Such as wanting a child. Really wanting a child. But you don't want a relationship and the hassle that comes with it. You just think you'd be a better mother than wife or girlfriend. You explore medical options but they come up short, so you think you'll do it the traditional way: having sex with a man. It will be fun and casual and you'll never ask for more, just disappear in the sea of people of this big city. You'll avoid saps and men who clearly don't know what they want. And maybe tell a lie or two.
You shuffle in your shrug, looking around once more. Clearly out of your depth in the bar, sticky pavement and couples around you groping at each other. None of the men who approached you so far have fit the ideal of a guy you'd have sex with, let alone be the father of your child. You're starting to give up on the idea, go back to a clinic and pay money for the deed, when you lock eyes with him. Time doesn't stop, or any romantic bullshit of the sort, but there's an understanding between the parts of the brain that are making you do this in the first place. This fella with sad eyes will do if he wants you.
He tells you his name is Simon, his stubble almost touching your cheek as he moves closer to your ear. You smile at him, trying hard to be the maneater you have never been, grabbing him lightly by the arm. He doesn't take much more convincing. In the dim streetlight, he's more human than the shadow he seemed in the building. He looks ahead, not minding you one bit, as you lead him to your hotel room. You think you play the part of the ingenue slut pretty well when you whisper that well, if he's clean... he doesn't need to put it on. Simon's answer is a twitch of his jaw and his maw on your neck. He fucks like he hasn't done it in a while, almost avid. You like that you two don't talk: there's no pretense of it being anything but a mutual use.
You're not that stupid to think you'll get pregnant in one go, of course. Simon and you see each other for two weeks, mostly fucking in your motel room or in his house, a drab apartment that reveals his perpetual singleness mirroring much of your own life. He lets go he's a soldier, and you think that must add up even if you have no experience. When the test tells you what you want to hear, you block Simon's contact and go back home, more thankful to the man than he will ever know.
Six months later, you're okay. Your belly barely bulges but your baby is growing just fine, the doctor says. Your family was shocked when you told them you were pregnant: for ease of everyone involved you insisted he doesn't want anything to do with your baby. Some part of you does feel a little bad, but you doubt a man as emotionally closed as Simon will miss you or want a kid.
You discover you're wrong when he steps in your way while going to work one morning. Seeing his scarred face almost send you in a panic, his massive body blocking your way. Unconsciously you cover your belly.
"Ya alrigh'?" Simon's tone isn't accusing but it's also not surpised enough for a casual meeting. Has he been searching for you?
"Yes," you let out. "I've been fine. Simon, sorry I-"
"Is it mine?" You breath out, panicking now. You want to say no. You need to say no. But your obvious fish gaping isn't helping your case.
"Why didn't ya tell me?"
"Because... because I want this baby. I did it on purpose. But I wasn't going to tell you." You sigh, unable to look at him in the eye. "I wanted it to be my baby. You don't need to give us or do anything for us..."
You can't see what he's doing, what his face is showing, but then he gets closer, taking hold of your shoulder gently.
"I understand."
Simon doesn't understand, in reality. He hovers around you like a satellite, peeking at a world that doesn't want him too close. He will bide his time, though. Once the baby is born, he'll get the new family he's been desperate to hold for years.
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daisuke (mouthwashing) x fem!reader, comfort/fluff, not exactly canon-compliant
“Daisuke…” You murmur, tapping his shoulder gently, “You awake?” “Hmm…? What is it?” His voice is hoarse, tinged with sleep as he wakes up. “Sorry…” You press your face into his back, his familiar scent washing over you and calming your nerves, but it clearly doesn’t work well enough, because barely a second passes before you’re sniffling. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” The man rolls over to face you, his brown eyes flooding with concern. “I…” You look up at him and you don’t even know how to string your jumbled thoughts together into coherent sentences – are you all stuck here forever? Will you ever see your family again? Is this where you're going to die?
You finally settle on a broken “I want to go home…”, your eyes filling with a fresh wave of tears. Now you’re crying freely, desperately burying your face in his chest to muffle your sobs lest you wake the others. “Oh, baby…” The pet name slips past his lips accidentally as he cradles your face in his large hands, thumbs calloused from working under Swansea swiping away at your tears, “Shh… it’s okay, let it out.”
Finally, your sniffles turn to hiccups, and then you fall silent. “We’re going to get home, okay? Swansea’s working on getting the cryopods free, remember? By the time 20 years pass, we’ll be back home!” Daisuke does his best to comfort you, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer and ground you with his warmth. His lips crack into a playful smile, “By then, you’ll be a granny~” That pulls a laugh out of you, “Shut up, you’re older than me. You’ll be a great-grandpa!” The two of you snicker quietly, shattering the tense silence in the room. The walls are awash in orange and red hues, painting a brilliant sunset on his features – he really is your sun.
Daisuke cups your cheek with one hand, and your eyes flutter shut as you nuzzle into his touch. It makes his breath catch in his throat, the absolute trust you place in him to be this vulnerable even as your life is up in the air – does he even deserve this? His free hand traces the contours of your face, learning every curve and dip and freckle, staring at you as if to commit your visage to memory. “Don’t stare,” you giggle softly as you open your eyes again. “I can’t help it…” His voice is almost breathless, “You’re so pretty.” A soft gasp escapes you, your cheeks heating up at his simple yet genuine compliment. He smiles, and his eyes are filled with adoration as his gaze sweeps over your features; you really are so beautiful. The gentle intimacy makes warmth blossom in your chest, and you envelope his hand with yours, turning your face ever so slightly to press a gentle kiss to his palm.
“A-ah?!” Daisuke's eyes widen, almost bugging out of his head, but then his expression softens into one so incredibly tender it feels criminal to witness this moment while the ship hangs frozen in space. Can it be right to love someone under such circumstances? Or is it love precisely because it persists despite the circumstances? He presses his lips to the top of your head, resting his chin there as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck. “I’m glad you’re here, Daisuke,” you whisper, savouring the feeling of your body slotted against his, two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly as the world falls apart around them. “I’m so glad you’re here too,” He kisses the crown of your head once more, drawing circles on your lower back with his free hand, “Now go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“You’ll always be there, won’t you?”
“I will, baby.”
( He lied. )
kira's notes ; first post on this acc yippee! and also first contribution to the mouthwashing fandom... i am so deeply obsessed w this man and this game it is Insane. my writing skills are vv rusty so plz bear with me while i get back into the swing of things,,, anyways i hope u liked this hehe <3
I strive to be the kind of commenter that motivates an author to write from just a single easily interactive comment cause wowie does it feel good to leave a comment, have an author tell you how much they appreciate it, and then receive another new chapter notification 2 days later
Biblically accurate Whole, anyone? ngl IASTE/NMTK Reprise HMSW deserve their own version. Especially Whole . And smth smth aboutbthe fact that maybe someone has watched them from afar. Has been there without them knowing. Also if Chonny Jash ever makes a cover consider ME DEAD. I will ascend.
ok i know this is kinda weird request butttttt Aaron Hotchner x reader where aaron is meeting readers father for the first time and the father kinda threatens aaron and is not happy with their relationship and then aaron gets kind of insecure and reader comforts him
listen, i keep saying there's no such thing as a weird request with me!!
and thank you for requesting! 🩷
pairing: hotch x fem!reader
rating: e
warnings: reader has a brief panic attack, angry reader!dad, yelling, swear words, hotch being insecure and a cute idiot all rolled into one
"okay," aaron says, blowing out a breath. "how does this look?"
you turn from your spot in the ensuite bathroom where you're sitting perched on the counter as you do your make up. "you look good, babe. as always." you shoot him a scrunched up nose smile at him and he rolls his eyes playfully at you. he's wearing dark blue jeans and a collared black polo shirt, nothing too fancy - something he would usually wear when he takes you to dinner. he nervously fidgets with his watch as he paces the bedroom.
you finish the final touches on your make up and slide off the counter to look at yourself from a distance in the mirror. your going to your father's house for dinner so he can meet aaron, so you don't have to look perfect, but it is the first time you're seeing your dad in about two years, so you kinda wanna look presentable. you turn your body to make sure you don't have a water or make up stain on your black dress.
"i've never seen you so anxious before," you tell him. he looks at you with wide eyes. "i'm fine." you huff a laugh through your nose. you might not be a profiler like him, but you can definitely tell when he's not acting like his normal self. and he's definitely not acting like his calm and collected normal self.
you walk over to him and place the palms of your hands on his chest. "he's going to love you." you smooth your hands up and fix his collar and then bounce up on your toes to kiss him on the lips.
he doesn't say anything to that, instead he just walks into the closet to put his shoes on. after a few minutes he reappears. "okay. how are you not nervous?"
you grin at him as you slide past him to get into the closet for your own shoes, and he quickly stops you with an arm across your stomach.
"you haven't seen the guy in nearly two years, and i know things didn't end...well...between you. are you sure you're going to be okay?" he uses his arm to pull you towards him so that you're standing in front of him. he lets his hand fall to the back of your hip and squeezes.
"i'll be okay. he insists everything is fine and forgiven, so i have to trust that. thank you for asking though."
he sucks in a deep breath through his nose and then leans down to meet your lips in a soft kiss.
-----
it isn't until your sitting in the car right outside of your father's house that you actually start to feel a little nervous. the anxiety is slowly simmering in your stomach and you can feel the heat of it rising up into your chest. you suck in a deep breath, close your eyes and will it all away. everything will be fine.
you catch aaron studying you out of your peripheral vision, but thankfully he doesn't ask if you're okay, because if he did...in that moment, you probably would have told him to take you home.
instead he turns to fully look at you, waiting for you to take the lead. when you don't, he lets himself out of the car and walks over to the passenger side and opens it, offering his hand to you.
you take it and stand, smoothing out any wrinkles in your dress. he closes the door behind you as he looks up to the house.
"we can get back in the car and go, honey. he'll never know-"
and as if on que, your father opens the front door and waves to you both. you both crack a fake smile and wave back. "ah, you weren't quick enough." he says in a whisper. you laugh.
----
it hasn't even been ten minutes inside the house with your father when you angrily slam the dining room chair you'd just been sitting in back under the table.
"you have NO fucking right, dad-"
"i have EVERY fucking right-"
your face is hot, your lungs feel like they're going to combust and you'd probably cry if the rage taking over your body wasn't holding every other emotion hostage.
aaron has an arm around you stomach holding you back. he's trying to talk over the yelling but you have no idea what he's saying, despite the fact that he's directly behind you.
"ENOUGH!" aaron booms. it startles you back into his chest and he grips you a little tighter. both you and your father fall silent.
"it was very kind of you to invite us for dinner," you hear him start, his voice is strong and firm - you can tell he's beyond upset. "and i'm sorry for whatever feelings you have about our relationship. but we're adults, sir, and i love your daughter and i'm not going to just leave her because you can't get past that i'm older than her."
the older man rolls his eyes and throws a glass salt shaker at the wall, barely missing both of your bodies. "get the fuck out of my house."
and so you do. you both hurriedly take off, aaron right behind you as you fling the front door open so hard you think for a split second it might actually fall off the hinges.
you clamor into the car and immediately drop your head into your lap, the monster anxiety attack that was simmering before you even got here now reaching the surface and boiling over. you hear aaron get in on the driver side, his hand immediately finding its way to your back rubbing soothing circles. he doesn't start the car even though he wants to drive as fast as possible out of here, but he needs to make sure you're okay before he can even think about navigating a motor vehicle.
"breathe, honey. it's okay. it's over and done with. we're going to go home and figure it out." his voice is low and soothing and makes you cry more.
you sober after a moment, tears still sitting in your eyes but don't spill over. you sniffle, clear your throat and shake your head, as if your body is an emotional etch-a-sketch that you're trying to clear. you huff out an angry sigh and put your seat belt on. "i'm okay, lets just go."
-----
its only when you walk through the front door of your apartment that you realize just how exhausted you are. the inevitable crash of crying hitting you hard. you toe your heels off at the door, not even bothering to pick them up and carry them with you back to the closet. neither of you say anything as you both make your way back to the bedroom and undress. it's not even 8 pm and you're ready to sleep for the next 3 days.
once you're in bed, you immediately crawl into aaron's waiting arms. you lay half on him on your stomach, your leg thrown in between his and rest your head on his shoulder. he's shirtless and warm and you snuggle and sigh into his neck as you finally try to process the events of the evening.
"are you okay?" you ask him.
"i'm fine," he tells you. "i was just worried about you. that was pretty intense."
you hum, a tinge of guilt hitting you. you didn't exactly tell him your father was an angry man, always looking to belittle and control you. for some reason, you thought that after 2 years of not seeing him, maybe he wouldn't blow a gasket. lesson learned.
"i'm sorry," you say. "i thought he'd behave better with you there."
he doesn't say anything else and you have to stop the tears from coming again.
"do..." he clears his throat. "do you...does the age difference between us bother you?"
your head pops up off his chest so quickly. you stare him in the eyes, the street lamp outside the window lighting up the room enough to see his sad face.
"please don't let him get to you, baby. he's always been mean and controlling that way, and he only said that to get under my skin."
"well..." he sighs. "did it get under your skin?"
"have i ever done or said anything to indicate that i'm worried about our age difference?" you take his face in your right hand and make him face you. "aaron."
he shakes his head no. "okay. you're just letting him into your head. you're not even that much older than me. 32 and 45 is not that bad, i promise. it's not like i'm 19 and you're 60." he cracks a smile at that.
with his face still in your hand, you use it to guide his lips to yours and then you move to kiss all over his face, leaving loud wet kissing sounds as you go.
he laughs, craning his neck to get away from you. "okay, okayokayokay-"
"if anything about our relationship ever bothers me, you know i'll always talk to you about it. okay? i promise." you kiss him again.
he nods his head. "i know."
a moment of silence passes before you talk again.
"so... you wanna roleplay? can you be my hot older grey haired professor and i can be your bratty little student." you wiggle your eyebrows at him.
he groans your name laughing and pushes you off of him, you slide off his shirtless body in your own laughter.
"i do not have grey hair yet."
"you have a grey eyelash! you also have gre-"
you don't even get to finish your sentence because he's wacked you in the face with one of the extra pillows on the bed, still laughing and telling you to go to sleep.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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complains about being “fat”, someone asks about chubby reader and you say you don’t have them lmao like I said a few weeks ago you are so fake you pretend to be pro active and supportive then write skinny people fanfic for your virgin agenda
i literally have posted stuff but tumblr tags dont work lmao
She gets many texts and calls from Sherlock. She sends him one text message: When I want to talk, I will. He does not call or text her after that, though she can imagine given the number of times he has tried to contact her, he still wants to. She is not grateful for the space he gives her because she should not have to be grateful for someone doing something as simple as respecting her space and agency as a person. It is the least he can do.
