

“Now you really make me not want to be a relationship anymore,” you say, deflated. Having not been in a relationship before, the fears of what could unfold definitely were scaring. But those were all what-ifs. And pretty unlikely scenarios as well. But, there’s always that one small percent that you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. For all you know, he could be keeping a secret from you.

“Okay, okay girls. We all know the real reason why you don’t want to ask him out,” one of your friends announces and turns to give you a look. The way you looked up at your friend was like a pouting puppy who did something wrong. All your friends turned to you. You could feel all their eyes, staring burning holes into your skin. You wanted to hide but they could hunt you down in an instant like a pack of wolves.

“I didn’t know this was an intervention,” you sigh.

“It’s your biggest insecurity since like, forever! You’ll know if he’s the one if he meets her,” they say but that just makes your heart drop. You didn’t want to think about what would happen, all the scenarios you could imagine if they did meet.

“You know what’s going to happen. Cause it always happens,” you sigh, dejected and feeling totally defeated already. Your friends felt bad for you. No matter what they did or say, they couldn’t change your mind on one thing.

“Well even if it does happen, then you’ll know he’s not the one for you. And you haven’t fallen too deep for him yet so you can just kick him on the side of the road!” you friend suggested, clapping her hands like it was such a genius idea. The rest of the group seemed to agree with her. You really didn’t want to do it, but you knew that he was going to meet her sooner or later.

“How do I even bring it up though?” you asked.

“You don’t even have to tell him! You know what, this is perfect. Invite him to lunch tomorrow to meet us. It’ll be a group thing so it’s subtle,” that also got everyone’s agreeance. Yeah, it wasn’t a bad idea at all. Maybe it was too soon?

Too late for that thought. You were already waiting for Bakugou to show up at your meeting spot. The girls texted you saying that Momo and them were already at the restaurant. Now only you and Bakugou had to show up.

“(y/n)!” you heard that familiar voice. You turned and saw Bakugou running up to you. When he caught up to you, he was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. “Sorry I’m late. Did you wait long?” he asked and you just shook your head.

“Not long at all! Shall we go?” you ask and you lead the way.

“What made you want to introduce me to your friends?” Bakugou asked suddenly. It was so sudden that you were scrambling to find an excuse.

“Uhm, they just heard so much about you and they really wanted to meet you-”

“Oh, so you talk about me, huh?” he decided to tease you. And it really got to you because your face got so hot, anyone could see that someone was wrong.

“No, it’s not like that!” you tried denying. Your reactions get him every time. Bakugou bursts out laughing and he ruffles your hair.

“I’m just kidding. Should we go in now?” he asks. In no time, you guys were in front of the restaurant. Wow, time passed by so fast. Your heart was thumping in your heart. It was time to face the real challenge: introducing him to your cousin.

You both entered the restaurant and you were flooded with greetings and hugs. Each friend came up to you to hug you and introduce themselves to the handsome man you brought. Bakugou was a gentleman, but you never knew how much of a gentleman was. And he wasn’t as awkward as you thought he was going to be. As he introduces himself to each friend, he doesn’t shake their hand or go in for a hug like most people. Instead, he takes each friend’s hand and lands a chaste kiss on their hand. That made all the women go wild. He knew what he was doing. But by the time it go to Momo, you watched their interaction closely.

“I’m Momo,” she introduces herself, sticking out her hand for him to take. He takes it without a hesitation and places a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

“Bakugou,” he introduces himself, eye contact never breaking until they both sit down. Despite him doing the same thing to each person there, something about their interaction didn’t sit well with you. Your eyes glanced at your cousin, and there it was. She had the look in her eyes. The look. She had her eyes on him. You lost.

Lunch was horrendous. After that whole introduction fiasco, you completely lost your appetite. Your mood was down. You honestly just wanted to go home. Momo wouldn’t take her eyes off of Bakugou. And from the corner of your eye, you could see him glancing back at her. But it was never for too long. You felt dejected but tried your best not to show it. The whole table was laughing and was having a good time. If you brought the mood down, you could cry of embarrassment. That was the one scenario you didn’t want to happen, so you fake it until you make it.

Momo and Bakugou look like they’re having a good time. Laughter was being exchange and she was definitely flirting. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting back or just being nice. You turned to the other side of the table where your friends were, but they were too busy in their own conversation to notice what you were witnessing. You looked to the floor, food barely touched. Is this the end? Will you ever find love at this point? Should you move? Rebel against your parents more? Your thoughts were interrupted by a small nudge. Looking to the side, Bakugou was looking at you, concerned.

“You okay?” he asks. Your heart aches. You’re fully convinced that he’s asking out of courtesy because you guys are friends and not because he likes you. You give him a weak smile and a nod, but nothing else. Bakugou frowns at your response but doesn’t press further.

“Ready to go?” your friend announces. Everyone seemed to finish their food and the bill was already paid for. You didn’t realize you spaced out that much. Your group headed out the restaurant, huddled outside and exchanged their goodbyes.

“Was it a no?” your friends asks you as she pulls you in for a goodbye hug. With deep regret, you nod your head and your friend juts out her lower lip. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head. What did she have to say sorry for? This was your problem. And you got your hope up too high.

“I’ll see you later?” you ask and she nods her head. You look at everyone else, briefly glancing at Bakugou and Momo’s direction.

“Bye guys!” you wave and continue on your way. You shove your hands deep in your pockets, still looking down at the ground. Time for deep thoughts and feeling bad about yourself. Something you got strangely good at.

“Wait,” someone stopped you, grabbing your elbow and turning you around. Bakugou? He didn’t look too happy. “Let me walk you home.” He offers. You frown and turn to the rest of the group. Momo was already walking away so you couldn’t see her face. Why was he here instead of over there?

“But-” you tried to refuse but he cut you off.

“Please.” He says firmly. With that, you could not not say no.

The way back to your apartment was filled with silence and not like the usual conversation driven atmosphere. You knew Bakugou wanted to say something but you were going to wait until he spoke up. You arrived at the foot of your apartment and he has yet to say anything. Awkward.

“Thanks for walking me home!” you turn to him with the brightest and fakest smile you could muster. Please fall for it, you think to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” he avoids your comment to ask.

“What do you mean?” you ask back, acting confused.

“You didn’t talk at all. You barely touched your food. You were fine earlier. Did something happen?” he asked, concern written all over his face.

“I…” you started. You couldn’t tell him the truth. “I just get into moods. Sorry you had to see that.” you say on the spot.

“Let’s fix that then.” He offers. But you had no idea what he was talking about. Before you could ask, Bakugou took your hand in his and led you up to your apartment. You spent the whole rest of the day letting him cheer you up. He distracted you by watching your favorite TV shows, baking brownies, talking. And soon, you guys were eating Chinese takeout and drinking wine. Usually, it takes a lot for you to get out of this mood. But with him, he made it so easy. You were smiling and acting like yourself in no time.

It was a fun time. Just drinking the night away and talking your asses off. Anything and everything. Time must have slipped past you because it was already so late out, but you were soooo tipsy, to say the least. Bakugou looked fine. Jealous. You didn’t like being a lightweight because a few glasses could make you pass out and the fun is over. You didn’t want the fun to be over. You wanted to be with him.

You guys were joking around, having yet another glass of wine, when Bakugou took your phone out of your hands to look through your camera roll.

“What do we have here?” he teased, seeing the selfies you took recently.

“Give it back!” you demanded. But Bakugou completely ignored you and kept scrolling through your hundreds of pictures.

“Bakugou Katsuki!” you whined, reaching for your phone. He was quick to extend his hand so that your phone was out of your reach. His arm was so long and yours was so short, it was impossible to retrieved your phone unless you reached across him. Being the drunk ass you were, you did just that. Your hand rested nicely on top of his chest as you reached over to grab your phone. But because you were so drunk, you slipped and fell deeper into his arms. He caught you, wrapped his muscular arms around your waist. Your faces were just inches apart, both of you staring into each other’s eyes. His eyes then look down towards the lower end of your face and back up to your eyes. You caught that. What does that mean? Does that mean what you think it means? Was he going to kiss you? Your mind was telling you to push him away because you didn’t want to assume. But god was your body telling you something different. Your eyes also started traveling lower, the hand that was on his chest tugged on his shirt. He was leaning in closer and closer. His arms that were around your waist got tighter and brought your body closer to his until it was completely flushed. He tilted his head, his breath just barely tickling your lips. His lips were so close, but he didn’t connect them just yet. He was teasing you. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. You felt like you were going crazy. Oh, how much you wanted to take control, grab his face and smash your lips together in a hungry kiss. But you stopped yourself. If Bakugou wanted to kiss you, he would do it. You weren’t going to ruin your first kiss just because of your lust for him.

Bakugou teased you to no end. The way your eyes were fluttering with lust and how your lips were parted just for him, waiting to be kissed by him was riling him up. He smirked. You had enough teasing for tonight. With a quick movement of his neck, he reached up steal a light, passionate kiss.

His lips were soft. His aroma filled your senses. Your head was filled with him. This. Was the perfect first kiss. It was sweet. It was passionate. It was emotional. It was everything you dreamed of and more. Your lips disconnected but Bakugou wasn’t done. And neither were you. You kissed again and again and again. Your hands reached the back of his neck while his stayed on your waist and lower back. Before things could get anymore heated, a blaring ringtone interrupted you guys. Your lips parted for the final time and you started coming back to your senses. It took you both to realize whose phone was ringing. It was Bakugou’s. You got off him to allow him to fetch his phone.

“Hello?” he answered the phone, but went right back to your previous position, one arm laced around your waist, holding you close to him. This caused your face to heat up immensely. You looked up at Bakugou, his face now frowning. You couldn’t tell what they were talking about but you had a feeling that this night was coming to an end.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, no it’s fine. I’ll be there soon,” he says and hangs up the phone. “It’s my boss. He wants me to fill in a night shift position.” he tells you. You pout a bit but nod your head. It was work. Can’t do anything about that. You both get up and you escort him to your front door. You were a bit disappointed that the atmosphere got ruined but that’s just how life is. When something really good happens, it’s always taken away. He opens the door but before he leaves, he turns to you and gives you apologetic eyes.

“Sorry, I’ll see you later?” he asks. You give him a weak smile and nod. Bakugou could sense your disappointment. And he was going to make it up to you. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you in and catching you off guard. Your hand, again, rests of his chest. He leans in and right when you think he’s about to kiss you again, he smirks. Instead, he leans in close enough until your forehead and noses are touching. Then, he lets go and is on his way. You were left feeling flustered. Slowly, you close to the door. As soon as you heard the door click shut, you screamed into your hands.

“Holy shit, was that real?” you asked yourself. You pinched your cheeks. Yep, that hurt. That all felt like a dream. Where you hallucinating? Did you imagine everything because of how much you drank that night? It all happened so fast and so sudden. It felt surreal. Oh god. What were you two now? What did that kiss mean?

Emotion after emotion, question after question! You were feeling and thinking about so many things at once. You needed to calm down and just ask him in the morning.

Because Bakugou took on another shift, he slept the whole morning, well into the afternoon. But then you got busy so you couldn’t see him for a few days. That gave you plenty of time to think about what happened and plan out what you were going to say to him. You even discussed it with your girls. Man, when you told them what exactly happened, they were screaming and cheering for you. They were so ecstatic that not only did you get your first kiss but it was steamy session!

“He’s totally into you.”

“If you don’t date soon, I’m gonna be so mad.”

“Give me more details!”

Your friends were bombarding you with so many things, you couldn’t keep up! There’s no doubt in your mind now that he has feelings for you. Why else would he kiss you, especially like that? It made your heart race every time you thought about it. Was he going to be your first boyfriend? Finally? And then your mom can back off with the threat of sudden engagements.

It took a while, but both you and Bakugou made time to meet up. You were waiting anxiously for him. You’ve never been in this situation before so you didn’t know how to act. Should you act all flirty and cuddly because you guys kissed? Or should you act normal, like nothing happened? But what if he gets the wrong idea? You were too into your thoughts to see that Bakugou had already arrived. You only noticed when he laid a hand on top of your head.

“Welcome back,” he says as you snap of your daydream. Embarrassing. You both walked into the small coffee shop. The same one you both went to the second time you met each other. You waited at the table while Bakugou brought the coffees.

Gosh, you were so nervous. Do you talk about other things before brining it up? But you were so desperate to know. Fuck it.

“So, about the other night,” you started and that got Bakugou’s attention right away. He rubbed the back of his neck with a shy smile.

“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry,” he apologized. Huh, sorry? “That whole thing was an accident. We were both drunk and it was all in the moment. I’m never usually like that. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” You heard your heart break. But you had to let him know that it didn’t make you uncomfortable! Maybe then, he’ll change his mind.

“What if I told you if I liked it?” you looked at him with pleading eyes.

“I’m actually not looking for a relationship right now,” he said. In truth, he wasn’t. He thought you were petty and interesting and he’s never had so much fun being with someone before. But the thought of being in a relationship… it scared him. Plus, he’s never been in a relationship before. “But I hope we can keep being good friends like before.” Rejected. You were devasted. You felt embarrassed that you had your hopes high. You didn’t want to believe that your dreams were going to be shattered like always. You thought he was going to be different. He just played you.

“Yeah,” you say weakly. It barely came out. Before you realized, your eyes were brimming with tears and threatening to spill. Who cares if he sees, you couldn’t hold them in any longer. You just had to get out of there. “I forgot I had plans. I have to go.” You say and get up. And then there they go. A tear slipped out. That didn’t slip past Bakugou because he was studying your face the moment he sat down.

“(y/n),” he stood up, panicking. He tried to reach out to you but you stopped him.

“Don’t. I’ll see you later,” you say and dismissed yourself without giving him another glance. Bakugou was left in the coffee shop, feeling like the biggest jerk.

You cried for days. You’ve been rejected before but for some reason, this rejection hurt the most. Your girls comforted you, of course. But there was nothing much they could do. You had to get over him yourself. It hurt. A lot. But you wanted to respect his decision so bad. If he wasn’t ready for a relationship then he wasn’t ready. But you also didn’t want to feel like you were being played. If he wasn’t ready then why did he kiss you?

It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him. You couldn’t bring yourself to see him. Just the mere thought of seeing him and then being reminded of your rejection just hurt so much. He tried reaching out to you a few times, but when he noticed that you weren’t responding to him, he stopped. That hurt you too. What did you expect though? You weren’t over him and you couldn’t fake it. So you ignored him. But you were disappointed that he didn’t continue to reach out despite you ignoring him. It happens in the movies all the time. A girl can only dream.

You’re friends urged you to get some fresh air and get out of the house. They swore it was going to make you feel better than being coped up in the apartment. So you did. Shopping always cheered you up. See something you liked or wanted, boom. Bought. If it cheers you up in the moment, then why not? You were walking out of a small boutique store when you saw Bakugou on the side of the road. He was on the other side of the street, waiting in front of a nice, black car. Shit, what was he doing here? Your walk slowed down and turned into a halt. A woman walked out of the store that was behind him. He turned around and the woman linked arms with him. Then he opened the car door for her and they both got in. You recognized that hair. That face. That style.

Bakugou was with Momo.

A/N: Let the drama begin! I’d love to know your thoughts and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @simpforeveryone @bakasbitch18

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

107 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Since I can't write my review in the reblog cause of dumblr...

Not me spending two hours reading a fic while I literally have finals in a week but what can I do when my love posts something this amazing!!

“Are you only with me for sex?”

LMAO! Typical Ransom omg. He'd be so fucking manipulative. I'm surprised he hasn't said I love you in order to just get whatever he wanted from her. I guess it sort of shows that it is scared to him...

“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”

GIRL! Omg this is such a creative take on him. He'd totally be a smut writer. I'd actually pay to read that book and this was so fucking funny😂😂 I'm always in awe of how well you capture him!

“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”

Wow... that was almost... soft? It makes sense in a way.

Honestly, I am a bit disappointed that he didn't actually say it. If they are just words then he shouldn't have any problem doing so or demanding that she say it... you think he will in the future? 🥺🥺I sure do hope so.

“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.

GO JACOB GO!! Lol. He does give off incel serial killer vibes but omg a puppy for Christmas ahhhhhh.

You know I love your writing but I would've rage quit reading this if he had been cheating because it would be the last starw for me. She is literally perfect! Untill you mentioned the bit about her not listening to him and always being the one being spoiled. It made a lot of sense because at least she's getting something out of the relationship, well that and the sex of course 😏😏 God there was so much sex in this and me being the hoe that I am still want more🥵🥵

I think my favorite thing has to be just how fucking dysfunctional and toxic their relationship is, and how it's toxic with his family as well. Because the thrombeys are nothing if not dysfunctional. So for me it feels as if you perfectly captured the essence of all these characters and the chaos the like to cause when they're together.

I personally would literally never want to be in such a relationship, not even for Ransom because it sounds so exhausting! But the reader is just as much of an asshole and they're both perfect for each other❤❤

Will we get a wedding in the future? 👀👀 thank you so much for sharing! My year end is made if you keep dropping these amazing fics😍😍

#fic rec #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader

21 notes · View notes

atc74 · 5 years

Text

Famous Last Words

Square Filled: Bodyguard

Warnings: Angst, mentions of murder, rape, torture, blood, death penalty

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N Padalecki wrote a feature story on serial killer Michael James White after he was arrested and sentenced. Now he wants an audience with Y/N before his execution date. Is that really all there is to it? Maybe, but she won’t be going alone.

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Jensen Ackles, miscellaneous OC’s

Word Count: 3700

Written for: @spnonewordbingo

Beta’d by: @hannahindie who had this to say: “Sigh. I hate you.” You really know how to get me tingly with your feedback and I love you, too.

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIP’s since March. I finally found the inspiration to finish it and I hope you like the finished product. Although this says Jared x Reader, Bodyguard!Jensen (sorta) is heavily featured. You’re welcome. Italics are a flashback.

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

“I just got a call from the warden at the French M. Robertson Unit up in Abilene. It seems inmate Michael James White would like to have a word with you,” Jared gestured for Y/N to take a seat.

Michael James White was convicted the previous year for raping and killing three women in the Dallas area. The story went worldwide and Y/N was the lead reporter for the Austin Herald. Jared hadn’t wanted her on the story at all, and for good reason; the three women he raped and murdered prior to his capture, could have been her sisters. Y/N had talked him into letting her run with the story.

“Jared, this is the story of a lifetime,” she had argued with him. “This is my chance to prove that I can cover more than art shows and county fairs! You’re a journalist, too, Jare. Would you have passed on the story just because someone didn’t want you to write it? Because someone thought it would be too dangerous?”

“No, you’re right. But I don’t have to like it, Y/N,” Jared pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not just a journalist on assignment, here. You’re also my wife. It’s my job to protect you, not just as your husband, but also as your boss.”

“Baby, I know you worry about me, and I love you for it. You told me once that one of the many reasons you fell in love me with was my fierce independence. Now that we’re married, that hasn’t changed and I will always come home to you every night, but I am writing this story, Jare,” she said adamantly. “I have to live my own life, too. I’m not just Jared Padalecki’s wife; I am Y/N Y/L/N Padalecki, award winning journalist and wife extraordinaire.”

“You got the wife extraordinaire right, but award winning?” Jared smirked. “You get that covering art shows and county fairs?”

“I will be after this story,” she corrected him.

“Fine, but I am hiring a bodyguard until this all blows over,” Jared conceded, knowing he never had a chance of talking her out of it.

“His execution date is next week. What do you think he wants to talk about?” Y/N walked around Jared’s desk, leaning up against the edge, next to where he sat in his chair.

“Probably looking for a Hail Mary to save his ass,” Jared looked up at you. He still wasn’t comfortable with her on this story. He thought it was in the past, but the past just came knocking.

“I’ll call the warden and make arrangements,” she acknowledged, sliding across the edge of the desk and in front of her husband. “Jare, it’s going to be okay, baby.”

“Will you please take Jensen with you?” He looked up at her with the puppy dog eyes she fell in love with and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll call him, too,” she smiled. “Now, come ‘ere.” Her hands reached for him and she rolled his chair right in front of her.

Jared wrapped his long arms around her slender waist, his cheek pressed up against her bosom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, cradling him to her. She knew sometimes he needed comfort, the anxiety getting to him.

~*~

“Babe? Jensen’s here. I’m heading out,” Y/N called, walking into the kitchen.

Jared was seated at the island, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked up as she entered the room.

“Please be safe. Please check in with me frequently. Please let Jensen take care of you if needed,” Jared’s voice was soft as he met your eyes.

“I promise all of those things,” she leaned in and kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his. He tasted of coffee and toothpaste. “I love you.”

“Love you,” he echoed and watched her walk away.

~*~

“He just worries, Y/N,” Jensen finally spoke thirty minutes into the drive to Abilene.

“I know he does, Jay, but it’s like he can’t let this go,” Y/N retorted, looking her friend slash bodyguard in the eye. “I am not some delicate flower that’s going to wilt the minute someone looks at me.”

Jensen Ackles had been a star quarterback in high school and college, but an injury sidelined any professional career he had dreamed of pursuing. He had fallen back on his degree in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology, applying to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and becoming the youngest profiler in the history of the Behavioral Sciences Unit. After several years, the job became too draining for him and he retired, returning to Austin.

He was now an independent consultant and contracted with several police departments as well as the Texas Rangers. He also happened to be best friends with her husband and she loved him like a brother. Jared had hired Jensen when Y/N had written the story, staying by her side, until White had been moved to death row at Robertson.

“Y/N, I have studied this man from the minute the first body was found. I worked with the Rangers to bring this guy in and I don’t like it either. White is a narcissistic psychopath; he felt no guilt, no remorse over raping and killing those women. And those are just the ones we were able to pin on him,” Jensen recounted the facts of the case. “We also thought he had a partner, but we couldn’t prove that.”

“I can take care of myself, Jay,” Y/N argued. “You taught me well.”

“I know you can. All I’m saying is this makes me uncomfortable,” Jensen acknowledged.

“He’s getting the needle next week. What more could he have to say at this point?” she challenged.

“Oh plenty. A guy like this? It’s all about him, not the women he killed or the families he destroyed. He truly thinks he is the victim and the world has somehow wronged him,” Jensen continued. “My profile is spot on; he is a narcissistic sociopath with misogynistic tendencies. This meeting he wants? It’s no different, Y/N. That is why he wants to see you. The narcissist in him wants to go out with a bang and he wants you to light the fuse.”

“Jay, I was the only one that listened to him after his arrest. That’s why he requested to see me,” Y/N reasoned. “That’s all.”

“In any case, I am not leaving your side the entire time we’re inside,” Jensen declared. “You are exactly his type. Let’s just call it a gut feeling that something ain’t sitting right with this whole thing.”

“Hello, Mrs. Y/L/N Padalecki,” a short, stocky man with a bolo tie met her at the front gate. “I’m Warden Wilcox. Welcome to French M. Robertson prison.”

“You can call me Y/N. This is my friend, Jensen, who my husband insisted accompany me today,” she smiled as they shook hands.

“Agent Ackles, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I read your profile on White. It’s quite revealing,” Wilcox said enthusiastically.

“It’s not Agent anymore, Warden,” Jensen greeted the man, a tight lipped smile on his face.

“Alrighty then,” the warden clipped. “Let’s get this over with shall we?” He ushered both Y/N and Jensen inside. They entered the first security checkpoint where the guard relieved Jensen of his weapon and secured it in a locker with two keys; one was given to Jensen while the guard kept the other. Y/N’s bag was checked, but all it contained was her wallet, a small recording device, a legal pad and a few pens. They were cleared to enter the facility and were lead through two more checkpoints before they were lead to a meeting room normally reserved for an inmate and their attorney. The warden escorted them through the prison thus far. A total of ten minutes had passed since they left the first checkpoint.

Jensen had observed every face, name badge, camera and door from the moment they entered. The door they stood outside of had one camera pointed at the door itself and he saw at least two more inside the room, covering it from different angles. The red lights were blinking, indicating that all three were in working order, as had the others he had seen as well. That had eased some of the apprehension he had the moment Jared had called, but not enough to make him feel better about the whole thing.

“Jenkins, you don’t let anyone in this room unless it’s me. Mr. Ackles and Mrs. Padalecki are the only ones to be let in and let out. Got that?” Wilcox addressed the guard that was stationed outside the visiting room.

“Yes sir, Warden,” Jenkins nodded in agreement. He was a tall, lithe fellow with thinning reddish brown hair and a sparse mustache covered his upper lip. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person Y/N pictured as a prison guard, but perhaps he had hidden skills that no one but the warden was aware of.

Jensen eyed Jenkins as he had the same thoughts as Y/N. Whatever relief he had felt about the cameras faded away when he came face to face with the guard.

“Please let our visitors in,” the warden spoke loud and clear so the guard in the control room could hear him. A buzzer went off and with a loud click, the door popped open.

Warden Wilcox entered the room, addressing the prisoner. “White, here are the rules. No touching, no standing. Y/N, Mr. Ackles, you will not hand the prisoner anything, nor will you take anything from the prisoner. She is here at your request and you will not disrespect her in any way. Her friend here, Mr. Ackles, is here for her safety and will stay in the room with her at all times. He has my explicit permission to restrain you in any way he deems appropriate should you violate these rules or any he gives you on the spot. Since Y/N Y/L/N Padalecki is not your attorney, video and sound will remain operational. Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, Warden Wilcox. I am the one that asked for an audience with her, why would I do anything that might jeopardize that, sir?” White looked up at the warden, a look on his face somewhere between a smile and a sneer. It did not sit well with Jensen.

The warden turned back to Jensen and Y/N. “Feel free to make your way to my office when you’re finished here.” The warden walked out of the room, shutting it behind him with a click.

“So, why am I here, Mr. White?” Y/N took a seat at the table, holding her bag tightly with both hands, her chair more than a foot from the table.

White glared at Jensen who remained standing, his back to the door, before turning his attention to Y/N. “Y/N, we spent so much time together already. Please, call me Michael.”

Michael James White had been compared to Ted Bundy by numerous news organizations. He was tall, well built and attractive. He had lured his female victims with his charm, then beat them into submission, after which he raped, tortured, and murdered them in cold blood.

Y/N had spent some time with him, yes, but that didn’t mean she liked it. He made her skin crawl and they way he was looking at her now made her feel like his last meal. Maybe, technically, she was. He was being executed in less than seven days and she is the last person he would see from the outside before his death.

Jensen quietly stood in the corner of the room. He had a view of the door, White and Y/N from his vantage point. The feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away, it only continued to gnaw at him as he watched White leer at Y/N like she was a piece of meat.

“Just tell me why I am here,” Y/N demanded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Because, you were the one that told the world my story and now we’re going to finish it. I want everyone to know what has happened to me since I arrived here and how I am going to go down in history with the likes of Bundy and Ridgway. I’ll be a legend.”

“I never agreed to that. I am not going to glorify what you did. Your victims deserve peace, their families deserve peace. We’re done here,” Y/N stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Jensen, can we go?”

Jensen moved from the corner to Y/N’s side, but before he could turn and signal the guard, Jenkins was through the door. He raised his baton and caught Jensen along the side of his head.

Jensen stumbled back before he regained his footing, but it was enough time for Jenkins to restrain Y/N and toss White his keys. He quickly assessed the situation, running through all scenarios in his head as he watched White uncuff himself from the table. None of them ended well.

“White, hold on a minute and think about this. You’re in a maximum security prison with only one ally. Do you really think you’re going to make it out of here alive? Either of you?” Jensen looked between White and Jenkins. He locked his eyes on Y/N and saw the sheer look of terror in them. Jenkins had her arms behind her back and his baton across her throat, pressing just hard enough that she was struggling to breath. He nodded once, hoping she understood he was telling her it was going to be okay. They would be okay.

“You tell me, Mr. Profiler. You’re the reason I’m in here; You’re the one that profiled me, but you missed something, didn’t you?” White sneered as he walked around the table bolted to the floor, coming to a stop just in front of Jensen. “Missed the partner, Mr. Profiler Man.”

Jensen didn’t back down and kept a calm exterior, not letting White see his concern, his fear. “No, I knew you did. We just couldn’t prove it. What I gotta ask though is, why Jenkins? Surely a man with your intelligence, your social stature and good looks didn’t need a partner. Plus, Jenkins is below you. So you tell me why.”

“Honestly, Jenkins was a patsy, still is. I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you. What no one knows, not even Jenkins, is there were twelve other women before the last three. You’ll never find their bodies.” White took another step into Jensen’s personal space.

“What the hell Mike? You told me I was helping you! You gonna hang me out to dry now?” Jenkins was visibly upset and he yelled at White, scaring Y/N even more as the baton pressed harder into her throat.

Just as White turned to Jenkins, alarms sounded throughout the prison. The sound startled the guard just enough that Jensen was able to reach out and pull Y/N behind him, pushing her into the corner out of the way. The force of him pulling her away tore the bag from her body, and it laid at Jensen’s feet.

“You were supposed to turn off the camera’s you imbecile!” White shouted, lunging at Jenkins, knocking him to the floor, his fists connecting with the guards face repeatedly.

Jensen grabbed the bag and rushed to Y/N’s side in the corner. “Are you okay?” His eyes running over her body, checking for any injuries.

“I-I’m okay,” she breathed out, her voice raspy from the pressure against her windpipe. She rubbed at the red skin on her neck.

“Do not move from this spot. You hear me?” Jensen ordered her as he ripped open the lining of her bag and reached his hand inside. He pulled out what appeared to be a white knife and slipped it inside his left boot. “Stay here.” He turned and moved back toward the two men.

Jenkins’ face was covered in blood and so was White as he continued to pummel him, sitting on his body. “White! That’s enough!” Jensen approached the prisoner and that got White’s attention.

He stopped his assault to face Jensen, his eyes wide, crazy and his face covered in blood. “Oh, it’s your turn pretty boy. By the time they get to me, I can add three more to my body count, making it eighteen total.”

“Go ahead and try it. You’ll be dead before you hit the ground,” Jensen challenged him.

“Jensen, no!” Y/N screamed the corner, terrified for her friend, for herself.

Jensen’s mind was still counting down the time. Four minutes. Four minutes since Jenkins burst through the door, grabbing Y/N and releasing White. Two minutes since the alarm sounded. The walk to the room had taken ten minutes. That means it would be a minimum of at least three more minutes until anyone came to assist him. Three minutes was all he needed.

“White, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. The cameras are still rolling and anything you try is being recorded and any action I take against you will be in self defense. Why don’t you just sit back down and let me cuff you to the table and we all go our separate ways, until I come back next week to watch them stick a needle in your arm?” Jensen was purposely taunting White, walking back and forth in front of him, keeping himself between Y/N and danger.

“I’d rather you just kill me now,” White declared, staring Jensen down, his eyes ablaze with fury.

“Just gimme a reason, you fucking dirtbag,” Jensen readied himself for attack, and not a moment too soon.

White pounced like a cougar going after his prey. Jensen was prepared and threw him to the ground, but White didn’t stay down. He got back up and tried again. He stepped closer and closer until he was within arms reach of his would be victim. White reeled back and put all of his weight behind the blow, hitting Jensen square in the jaw.

Reaching out with one hand, he gained purchase on White’s prison jumpsuit and stumbled. Bracing himself on his right leg, he pulled his arm back and landed a jab to his opponent’s kidney. White doubled over, giving Jensen an opening. He brought his right leg up and straight into White’s nose. The crack resounded through the small room, blood gushing from his face.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” White screamed, sidestepping Jensen and making one final attempt at victory, he lunged toward Y/N still huddled in the corner.

Jensen reached down and with one swift move, removed the homemade knife from his boot. He swung upwards, catching the blade in the fleshy meat of White’s inside thigh. The killer dropped to the floor, a crimson puddle forming beneath him.

“This isn’t the way it was supposed to end…” White whispered his last words as he bled out on the prison floor.

“Famous last words, asshole,” Jensen muttered as he shoved the bloodied knife back in his boot.

The door burst open and guards flooded the room, followed by a very out of breath and red-faced warden.

“What in tarnation happened here?” Warden Wilcox shouted as he approached White’s lifeless body.

“If we can move this to your office, Warden, I would be happy to explain it or you can watch the video,” Jensen acknowledged the man before reaching for Y/N.

“Come here, I got you,” Jensen lifted her off the floor and wrapped her in his arms.

Thirty minutes later, Y/N was calmly seated, a strong tumbler of scotch in one hand, courtesy of the warden.

“I can’t believe he was fool enough to try something like that. And on camera no less!” Wilcox was dumbfounded.

“He was a desperate man, Warden. You shouldn’t dare a man that has nothing left to lose, but I did,” Jensen reasoned. “It was the only move I had. Your guards wouldn’t make it before something worse happened. I took a chance and in the end only one life was lost.”

“Wasn’t really a loss now was it, son?” The warden clicked his tongue at the makeshift bodyguard. “I’ll be closing his death as accidental. You won’t be hearing from us again.”

“If I do, it will be too soon,” Jensen stood and shook the warden’s hand.

With Y/N safely in the passenger seat, Jensen put his car in drive, leaving the prison in the dust kicked up by his tires. Y/N hadn’t spoken a word since the incident in the room, but with a pursed lip she turned to Jensen.

“Why was there a knife in my bag and when did you put it there?” She questioned her friend.

“Last night after you went to bed. I stayed a little while and I slipped it in there before I left,” Jensen replied, his eyes never leaving the road.

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because I knew wouldn’t be allowed to keep my gun on me and without knowing all the variables, I wasn’t walking into a room with a convicted killer and my best friend’s wife without some protection. I made the knife myself; it’s animal bone and doesn’t raise any alarms,” Jensen responded passionately.

“You planned this whole thing out, didn't you? You and Jared?” She pushed.

“Y/N, I told you I didn’t like it from the moment you brought it up. I wasn’t going in unprepared. Jared didn’t know about the knife either. I didn’t want him to worry anymore than he already was,” his words were short and clipped.

“I’m sorry I questioned you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, both of you, when you told me this was a bad idea. You saved my life today, Jensen. Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll do anything to protect my family, Y/N,” Jensen reached out and gave her hand a squeeze.

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99blog @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @cherrycokegirls1

Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Jared’s Menagerie: @supernatural-jackles @cameronbraswell @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x

#spnonewordbingo #jared padalecki x reader #Jensen Ackles #Jared x reader #jensen #bodyguard!jensen #jared padalecki angst #jensen ackles angst #serial killer au #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #Supernatural fanfic #wip way too long #glad it's finally done

149 notes · View notes

thestudyfeels · 6 years

Text

How to Get Back Into the Creative Process

A definitive guide by @thestudyfeels

If you follow me (highly recommended, shameless plug), you might’ve noticed that I haven't posted in, well, a million years. The reason being that for about two months I hit an incredible low when it came to making content. I had ZERO creativity and inspiration for quite some time, and if you're a creator, you might recognize that as the best recipe for disaster out there. It's finger lickin' good! (Wow, now I'm dissing KFC, what's this turning into, Wendy's twitter?)

As a rule, I refrain myself from writing posts when I'm dead, since I know without a doubt, that the ennui will automatically transfer into the post. (I sincerely hope that none of my readers are walking zombies with a taste for lifeless posts and aimless rambles. Signed, me.)

But the truth is, my life revolves only around creating and doing crazy shit so I couldn’t deprive myself of this litness for too long. It meant that I had to pick my shit up real quick and get my ass back into the game.

Which is exactly what I did. (This is how you clickbait, youngsters. Watch and learn.)

During my record-breaking low, I couldn't fathom the thought of writing because of the non-existent ideas. I really wanted to, after all I felt empty inside from not doing anything worthwhile, but the lack of inspiration was eating me alive. (Again with the zombie jokes. Sorry, lmao.)

As a creator, such experiences probably sound common. Allow me to assure you that it's okay to be completely blank. It's okay to feel like shit because you love bringing your imagination to life but just can't seem to at the moment. You will get back to grinding again. Never lose faith in that. In fact, I'm specifically writing this guide to help you get back into creating (oh, and to rant about how awesome it is and how I can't get enough of it).

[And yes, this guide works no matter what kind of a creator you are. Bloggers, vloggers, podcasters, writers, illustrators, editors - legit every single one of you who identifies as a creator. I got yo’ back, my Liams and Janes.]

Finally! Now, with the intro done, let's settle down (here's your mint tea and Oreo cookies—no, no burnt popcorn this time #DoItDifferent) and get on with what I promised. Drumroll please, for this marks the starting of a new era where you make a comeback in your field, better than you’ve ever been.

I'm excited to see you win.

Creating is tough. Truly. I find it funny how most people under-appreciate the Arts, because a) hello Monica, wake UP. We're making stuff here. Fresh, crisp, and hot out of our skull-shaped baking pans. Isn't that insane? And b) I doubt any of us would be happy without the sappy rom-com movies and mystery shows to look forward to, or philo books to engulf in a day, or fast-paced vlogs to binge watch or addicting gam- ok, you get my point.

Although most of us are aware of how incredibly demanding and magical the entire process is, we still beat ourselves up for lacking those creative juices at times. Here's a pat from my side and a reminder to NOT do that. Why? Because all creators go through a “dry period” where they feel like they're totally done and are never going to produce anything ever again. In fact, even pop stars routinely take a step back from their fast-paced lifestyles to restore their creative talent - Ed Sheeran being a somewhat recent example (and a great one, have you listened to Divide?). I mean, if they can pause their careers and afford to take a break, then so can you. So stop making excuses and take that day off.

You can also think of it this way: the juices dry up (stop sniggering, ya hoes) because you’ve been using your craft too much, too fast (remember, genius only happens in small quantities) but they start flowing better than ever after a short period of revitalization. So, if you ever find yourself stuck, gazing at the walls in despair, blank docs becoming your serial killers - take that break and don't feel guilty about doing so.

Alrighty, moving onto making that break productive and getting those creative juices back into us. Oh, and Monica? Wipe that stupid smirk off your face.

Now, I don’t know why you started creating (bless you for doing so though), but I do know that there must be something which ignites you and keeps you pushing, even when you hit the lows. This can be anything - nature, music, puppies, art galleries, your loved ones - absolutely anything that makes your soul dance inside and your face flush with pure joy.

During my break, I spent a majority of my time listening to mentors and reading non-fiction. And listening to angelic yet badass music (cough, Billie Eilish, cough). And watching sunsets. And taking pictures of said sunsets. And doing yoga outside while that glamorous sun continued to dip below the horizon. (And trusting all along that I'll get back on track soon.) All things I genuinely love, no effs given. From outside, it seemed like I was on vacay, chilling out; but from the inside, I could feel inspiration and hope trickling back in, my needle moving towards full tank once more.

Point is, DO NOT waste your break loitering about. It's fun to play and party, but the real disaster unfolds when you get back to work and realize you're in the same state again, if not worse. A creative break should centre on getting inspiration back. Figure out what feeds your soul, be it watching other creators, spending time alone, or having meaningful convos, and just do more of it. Re-energize. Rejuvenate. And revive your art.

Now that break’s over and you finally feel more in touch with your creativity, it's time to ease back into it. And I said ‘ease’ because see, the thing is you simply can't force this process. A hint: the more you force yourself for ideas, the more you start relying on your surroundings and other people's work and start losing your own originality. So don't push your creativity.

BUT, good news, if you used that break to rethink your craft, you'll ALWAYS come back with a bunch of ideas, which are much more inventive than anything you've done before. (If you don't, it might mean that you need to extend your break just a teensy bit more.)

Easing means getting back slowly. With consistency. Every single day, without fail, spend some time creating in small chunks. And you CAN'T say “fuck it” or ignore it and purposely start a new show on Netflix after closing that blank doc again in the next tab because you didn’t wanna face the guilt. That's a rule. Obviously, once you get comfortable with the process, increase your time and increase the number of “create” blocks.

This is your life, so don't you dare tell me you're tired or sad or can't make stuff, because I know you can. I've seen you produce magic before and I know you have it in you to create lit fireworks this time as well.

… And soon enough, you'll find yourself happier than ever, for you'll be creating again. I hope you'll feel proud of yourself, because I, for sure, will be.

PS: let's also talk about me finishing this post. This is the first one after my break, HOHOHO! *wiggles eyebrow, which doesn't exist* The girl's back at it again as you see, and I hope you're just getting started too.

We're in this together.

Want to read more? Kay, plopping down some related posts right away —

Read my last post: Biggest Takeaways from The Alchemist (book review, sorta?)

Mentioned: Ed Sheeran’s creative break of almost a year

Rebecca Green and her creative low (you see, it happens to everyone!)

An update chit-chat post by Rebecca on the burnout (if you want the entire story)

Interview Two: motivation to get going (talks about how inspiration comes from inside - me recommending ways to regain your creative energy won’t help for inspiration is different for everyone)

+ Want to request a blog post? Leave your request in my ask box!

Well, that’s a wrap! I post new articles twice a week, on every Sunday and Thursday, so you can follow me if you are into killing the game & conquering life. I’ll do my best to help you in the tough yet amazing journey called life. ✧

If you want to go through my blog, I suggest picking your choice of post from my masterpost list! Or, if you want to read something insightful on your cozy afternoon while chilling under blankets, I recommend reading one of my interviews. Feeling spoilt for choices? Here’s another! If you want to implement the ideas I share in my masterposts by taking action, take on one of my challenges!

I hope you are well; stay strong and conquer life, my conqueror.

— Nandini (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

291 notes · View notes

hyu-ck · 6 years

Text

*It had been months since what you now referred to as ‘The Mall Incident’, but Hyuck’s hunger for discovery knew no bounds, and your crush was a relentless pull towards making mistakes- this time in San Fransico.

Characters: Mark, Donghycuk (Haechan), Reader

Relationship: Donghyuck/Reader

Genre: Fluff // Supernatural // Scooby Doo Gang but It’s Just Mark and Hyuck

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Short Illusions to Assault

a continuation of “it’s two am”; don’t worry! you can still read this without reading it first!

“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” Donghyuck bursts through your cracked door, the spring hinges squeaking in protest like a banshee in purgatory. Your fork clatters to the counter you were sitting on, wide-eyes piercing Mark’s own startled expression.

“Jesus christ, Hyuck! Knock!” You stutter, turning and crossing your legs so that you could see him. He was halfway out of breath, perspiration settled on his brow courtesy of the August weather and his jacket loosely tied around his waist. He looked like he had rolled out of bed and straight onto his bike. Still, it made your throat catch.

“The door was open,” he said, practically sliding across the room and picking up the fork you had just dropped to stab into the container of watermelon you and Mark had been devouring.

“It was barely cracked,” you said, furrowing your brow into a pout before stealing your fork back from his hand.

“A suggestion of entrance in my book,” Hyuck muttered, sighing dramatically as he walked around the island for his own damn fork.

“Your book is both wrong and not applicable at my house,” you argued back, ignoring Mark’s shaking head as he busied himself with the red fruit.

“It was urgent.”

“It takes less than three second to knock on that door.”

“Three seconds wasted without seeing your face,” he batted his lashes at you insincerely, and you scoff, turning away from him to hide the pink tinting of your cheeks and nose.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Really?” he smirked, ducking towards your face so that he could press his fingertips to your warm cheeks, “Then what’s the cause of this?”

“Frustration.”

“Romantic?” Mark grumbled mockingly under his breath, forcing you and Hyuck to turn towards him, now sporting matching expressions of embarrassed teen flirtation.

Clearing your throat, you stab aggressively into a cube of watermelon. “What is it that we ‘won’t believe’, Hyuck.”

“Vampires.”

“That much I could’ve told you without the dramatic entrance,” you snort.

“No- listen,” Hyuck said, absently leaving his hand on the surface of your crossed knee, “There’s been a lot of chatter on the forums-”

Cue laugh from you and piqued interest from Mark.

“-and apparently this club up towards San Fran has been having some, well, strange occurances. Multiple dead bodies around the area, each with twin pin-pricks on their necks and an overwhelming scent of cocktails and club sweat.”

“How many bodies?” Mark asked, a shock of worry morphing his usually bright countenance.

“Four and counting.”

“That’s sounds less supernatural and more super serial,” you tell them, shaking your head, “We aren’t detectives, guys, leave the murders to the authorities.”

“Well that’s just it- the local police are totally stumped,” Hyuck continues with revier, “And if we can go up there for a night and get evidence, well, we can both prove that vampires exist and catch a killer.”

“Christ, Hyuck, maybe I don’t want to play Nancy Drew,” you roll your eyes, sliding off the countertop and feeling your toes spark against the cold tile.

“I promise no sweater vests will be involved,” he said, placing his hand across his chest.

“I doubt you could get in a club wearing a yellow sweater vest anyways, Y/N,” Mark added- rather unhelpfully.

“You both can’t seriously be considering this,” you splutter, crossing your arms over your chest and ignoring the hopeful puppy dog eyes they were both shooting you.

“Well, I didn’t bike here for nothing.”

“C’mon, Y/N- vampires.”

“Firstly, you’re both delusional, secondly, Mark, I’m never taking up your dares or picking up stray ghost hunters again, and thirdly-”

“Thirdly?” Hyuck prompted with a snort, one you glared at with discontent.

“Yes, thirdly, I’m not even old enough to get into a club yet.”

“That’s not a problem,” Hyuck dismissed you with a wave of his tan hand.

“Oh, well if that’s the case lets do a drug run and sell a few semi-auto weapons on the side,” you deadpan.

Mark stifled a laugh as Hyuck mocked your earlier expression, crisp brown eyes rolling in distaste.

“I know a guy.”

“I’m not even going to start about how concerning that is,” Mark commented, shaking his head, to which you nodded in agreement.

“Well, I do know a guy, so how about it?” Hyuck asked you mostly, knowing Mark would follow any of his strangely well-researched plans solely based on misguided curiosity and comradery.

“I’m going to regret this.”

☆☆☆☆

It was fair to say your regret came quickly. Travelling alongside the California coast with two boys who had an overwhelming interest in the supernatural and occult was like bringing the UFO convention to your backseat. Sure, there was plenty amusement in their giddiness, but listening to multiple versions of dracula on tape and then partaking (barely) in a heated Twilight Saga debate surely soured the mood.

You had elected to drive the final leg of the route, knowing Hyuck would get bored of it in a matter of minutes and that Mark could only drive a couple hours at a time, and it was taking everything in your willpower not to reach over and slap a piece of duct tape across Hyuck’s mouth. He had called shotgun faster than humanly possible at the gas station, and first you hoped it was because he wanted to sit beside you, but no- he wanted to instead crane his neck for two hours to discuss sparkly blood-suckers with Mark.

The thing about you and Donghyuck was that there seemed to perpetually be a thing and nothing. After meeting him on that fateful frigid night filled with mall excursions and yes, donuts, he had quickly integrated himself into yours and Mark’s dynamic duo to become a B-roll three musketeers. Somehow successfully corrupting Mark’s rational brain, he led the three of you (you more so reluctantly) down a path of glorified ghost-hunting, which certainly explained his strange mall appearance and eerie ability to be near-completely silent on his feet. Together, you have had multiple close encounters- that is with tetanus shots and strained vocal cords- but it was never enough for the two boys to rest in their attempts of dragging you about your home state with malfunctioning flashlights and hand-held recorders.

To be fully honest the main reason you found yourself agreeing to these outlandish situations was not because your morbid curiosity or protective nature towards your friends, but rather this thing with Donghyuck. One in which you were both teased mercilessly and supported by Mark. It was a dance of hot and cold flirtation and seemingly imagined moments that passed with a held hand or gentle look only to disappear with a quip that was heavily ladled with steaming embarrassment. Part of you is tempted to roll over and be the one to admit their feelings, but the other half of you was much louder and aggressive in their stance to simply wait it out. Because, on the chance of Hyuck being completely repulsed by the notion of your heart beating a little too fast around him, you’d rather play the safe denial card. And if a small, “I kinda like you, asshole,” was enough to dismantle your paranormal troop, you aren’t positive Mark would have it in himself to forgive you.

That didn’t stop your breath from becoming unsteady, though. That issue seemed to pop up just about every day, prompt to full effect everytime his eyes lingered on you, or his glance fidgeted upon Mark’s arm across your shoulders, or any half-compliment he could muster about you was delivered (knowing anything in sincerity with Donghyuck was a moment to check his temperature).

Now, with his body inches from yours and his hands drumming along to a song inside his head a couple centimeters from your legs, you could hear your pulse inside your skull over the droning voice of whatever certified supernatural devotee that was playing across the radio.

“-it just seemed a little far fetched- and convenient- that vampire babies would only grow until they were at their prime, don’t you think? I understand Meyers would do that for the sake of youthful attractiveness in all her vampiric characters, but in reality wouldn’t all vampires need to be created- not bred?” You tuned back into the tail-end of Hyuck’s speech, his head at an uncomfortable angle, jaw flexing in minor irritation as it always did in argument. It was a tick you were familiar with, your verbal sparring and grazed touches seeming the only communication you could muster with him these days.

“Yes, but what do we really understand of the supernatural to be able to dictate their laws? It’s perfectly plausible that vampires could reproduce and mature to their best physicality, merely because what becomes an ‘implausible scenario’ when vampire exist?” Mark counters, leaning forward so that his seatbelt pushes into his chest and his dark hair flops over his eyes.

You roll your eyes good naturedly, muttering something along the lines of ‘idiots’ underneath your breath. Donghyuck turns to you with a smirk ever present on his pink lips, looking at you affrontedly before turning all his focus back on Mark and Rosemary’s Baby reboots.

“Even being supernatural creatures everything has to bend to the will of their own biology and abilities, and if vampire lore is correct- well, they don’t have much control over their immortality and growth. Once a vampire, you’re stuck, so why would it be any different as an infant?”

“This conversation is ridiculous,” you interject upon hearing Mark’s small intake of breath, not ready to here his wordy response and theories for the fifth time that hour.

“It’s integral to society’s lore, which is integral to culture- what’s so ridiculous?” Hyuck scowled, but you could see the dancing spark in his eyes when you glanced over- dark and full of an addictive mirth.

“What’s ridiculous, is that this whole theoretical biology and immortality argument has to be built upon a basis that vampires are even in the slightest bit real. And because that is more impossible than halting growth by pure will or crazy red-eyed genetics with a dash of sharp incisors. It’s a waste of breath.”

“What’s fun about reality, sweetheart?” Hyuck asks, teasing tone and pretty smile sending flicks of heat up the side of your face.

“Nothing is fun about it, but it’s still reality.”

And the reality for you right now, is that you’ll never end up telling him how you feel.

“Hey guys,” Mark pipes up form the backseat again, “What if one of us gets bitten?”

“They aren’t real, Mark.”

☆☆☆☆

The motel you had rented from last second reminded you a bit too much of abandoned mall corridors, with the smell of dust and mothballs burrowing deep into your nasal cavity with each breath. There were two narrow beds inside the green wallpapered room, draped in mustard floral print that looked rash-worthy and topped with flat pillows and a breath mint a rat would turn down. You scrunch your nose as you set your bag down just inside the door, the backpack strap sliding from your shoulder with a resounding thump. A small box tv took up the darkest corner of the room, antenna crooked like alarm dog ears, the screen dead but the sound of static still haunting the shell.

“Have fun sharing a bed,” you stated to the two boys behind you, both too-occupied in their own conversation to take stock of the dreadful status of your sleeping quarters. It was drab in the way a nursing home could be, spilling about secrets of lonesome drunkards and veterans who had come to lay out their death alone. You felt goosebumps run along your skin from the drafty interior, light barely flickering on when your finger hit the crux of the switch.

“At least we probably won’t sleep here long,” Donghyuck muttered under his breath, kicking at a chipped leg of the bedpost.

“On that note,” you sighed, “I get the two-square-foot bathroom first since I’ll take the longest, use the broken mirror in here.”

“Selfish,” Mark snorted but didn’t protest further, watching you pick up your bag and move about the room cautiously in clear distaste.

You left their murmuring voices as you shut the hollowed-out bathroom door. Rust crawled up the metal fixtures like russet vines, chipping onto your palms as your turned on the faucet. Even after cranking the red-dotted one all the way right, cold water touches your fingertips, feeling like ice. You sigh, foregoing comfort and cursing the boys outside as you splash your face and wince under the spray, a metallic taste running through the back of your throat.

Leaning back, you pushed your hands onto the cracked countertop, looking into your own eyes as they reflected back to you in the mirror. There were bags under your eyes, but not ones you regret, no, they were from late nights playing Clue and stumbling blind in a forest wove with tales of sprites and mischief. You wore the evidence of your friendship across your body, a few scars more maring the skin of your arms that weren’t present before meeting Donghyuck, your skin deeper, your fingers more callused. There seemed to be permanent bruises on your knees now, too much wandering in the dark, crawling across pavement so you wouldn't knock your head into abandoned scaffolding.

Smiling to yourself numbly, you think of the moments where Hyuck would pull you towards him in the dark, somehow braver when neither of you could see well, could fully force yourselves to come to terms with what was happening. He would speak lowly to your ear, hand slipping from yours only to brush against your knuckles or arm every few seconds under the ruse of the swing of his gait. It was why you were shimmying into a slim black dress inside a coffin of a bathroom, hands scratching at the zipper near the back, reapplying smudged makeup darker than you ever allowed yourself before, not used to the reflection in the mirror. Well, you sure looked older.

The straps cut into your collarbones, neckline not low enough for you to be uncomfortable, but cut in a sweeping manner that seemed to make the slope of your neck more elegant, more enticing. The skirt of the piece was another story for you, waist fitted tight and staying close until it dropped just above your mid-thigh, a length you never frequented- but this seemed like a good excuse. Afterall, you were playing a character tonight, an ID older than you, more matured, someone who may wear dresses like this all the time, red lipstick as her everyday. You smiled once, nearly shocked by the way you seemed almost feline, a depth dropping in your eyes, like red curtains opening to reveal the main act. Your waxing grin was center stage.

Satisfied with your appearance you left the bathroom, new-found feeling dancing around your stomach as Donghyuck’s eyes drifted first towards your face before flickering down across your dress, red swelling under the honeyed tan of his skin as he hurried to meet your eyes again. You appraised him similarly, noting his apparel had marginally changed from when you left the room, black jeans still fitted to his waist, the hole in his knee still ripped from a chance encounter with a bat, but he had donned a black button-up as compared to his usual choice of hoodie or half-wrinkled t-shirt. The top couple buttons were undone, exposing his clavicle, drawing you up his neck and to his lips, flush like summer flowers- you wonder briefly if they would be as soft as the velvet of rose petals.

Now your face was blooming with a blush, your nose a subtle pink under the sickly glare of the motel lights.

Mark turned after noticing Hyuck’s apparent freeze, eyes catching on you in surprise with his hands still fixed around the collar of his jacket.

“I knew I was going to have to babysit Hyuck, but not you, Y/N,” he said, eyeing the hem of your dress in brotherly distaste.

“Oh, shut up, don’t act like you’ve never seen legs before,” you rolled your eyes, walking towards the boys and noticing the way Hyuck couldn’t seem to tear his sight from you.

“Remember, we still know you’re underaged,” Mark added, shaking his head and grabbing the keys you had tossed on one of the musty beds.

“I swear to god, Mark, I’ll steal the little silver cross around your neck and turn every ex-hot topic employee on you tonight if you don’t shut up.”

“And here I thought I was going to have to search for a blood-sucker,” Mark quipped back, earning a punch on his shoulder and a snicker from Hyuck.

“We should get going, yeah?” you cleared your throat, turning to locate your discarded jacket.

“I wonder if they’ll sell blood on tap, like with a secret code or something-”

“Still not real, Mark!”

☆☆☆☆

The line outside the club wasn’t long, but it was enough to ensure its reputation with four or five figures wearing black and silver metal adorning their skin. As you wandered up behind them you were struck by a couple near the front, both dangerously beautiful with calculating eyes that flicked over your figure like coals stroked in a fire. Your skin felt stung by embers, a sick hand of apprehension cradled the crux of your neck, and you forced yourself to look away upon their smiles. The man’s mouth was blood red, seeped with the stain of cabernet, skin paled to reflect the moonlight that hung over your heads, nearly glistening.

“Y/N…?” Hyuck’s hand pressed softly into your lower back, urging your eyes to fall from their fixture on the wall beside you, suddenly unable to look towards the club entrance.

You shook yourself slightly, face skewed by your own reaction. The morose feeling that had dug itself into your stomach receded, your hand reaching back to find Hyuck’s wrist, your lithe fingers wrapping around it.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to you, breath ghosting across your ear.

“Fine, just zoning out a bit- the drive might be getting to me,” you shrugged his worry off the same way you shrugged off his theories, knowing he would soon forgo watching over you for the excitement beyond this wall.

It didn’t take long for you to enter, and the bouncer outside barely spared a glance towards your ID card, and your not sure if he would’ve been able to tell anyways with red glare that broke through the club doors. You followed the two boys inside, wary of the sudden heat that overwhelmed you once you breached from the outdoors. The previous chill that had draped itself over you had been burned within moments of looking around the environment, a sheen of sweat already working itself across the nape of your neck.

The club was dripping in a seedy darkness, one that dropped like a cloak from beyond the bar and towards the skeptical looking bathrooms outlined only by strokes of red lights and the sporadic flashing near the middle of the room where the most bodies congregated, drawn towards each other by the inflicted charm of alcohol and hormones. You upturned your nose slightly, catching onto a scent that reminded you of cherry syrup and thick cologne, the stagnant aroma making your head light.

The steps that dropped away from the door felt as if descending into a lion’s pit, your stomach churning with a sense of both fear and crude curiosity, the click of your heels somehow overheard amongst the pulsing music, nearly catching up in volume to your heartbeat. In moments it seemed that Donghyuck and Mark had been swept away, melted into the crowd like mist breaking through the trees. You choked down the panic that came with your sudden independence, eyes catching the jewelry of the crowd as the lights flashed again, the reflections through the atmosphere reminded you of searchlights.

Your feet carried you backwards, toward the edge of the room and the box of lowlight that made up the bar, thinking that if you were to spot either of the boys again you would need to be able to see. The perfume you had been overwhelmed with earlier returned as you took a perch on one of the empty barstool, rendering your head heavy, your eyes lidded. It was immobilizing, your lips felt as if they were moving on your own, tongue liking along the seam of your dry mouth.

A part of you wished Hyuck would turn a corner and appear to you, but the lights flashed again, and you felt as if you couldn’t see anything. Where had they even gone? Why did you come here?

Then you say him, the man from outside, with crow’s eyes and a sharp slip of a grin dancing across the clean features of his face. Your skin felt impossibly flushed, as if drenched in summer sunlight amongst an empty desert, humidity choking your throat. He stepped closer, into your space, head cocking to the side as his body caged you in towards the bar. You were suddenly too tired to move, eyes locked with his, drawn in by the retching beauty that fluxed inside his pupils. The atmosphere settled as his hand rose, freezing to the touch of your jaw, his fingertips running gently against your neck, as if he was appraising it. He did not speak, but you felt as if you could hear him. His voice was like midnight glass.

Still smiling, he pulled you to stand with him, and in your daze you followed, eyes unfocused but legs steady as they moved beneath you. His hands guided you, so cold, unlike the palm that Hyuck had pressed to you what felt like only moments before. You suddenly had no clue what time it was, how much time has passed since you had entered this place. How had you lost Mark and Hyuck amongst the crowd before you had barely met it? Why had they left you so quickly?

The cold of the outdoors enveloped you with night’s welcoming arms, and the moon seemed wider beyond the gloss of your eyes. You barely could see the man anymore, too distracted as the world seemed to stretch around you, the sky pulling by threads. It disappeared into a thin stripe as you were pulled into an alleyway, your legs meeting the cold brick of the building behind you, the chill seeping through the thin material of your dress. The man ran his fingers delicately across your declitage, grinning, smirking as your chin tipped back reluctantly. He moved closer, but no breath ghosted along your skin as you had expected, only frozen lips barely making contact with your throat.

Your bones felt like matchsticks, pricking with friction but stuck straight to your sides.

“Y/N!” A shout came from down the alleyway, but you were petrified still, even with the man pulling his mouth from your neck.

A rush of footsteps came towards you, but you couldn’t recognize the voice that carried with it, nor could you recognize the shove that forced the man off of you.

“What the fuck are you doing with her, asshole?”

A loud smack pulled you closer to the edge of reality, the stone-dropping noise of skin against bone. A sharp grunt, a tighter coil wound in your throat, but your fingers no longer felt numb. Your eyes seemed to clear when Donghyuck hit the ground in front of you, red stains on his knuckles, his lip split.

“Hyuck!” you yelled at him, and through the sluggish fragment of yourself you pulled him up, giving a quick glance over your shoulder where the man stood, smiling, a dark bruise spreading across his jaw and eye.

Against his protest you yanked Hyuck away, towards the open street beyond the two brick fortress walls, your fingers feeling sticky as his blood ran through your grip.

“Y/N,” you pulled on, not pausing to listen to him, not bothering to glance back at his worried gaze, “Y/N!” he stopped suddenly, jolting you still by the rip of your shoulder.

“We have to keep going, Hyuck, what are you doing?” you asked him incredulously, the cold night air spreading goose flesh against your paled skin.

“Nothing’s chasing us,” he told you, slowly pulling you towards him and looking over his shoulder, where your eyes followed. Surely enough the sidewalk was empty, stretching farther into town and only drenched in the random bursts of yellow streetlights.

“Where did you go?” you whimpered, shivering harder as you finally came into his space, his arms wrapping around you.

“What do you mean?” he asked into your hair, your chin tucked into his chest, “We walked inside and you disappeared, Mark and I were looking for an hour.”

“An hour?”

It had felt like five minutes had passed.

“I thought I saw you walk out the door, but I didn’t see the guy, so I told Mark to go back to the motel and make sure you didn’t go there. I waited a few more minutes to come outside- I, well I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you breathed, “You didn’t know.”

His eyes had been so dark. The ghost of a cold hand rubbed along your arms.

“Who was he?” Hyuck asked, pulling your face from his to look in your eyes.

“I- I don’t know,” you tried to find words to explain, “I don’t think he said anything.”

“And you followed him outside?” Hyuck spluttered, a dagger of anger slicing through his eyes.

“No, no of course not,” you tucked your cold hands into his sides, pulling him somehow closer to you, “it was as if… I don't know, Hyuck, really I don’t know what happened.”

His eyes softened slightly when your voice answered his in shakes.

“Try to explain it to me.”

“I thought I had lost the two of you when we got inside, so I went towards the bar to wait. I remember it smelled like- like cough syrup and rain. It was overpowering,” a tremor rolled down your spine, “Then this man appeared- he was actually waiting in front of us in line outside- and he smiled. And then my limbs felt, well, they felt fuzzy. I felt like I didn’t have control, and my eyes wouldn’t focus.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Nothing, not even a glass of water.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall, black, black eyes. It was like looking into an obsidian pool. His skin was so cold, Hyuck, it was like being touched by a corpse.”

At that sentence you broke off, eyes being lost against the tarmac of the streets and Hyuck sighed softly, pulling you off of him only to wrap his arm back around your waist. You felt his fingers press against your hip bone for a moment until he tucked you beside him. His lips pressed against your hairline gently, and if it wasn’t for the awakening freeze of the air you would’ve thought you imagined it.

“We should get back- make sure Mark is okay.”

“Okay.”

FIN.

169 notes · View notes

shironekooo · 6 years

Text

Art in its truest form

Chp.2 - How to play a little game

Kamski x Reader

Words: 1434

You open your eyes. Mind is still in a sleep and confusion mode, making it harder to make out your surroundings. But hell, what a nightmare you had. Getting drunk and being kidnapped. The big and mighty Elijah Kamski is a serial killer. You could totally write a story about that. If not the fogy memories of those “events”. Wait…so what did actually happen last night? You rub your eyes and sit up. Look around. This is not…your home. There’re clear markings on your wrists from where the rope was digging into your skin not so long ago. Suddenly you get overwhelmed. Heart starts to beat like crazy, adrenaline pumps through your veins. Hands shaking. You are still in his house.

-Get it together, - you say to yourself. You’re still alive. You’re still alive. That’s more than you could imagine you would get. This is a good sign. You just need to calm down and assess the situation.

You look around again. On the table next to the bed is a glass of water. Seeing it you realize how thirsty you are, but you feel reluctant to drink it. The other thing that catches your eye is some kind of clothing left on a bed framing. You decide to get out of bed, putting on what turned out be a robe, and calmly exit the bedroom.

Sounds coming from further away along with delicious aroma invite you to go take a closer look, instead of aimlessly roaming around this huge villa. It’s not like you have much of a choice anyway.

You walk into a kitchen where your worst nightmare is standing behind a stove and is cooking. He looks as casual, as the first time. Blue jeans, white shirt. Sleeves rolled back and first two buttons of a shirt left unbuttoned. That pristine hairstyle. Devil indeed comes in a form of your desires… You announce your presence with a silent cough and Elijah lifts his eyes from a pan.

-How are you feeling? – he gives you a faint smile before returning his attention to the food.

-Better than the first time, - you fearfully walk up and sit on a bar stool across the chef.

-It’s because I adjusted the doze. I’m glad it has a gentler effect.

How considerate of him. You don’t know what to say to that, but there is a burning question, that just keeps circling in your head. It’s very obvious for Elijah too, since you stare at him like a puppy. He waits a little, but you don’t speak up.

-Ask away, - finally encourages, so you could stop filling the room with that loud silence.

-Why am I alive?

-Most women… - he begins, but then stops, thinking over the things he’s about to say. - All women are very noisy. They talk too much, they ask too much, always pretending and hiding under their masks. Only in silence do they uncover their true beauty and flourish. I appreciate them more in that state. But you… - he looks you in the eyes and it sends shivers down your spine. Something tugs at a bottom of your stomach. Is it fear or excitement? You can’t tell them apart. - You’re charming and intriguing the way you are. I want to know more.

You stay silent. What is there to say? Thank you? He sees you as someone special in his own twisted way, but that doesn’t tell you what awaits you in the future… for now you can only play his game and hope to be good at it.

-What are you studying?

You’re not surprised he knows that you’re a student. Probably checked your bag and saw the id. Together with other personal information.

-Psychology.

-That explains a lot – his lips form a smile again. Is he mocking you?

-The fact that I’m messed up in the head? – you decide to play along.

-No. The fact that you’re more concerned with “Why” than “What”.

Hmmm… he’s not wrong. Taking this situation for example. You know there is nothing you can do to change what happened. You’re in for a ride. But you are damn curious why Elijah chose you, why he spared you, why is he like this in the first place. Damn that psychology oriented mind. You might get killed over it.

You space out, looking at the pancakes resting on a plate right in front of you. You always snack while brainstorming. You need that fuel. Also, your stomach feels empty and hurts from hunger. Your hand reaches out for a pancake, but immediately gets smacked. Ouch…

-Wait until it’s done or I’ll be forced to punish you, - with just the voice he asserts his dominance. Boundaries are formed and you’re not going to protest it one bit.

-I won’t do that ever again…

-I know you won’t. Sit down at a table.

You stand up and move to the dining table. Elijah brings freshly made pancakes and a pot of coffee. He takes a seat across from you.

-This is the only thing I can actually make decent, so enjoy.

You guess he’s not going to poison you now, so might as well eat. Even if he was thinking of doing it, you would still eat, because you haven’t put anything nutritious in your mouth for quite some time. Only alcohol and a mix of drugs. That shit makes you hungry. You take a bite and light up.

-These are good! – your comment is genuine. You can’t tell what’s so different about them, but there’s definitely a secret here. You wonder, if it’s something his mother thought him. For a serial killer it’s common to have a trauma related to a mother, making him choose women as his victims. But also they have something special they treasure from those times. Mother is a mother, after all. You don’t ask of course. Simply enjoy the food, feeling Elijah’s pleased look.

– Can I take a shower after this?

-Of course. I’ll arrange you to have all the necessary things for your stay.

-Thank you.

“Please” and “Thank you” are going to be two things that will help you stay alive in this household.

You have an amazing lunch and take a shower after. Elijah brings you new clothes to wear and you gladly take them. You know that all this is for him to feel like you depend on him, but there is no harm in dressing up a little. Clothes feel expensive and smell amazing. You would never afford it yourself. Every cloud has a silver lining, might as well enjoy it, if by any chance you’re counting your last days.

You walk around the house a little, since there’s nothing else for you to do. It’s full of interesting art pieces, there are a lot of books everywhere, piano in a living room. You would easily find how to occupy yourself, but legs keep carrying you around. Finally they stop by the window. You look outside and clearly see the driveway. A lot of trees surrounding this place. Snow, fresh and piled up, like you would see on a postcard. Pretty view, but makes you feel lonely. You realize how far away from everyone else you actually are.

-Thinking of running away?

Elijah sneaks up on you, but you’re not startled. Somehow you felt like this is the right moment for him to show up.

-No, I just wanted to breathe in some fresh air.

-Come this way then.

He walks you to the other side of the house and leads to an outside terrace. You immediately snuggle into your sweater. It’s cold.

-Do you want me to run away? – after a long silence, you finally turn to face Elijah, whose gaze you were feeling all this time.

-What gives you that idea? – you catch him off guard with this question.

-You’re looking at me like a predator ready to start his hunt.

-Excuse me for that. I have never taken anyone in. I might be a little on edge, - he softens his expression and releases tension from the body.

-Well, I have never had to stay with someone like you, so this is new for both of us. But we will make it work. Together.

For a split second a spark can be seen in his eyes. Elijah reaches out and gently touches your face. He seems pleased with the answer.

Step one: make your presence clear. You’re not here because he keeps you a prisoner, you are here because you choose to stay. Make him see you as a partner.

#fanfiction #elijah kamski #dbh #kamski x reader #elijah x reader

33 notes · View notes

casscutting · 6 years

Text

Book Haul

I got all these books for a grand total of $6.50 and one book was purchased for me by a very good friend of mine who also happens to be my critique partner.

Book One: House By Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker

Publication Information: Published in March of 2006 by West Bow Press which is an imprint of Thomas Nelson Publishers

Book Summary: Jack and Stephanie Singleton, a married couple on the verge of a divorce, are driving to a counseling session when they find themselves lost on a deserted road in Alabama. Taking the advice of a highway patrolman, they head down a long dirt road, where they run over spikes, flattening all of their tires and stranding them. Fortunately, they are near an old Victorian house in the backwoods of Alabama, occupied by a family of three and being used as an inn. They check-in and have a strangely mysterious dinner with them, as well as another dating couple, Randy and Leslie. Things begin to go bitter, however. One of the family, Pete, begins staring down Leslie, stating that he wants her as his “wife.” Betty, another one of the family members, keeps hounding Stephanie to get her more ice.

Then, to make matters worse, the lights turn off, and a serial killer named White locks them inside of the House. He throws a soup can down through the chimney with a message scrawled on it. The message states that he has killed God and will murder all seven of them unless they kill one of their own by dawn.

All the people frantically move through the house, but just get trapped in each new room while trying to avoid the man in the mask.

Why I Picked It Up: Like most of the books in this haul I didn’t go in knowing anything about this book but the synopsis seemed intriguing and I like horror-ish thrillers and this seemed like a good one. I have never read anything by either author before so I don’t know how well I’m going to like it but for $0.50 I thought what the hell (that’s the case for most of these books to be honest lol)

Book Two: The Host by Stephenie Meyer

Publication Information: In May of 2008 by Little, Brown, and Company

Book Summary: Melanie Stryder refuses to fade away. The earth has been invaded by a species that take over the minds of human hosts while leaving their bodies intact. Wanderer, the invading “soul” who has been given Melanie’s body, didn’t expect to find its former tenant refusing to relinquish possession of her mind.

As Melanie fills Wanderer’s thoughts with visions of Jared, a human who still lives in hiding, Wanderer begins to yearn for a man she’s never met. Reluctant allies, Wanderer and Melanie set off to search for the man they both love.

Why I Picked It Up: I know what some of you are thinking “But Cass you hate Twilight, you never miss a chance to remind us about how much you hate sparkly vampires so why would you pick up a Stephenie Meyer book” Well faithful reader of my blog here’s the reason. I saw this movie about a year after it came out and I really enjoyed it. I had no idea that it was based on a book nor that that book was written by Stephenie Meyer. I thought it was a modern take on the wonderfully cult classic movie from 1956 which I love or even another take on the more recent 1998’s The Faculty. So I wanted to read the book on which this movie was based.

Book Three: Hannibal Rising by Thomas Harris

Publication Information: December 5th 2006 by Delacorte Press

Book Summary: It is the 4th book in a series so I won’t be filling this part out.

Why I Picked It Up: I have a fascination with Hannibal Lecter and I love (MOST) of the movies based on him, not a huge fan of Red Dragon, which happens to be the first book in this series. I want to collect the series and read it but they only had this one book there and it was also a recommendation by the friend I mentioned in the rant above.

Book Four: Misery by Stephen King

Publication Information: Published in 1987 which is when my copy was printed. By Viking Press which is an imprint of Penguin Random House.

Book Summary: Paul Sheldon. He’s a bestselling novelist who has finally met his biggest fan. Her name is Annie Wilkes and she is more than a rabid reader – she is Paul’s nurse, tending his shattered body after an automobile accident. But she is also his captor, keeping him prisoner in her isolated house.

Why I Picked It Up: Misery was one of my favorite movies growing up, it was the first movie I saw with Kathy Bates and I fell in love with her acting ability. And its Stephen King do I really need to say more?

Book Five: Marley and Me: Life and Love With the World’s Worst Dog by John Grogan

Publication Information: Harper Collins, October 2005

Book Summary: John and Jenny were just beginning their life together. They were young and in love, with a perfect little house and not a care in the world. Then they brought home Marley, a wiggly yellow furball of a puppy. Life would never be the same.

Marley quickly grew into a barreling, ninety-seven-pound steamroller of a Labrador retriever, a dog like no other. He crashed through screen doors, gouged through drywall, flung drool on guests, stole women’s undergarments, and ate nearly everything he could get his mouth around, including couches and fine jewelry. Obedience school did no good—Marley was expelled. Neither did the tranquilizers the veterinarian prescribed for him with the admonishment, “Don’t hesitate to use these.”

And yet Marley’s heart was pure. Just as he joyfully refused any limits on his behavior, his love and loyalty were boundless, too. Marley shared the couple’s joy at their first pregnancy and their heartbreak over the miscarriage. He was there when babies finally arrived and when the screams of a seventeen-year-old stabbing victim pierced the night. Marley shut down a public beach and managed to land a role in a feature-length movie, always winning hearts as he made a mess of things. Through it all, he remained steadfast, a model of devotion, even when his family was at its wit’s end. Unconditional love, they would learn, comes in many forms.

Why I Picked It Up: Because I don’t think I died enough on the inside having seen this movie twice.

Book Six: The Patchwork Girl Of Oz by L. Frank Baum

Publication Information: The original publication date was in 1913 my copy is from 1989 and was published by Watermill Press

Book Summary: This is the 7th book in the Oz series by L. Frank Baum so again I won’t put a summery hear for that reason

Why I Picked It Up: I LOVE the Wizard of Oz. I have a tattoo of the first 4 bars of Over The Rainbow tattoed around my left wrist. It is a memorial tattoo for my grandmother. She, my mother and I all love the movie and bond over it all the time. When my grandmother passed in 2010 I wanted to have a themed tattoo around the movie. Because I loved the movie so much I’ve always wanted to read the books. Even though I do have a bind up of 1-5 and 6-10 (still need 11-15) I would love to own the individual books as well.

Book Seven: Matilda by Roald Dahl

Publication Information: Published by Puffin which is an imprint of Penguin Random House

Book Summary: Matilda is a little girl who is far too good to be true. At age five-and-a-half, she’s knocking off double-digit multiplication problems and blitz-reading Dickens. Even more remarkably, her classmates love her even though she’s a super-nerd and the teacher’s pet. But everything is not perfect in Matilda’s world. For starters, she has two of the most idiotic, self-centered parents who ever lived. Then there’s the large, busty nightmare of a school principal, Mrs. (“The”) Trunchbull, a former hammer-throwing champion who flings children at will and is approximately as sympathetic as a bulldozer. Fortunately for Matilda, she has the inner resources to deal with such annoyances: astonishing intelligence, saintly patience, and an innate predilection for revenge.

She warms up with some practical jokes aimed at her hapless parents, but the true test comes when she rallies in defense of her teacher, the sweet Miss Honey, against the diabolical Trunchbull. There is never any doubt that Matilda will carry the day. Even so, this wonderful story is far from predictable. Roald Dahl, while keeping the plot moving imaginatively, also has an unerring ear for emotional truth. The reader cares about Matilda because, in addition to all her other gifts, she has real feelings.

Why I Picked It Up: I, like most children from the late 80’s onward grew up watching this movie which is where I in love with the story. Like with the host I had no idea this was a book at first and once I found out about it I wanted to read it. When I saw it at the sale I picked it up so I could finally do that.

Book Eight: The Dark Descent

Publication Information: My copy is from 1987 which is the year it was published by Tor Books which is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers

Book Summary: This highly acclaimed anthology traces the evolution of horror, from Nathaniel Hawthorn and Edgar Allan Poe to Stephen King. Adopted by colleges across the country to be used in literature courses, The Dark Descent showcases some of the finest horror fiction ever written.

Contents:

Pt. 1 – The Color of Evil

The Reach / Stephen King

Evening Primrose / John Collier

The Ash-Tree / M. R. James

The New Mother / Lucy Clifford

There’s a Long, Long Trail A-winding / Russell Kirk

The Call of Cthulhu / H. P. Lovecraft

The Summer People / Shirley Jackson

The Whimper of Whipped Dogs / Harlan Ellison

Young Goodman Brown / Nathaniel Hawthorne

Mr. Justice Harbottle / J. Sheridan Le Fanu

The Crowd / Ray Bradbury

The Autopsy / Michael Shea

John Charrington’s Wedding / E. Nesbit

Sticks / Karl Edward Wagner

Larger Than Oneself / Robert Aickman

Belsen Express / Fritz Leiber

Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper / Robert Bloch

If Damon Comes / Charles L. Grant

Vandy, Vandy / Manly Wade Wellman

Pt. 2 – The Medusa in the Shield

The Swords / Robert Aickman

The Roaches / Thomas M. Disch

Bright Segment / Theodore Sturgeon

Dread / Clive Barker

The Fall of the House of Usher / Edgar Allan Poe

The Monkey / Stephen King

Within the Walls of Tyre / Michael Bishop

The Rats in the Walls / H. P. Lovecraft

Schalken the Painter / J. Sheridan Le Fanu

The Yellow Wallpaper / Charlotte Perkins Gilman

A Rose for Emily / William Faulkner

How Love Came to Professor Guildea / Robert Hichens

Born of Man and Woman / Richard Matheson

My Dear Emily / Joanna Russ

You Can Go Now / Dennis Etchison

The Rocking-Horse Winner / D. H. Lawrence

Three Days / Tanith Lee

Good Country People / Flannery O’Connor

Mackintosh Willy / Ramsey Campbell

The Jolly Corner / Henry James

Pt. 3 – A Fabulous Formless Darkness

Smoke Ghost / Fritz Leiber

Seven American Nights / Gene Wolfe

The Signal-Man / Charles Dickens

Crouch End / Stephen King

Night-Side / Joyce Carol Oates

Seaton’s Aunt / Walter de la Mare

Clara Militch / Ivan Turgenev

The Repairer of Reputations / Robert W. Chambers

The Beckoning Fair One / Oliver Onions

What Was It? / Fitz-James O’Brien

The Beautiful Stranger / Shirley Jackson

The Damned Thing / Ambrose Bierce

Afterward / Edith Wharton

The Willows / Algernon Blackwood

The Asian Shore / Thomas M. Disch

The Hospice / Robert Aickman

A Little Something for Us Tempunauts / Philip K. Dick

Why I Picked It Up: Simple, it looked interesting

Book Fifteen: The Elvenbane. Book one in the Halfblood Chronicles #1 by Andre Norton and Mercedes Lackey

Publication Information: Published in November of 1991 by Tor Books which is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers

Book Summary: The elven lords rule the world with a magical iron hand, secure in their dominion over the animal kingdom—including the original human inhabitants of the planet. If they find cause for worry, and the elven lords are not normally inclined in that manner, it is in respect to the Prophecy. The Prophecy insists that a child born of an elven lord and a human will lead a successful rebellion against their rule. Not surprisingly, the elven lords take extraordinary pains to avoid impregnating their human concubines.

This practice does not arise from any special fear concerning the Prophecy, but rather the memory of a past confrontation between the elven lords and their halfbreed offspring—a battle in which the elven lords found victory, but only by the narrowest of margins. Unknown to the elven lords, however, there is another threat to their tyranny.

Inhabiting the same planet, and possessed of magical skills powerful in their own right, are the race of dragons. It is such a dragon, Alara, who discovers a human woman in labor deep in the desert. Alara assists in the birth of the child and raises it alongside her son Keman. As the year's pass, it becomes clear that the Prophecy of an elvenbane is more fact than fiction as dragons, elven lords, halfbreeds, and talented humans struggle to determine the destiny of the world.

This collaboration between one of the most accomplished authors in the genre and a relative newcomer tot he scene is most successful. Such unions of master and apprentice are a popular trend, but this particular partnership is exceptionally satisfying. Norton is not unfamiliar with dragons, and ELVENBANE demonstrates that she’s not lost her touch.

Why I Picked It Up: I didn’t it was given to me by my friend for which I am very grateful.

So that’s it, those are the books in my haul I hope you enjoyed.

The question of the day: How many of these books have you read before and how did you feel about them?

#books #book haul #haul

1 note · View note