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buckyhoney-library · 3 years

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worst behavior, b.b

A/N: Surprise, i released it earlier than expected! I just- i hope you enjoy, bc this is probably the filthiest thing i've written- i also changed the plot a little bit!

Request: hiiii could i request a one-shot where professor!bucky sees you eyeing his metal arm bc he pushed his sleeves up one hot day and proceeds to keep you after class to do smth abt it? you can make it as kinky as you like, maybe some degrading and breeding if you’re comfortable w that! ugh i’m a whore for professor!bucky

reblogs & likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged

Warnings: 18+, professor!bucky, dom!bucky, age gap (f early 20's), degrading kink, public masturbation, oral (m&f), fingering, spanking, light choking, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, sorry for any missed typos!

Word Count: 4.6k, you already know i get carried away with bucky

You shuffle through the hallways of the historic building. The walls are decorated with paintings and engravings. Students walking in various directions making the hallway crowded and hard to get through. Every now and then, students would stop to talk to friends or professors. This halts the moving traffic, causing jams and irritated groans from other students. The satisfaction sets in when you glance down at the time and notice it’s nine fifty-seven. In three minutes, you’ll be officially late to class.

The other classes you take bore you- making it hard to stay focused. They are the generic first-year classes that everybody dreads. You always end up doodling or drifting in and out of sleep throughout the period- but this class? This is the only class that excites you.

World History with Professor Barnes.

You wake up extra early in the morning to get ready for his class. You put a little more effort into your appearance than the other classes. The thought of the professors and students seeing you in sweats and hoodie didn’t bother you. Professor Barnes’s class on the other hand- you made sure you looked put together. His lecture has you wanting to wear the shortest sundresses with little to nothing underneath them.

Being late to Professor Barnes’s class is frowned upon and requires immediate attention when it becomes excessive. The immediate attention was an after-hours meeting with Professor Barnes to discuss what could possibly be more important than his lecture.

The first time you showed up late, happened to be the first day of class. When you rushed into the lecture hall, your heart nearly stopped by the man in front of you. Brunette hair’s swept back, piercing blue eyes, and a button-up that looked a size too small- showing off his bulging biceps. The fitted navy-blue button-up was rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone. His biceps on full display through the material- showing off the vibranium. You swallowed hard as he began to scold you in front of the entire hall.

“I do not tolerate tardiness. Enough tardies require a private meeting after hours.” His light blue eyes never broke contact with yours, darkening with lust the longer he looks at you- taking you all in.

It was almost as if he was telling you to be late. There is a faint heartbeat between your legs, you cross them in fear he could hear the throbbing from where he stands. You began to daydream about the warm metal wrapped around your throat, while his other fingers were buried inside you. Or the prints that would be left against the flesh of your ass. You nod slowly with the most innocent eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Barnes. I had gotten lost. It will never happen again.” You say innocently, playing up the role- even going as far as pouting your lips.

Bucky’s cock twitched at the sight of your puffed-out lips. Begging to be made an example out of you in front of the class. You smile back at him, patiently waiting to be excused to your seat.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Ms?”

“Y/L/N.” You purr.

“You may find a seat Ms. Y/L/N.”

He looks are you properly, eyeing you up and down. His eyes fixated on your hips, swaying side to side as you walk up the steps, your skirt flapping up behind you- teasing him. Bucky knew you were going to be trouble this semester- and trouble is exactly what you had been for the last month.

You did everything in your power to get him to keep you after class. Bucky is getting more and more fed up with you- acting so innocent. He knew damn well that you want nothing more than to have your pretty little mouth stuffed with his cock- gagging and gasping for breath.

He hates that you are pretending like you had no idea the amount of frustration you are causing him. The amount of self-control Bucky exhibits is astounding. Especially on the days, you come in wearing close to nothing- claiming it was ‘just too hot outside’ or when you sit in the front row with a lollipop in your mouth, exaggerating the moans as you suck the red hard candy.

You straighten out the wrinkles out of the floral baby blue sundress, before turning the knob on the door.

“Ms. Y/L/N. You’re late- again.” Professor Barnes states sternly, not bothering to look at you.

Bucky caught a glimpse out of the side of his eye- you were wearing his favorite dress and knew he couldn’t look at you in the eye without taking you right there.

This is Bucky’s favorite dress. He loves the way it holds your breasts higher and how it hangs over the curve of your ass so nicely.

How much prettier would the dress look across his lap.

Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you when you walk and the dress flows with every step- sometimes a little too much. This grants him a sneak peek of your favorite lacey white panties- or sometimes the lack thereof. He stiffens at the sight of the fabric covering your pretty little cunt, taunting him.

For the past month, all Bucky could think about is that cunt. How tight you’d be around him- hearing you whimper and whine when he finally enters you, stretching you out to fit perfectly. He wonders if you could take him all at once or if he needs to warm you up with his fingers- but the thing he thought about the most: how sweet you must taste. The question alone could get him off.

How desperately he wants a taste of you.

“Mr. Barnes I am sorry-“ You begin to play into your act before he cut you off,

“Find your seat.” He still not bothering to look at you.

Disappointment floods your face from the lack of attention. In an effort for payback, you sit in the first row already pouting. He began the lecture by discussing the homework he had assigned the night before. You reach into your bag, pulling out the folder.

Expecting you to be in your usual spot in the back of the lecture hall, Bucky clenches his jaw at the sight of you sitting with your legs crossed shut in the front row, with your elbows on the small desk and hands cupping your face in boredom. His cock began to stir. Your breasts press together against the thin fabric- that is working extra hard to keep your breasts from being on display for everyone.

You see the frustration written on his face the moment he finally looks at you. You smirk at the successful payback.

The class goes on, but the material bores you. You begin to stare at Professor Barnes. You could hear the small adjustments from the vibranium as he moves about the lecture hall. Your breath hitches when he rolls his sleeves up. His biceps bulging against the fabric, a faint throbbing begins between your legs. You bite the inside of your cheek holding back a whimper. You squirm in your seat, uncrossing your legs to press them together to relieve some pressure.

The sinful thought begins to overtake your mind, only making the throbbing worse by the added arousal pooling against the lace. Checking each side of you, you look to see if there are any other students close enough to you that were about to witness this risky act. There are students staggered behind you, but only a couple dare to sit in the first rows. They are intently listening to their professor- who has his attention on the chalkboard.

You swallow a lump, attempting to steady your breathing. You slip your hand below the desk, resting it on your upper thigh. With one more quick scan of the room, you slip your hand underneath your dress.

You inhale sharply at the contact with your aching cunt. The slow circles you draw over your lacey panties release a wave of pleasure. Your lips part and your eyes flutter. The idea of someone catching you- the idea of him catching you? Made the arousal seep through the material getting on your fingers. You close your eyes dreaming about how Bucky’s fingers would dip between your folds, collecting the arousal and forcing you to taste yourself. You could imagine the pornographic scene play out in your mind, the heavy panting and degrading remarks- your fingers slip inside the thin fragile material. The satisfaction of making direct contact with the bundle of nerves makes it almost impossible to bit back any moans. Instead, you let out silent breaths.

Your imagination continues with his fingers going back between the folds, teasing the entrance- making you whine. Bucky’s other hand groping your breasts harshly. The focus is solely on the clit that throws you hurtling toward your orgasm. You brace yourself for the pleasurable release.

Bucky turns around to flip the page of the textbook when he sees it- sees your legs parted with your middle and ring finger rubbing circles over your clit. He holds his breath, not believing the whore in front of him. Your pants becoming faster and heavier. The pleasure begins to boil over, sending you over the edge. You remove your fingers covering your mouth to muffle the whimpers.

When you come down enough to open your eyes, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach. Red flushing your cheeks and your chest tightens- you have been caught. His jaw hung open in disbelief at what he just witnessed. This is the final straw, touching yourself in class? Cumming in class- in front of him. There is no hiding the growing bulge in his pants.

Bucky slams shut the textbook, The other students sit in confusion at the sudden outburst from their Professor.

“Make sure you read the rest of the chapter. Class dismissed.” He almost growls.

Bucky takes cover at his desk, covering any evidence of an erection. He pulls a random stack of papers to distract himself from the bulge in his pants.

You hurry to pack away your things- you know that you are in a world of trouble and wish to leave the room as fast as possible.

You pull the bag over your shoulder and head straight for the door, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Stay.” His voice booming in the near-empty room.

You freeze in your tracks, holding your breath. You turn around to face the furious man seated behind the desk. The one man that now held all the power to expel you. You feel small and weak the closer you get to his desk. He waits till the last student leaves the room.

“Yes, Professor Barnes?” Anxiety begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

“We need to discuss your behavior. Follow me.” The demand making you shiver.

Your legs wobble as you follow him to the room just off the lecture hall. It is his office. It is bigger than you have imagined it. The smell of oak and cigars filling your lungs the moment you enter. His dark mahogany desk is the focal point of the room. The walls are decorated with artwork he had collected over the years. The dark brown curtains are pulled shut. The only light source being the two standing lamps on reside on each side of his bookshelf. Knick-knacks covering the surfaces of the shelves and desk.

“Sit.” His voice is stern laced with lust.

The restricting fabric of the briefs and pants makes the bulge painful. You sit in the chair in front of his desk with your ankles crossed and hands in your lap.

“First, you’re late to my class.” He is stalks around you- like your prey. His arms crossed tightly against his chest.

“Then, you wear this provocative dress.” Bucky’s fingers glide up your arm, grazing over the thin strap on your shoulder. His touch burning your skin.

“Then, you proceed to touch yourself in the middle of my lecture- cumming all over yourself like a disgusting little whore.” His words starting up the throbbing.

Bucky leans against the edge of the desk and your eyes are fixated on your lap- not daring to make eye contact.

“I have every right to expel you,” You inhale preparing yourself.

“-but I’m not going to.” Your eyes shoot up meeting his.

They’re filled to the brim with lust and desire. You gain a boost of confidence soars through you with the knowledge that you aren’t getting expelled.

He tilts your chin up to him, getting a better look at you. Using your chin to turn your face to each side- examining the mouth that will soon be full of him.

Bucky runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling at it- parting your lips. You push your head forward, taking his thumb in your mouth- closing your lips around him. You hum, innocently locking eyes with him.

You had no idea what you just started.

A devilish grin tugs on the corners of his mouth at the sight of you taking his thumb. You hallow your cheeks, sucking gently.

“What a good little slut.” He purrs. Bucky removes his thumb and stands.

“But, you’re not getting off that easily. Come.”

You stand to your feet moving to stand in front of him. The throbbing increases between your thighs and the arousal seeping through your panties. Bucky looks down at you touching your shoulder and neck. He finally rests his hand on your cheek, rubbing the flesh gently. You swallow, tensing and untensing your jaw. Bucky sense your nerves,

“It’s okay, princess- you’ll only be a little sore.” Your heart skips a beat.

Your panties are now drenched in your wetness and you swear he could hear the throbbing. You dreamt for this day. He pulls your lips to his. Finally meeting yours. It is slow and passionate; you didn’t know if you could touch him- but he has his hands holding the sides of your face.

“On your knees.” His voice is low and dark.

You drop to your knees. You’re now eye to eye with his bulge. The hardened cock makes your mouth water. You lick your lips, looking at him before you reach for his belt. He nods granting you permission. The belt is undone along with the button of his dress pants. Your slow movements have Bucky in a trance. His eyes don’t leave you.

You tug the pants down, his length still trapped behind the black briefs. You feel his length and hear a low groan escapes his mouth. You place small pecks on top of the clothed member. You are salivating with every kiss, growing more eager. The underwear is pulled down, freeing the aggravated cock. It’s red and looks like it is going to burst within seconds. The girth and length surprises you and you begin to wonder if you can even fit him inside you- let alone your mouth. Nerves build within you and hesitantly look up at Professor Bucky.

“I don’t know if it will fit,” Your voice is quiet, he chuckles and lifts your chin once more.

“Make it fit.” His voice is just above a whisper, but dark and stern.

At that moment you realize that this wasn’t going to be a quick punishment. He is going to make you wish you never wore short dresses, late to his class, or cum in front of him. Bucky licks his lips in awe of how beautiful you looked kneeling in front of him. All the fantasies are about to come true.

You take his length in your small hands; you use both hands to warm him up- slowly building him up. The strokes begin slow and sloppy. Your thumb going over his tip. It’s angry and swollen, it’s begging to be drained. You rub small circles around it- mimicking your movements from earlier. Bucky’s breathing becomes slow pants. The pleasure building with each stroke.

You mentally prepare yourself, collecting all the saliva you could to the front of your mouth. You flicker your eyes up, the grin that grows on his face as you close your lips around his tip encourages you. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping the strands at the root.

“Yes, take my cock in your mouth you filthy slut.” You hum around him.

He begins to slowly push your head closer to his pelvis, forcing you to take more of him. You were only halfway down his shaft when you gripped his thighs for support. Your ankles are crossed behind you and you are leaning back sitting on your feet.

Bucky didn’t care about staying silent. His low grunts and heavy pants left his lips as he grips your hair. The pure bliss he is experiencing is unlike anyone he’s had before. Based on your performance, he knew that you have had experience before. The thought of other men in your mouth drove him insane. His grip on your hair guides your mouth up and down his cock. He became more aggressive with his grip, quickening his pace.

“I just know you’ve been dreaming about my cock filling your mouth, hm? You’re such a stupid slut- wanting to suck your professor’s cock,” He moans.

You’re gagging on his length, trying your hardest to keep from pulling off of him. You hallow your cheeks adding extra pleasure and using one hand to pump the length while he guides your head. The longer you’re taking him in your mouth the less air you’re getting, the veins in your neck become prominent. You dig your nails into his thigh. Bucky hisses at the feeling of your nails sinking into his skin.

“That’s right, princess. You feel so good around my cock,” He purrs watching the tears forming from in the corners of your eyes.

You can’t take anymore without feeling like you were going to choke. Bucky feels the resistance of you attempting to pull off of him. He pushes your head fully down his length, causing a pornographic moan to leave his lips. Bucky yanks the roots of your hair, ripping you off his length. You gasp for air and cough at the sudden ability to breathe. Saliva coats your lips and his thighs.

“You better finish what you started.” Bucky hisses,

You nod wiping your mouth. This time around, he has precum oozing from his tip. You gather it with your thumb and coat the rest of his length, using it as lubrication. You take him once more, this time using both hands and your mouth. The combo is enough to send Bucky into orbit, but when you start sucking his tip and swirling your tongue around it- he knew it would be a matter of seconds before he would release his load.

“You taste so good, Professor.” You hum against his tip, your movements become faster- not bothering with a slow build.

Bucky grips the edge of the desk, you hear the vibranium cracking through the wood. The sound only eggs you on. The sounds of your slurping and moans, cause Bucky to twitch inside your mouth- signaling he is gonna cum at any moment.

Within seconds your mouth is filled with strings of cum. Bucky’s hips buck as your mouth continues to suck him off. The taste of him has become addicting, you want every last drop of him. You pull off of him, wiping up the spilled cum on your chin. Sucking it off of your finger.

“Shit, princess. You did so well finishing every drop.” He pulls you up from your knees.

“-but that doesn’t mean you’re done. You still need to be punished for your behavior in class. Do you understand?” You nod.

Bucky walks behind his desk. You follow, nervous about what your punishment will be.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Y/N. Bend over.” You do as you say.

Your breast smush against the dark wood, your eyes fixated on the photographs of him with family and friends. You smirk to yourself and look back at him. Bucky’s fingers trail up the backs of your thighs. He lifts the pretty blue sundress, finally seeing that perfect ass up close. Bucky’s cock throbs again when he sees that the underwear you’re wearing the cheeky white lace. So innocent, he thought. Bucky runs his palm over the meaty flesh, gripping and jiggling it. He moans at its effortless movement.

“Fuck!” You yelp, his palm makes contact with your ass cheek.

“I told you, princess. You need to be punished. Count them.” Another rough smack.

“Two.” The tears returning to your eyes, but the pleasure overpowers the pain.

You arch your back, wiggling your ass higher in the air, this time, he is able to get a sneak peek of the covered cunt that lived in his mind.

“Three,” This time, your eyes roll back and you’re seeing stars.

Bucky takes notice of just how soaked you are. He pulls the lace with his metal fingers, tearing through them in an effortless tug. The strings of arousal follow the fabric as it is thrown to the ground.

“Oh? You like getting punished? You soaked through your panties. You really are a fucking whore.” He runs his middle finger down your center, your body twitches once he reaches your swollen and needy clit. Bucky kneels, coming face to face with the glistening beauty. His dream is coming to a reality, he is finally going to taste you.

His tongue dips between your folds, causing you to gasp at the unexpected pleasure. Your ass is still in the air and his hands are gripping your inner thigh, pulling them apart, allowing more access to your sopping cunt.

“Just like I imagined it, so fucking sweet.” He is breathless, the taste of you becomes his new favorite flavor.

Bucky’s tongue licks up the access arousal and his thumb rubs small circles around your clit, making you whine against his desk. His mouth begins to place open mouth kisses against you, his tongue dipping inside you. You need something to grip and release the pent-up pleasure but result to releasing through you moans and whines. It is music to Bucky’s ears.

He pulls away from your dripping cunt, kicking your legs open, spreading them- giving him the best access he could get. His mouth returns to you. But this time giving full attention to your clit.

“I’m too big for your hole, princes. I have to stretch you out.” You whine, as his middle and ring finger slide inside you.

You’re a whimpering mess on his desk as his mouth and fingers switched places. His fingers stretching you out and his mouth on your clit. Bucky moans into you at the feeling of your pussy pulsating against his fingers. You are in pure bliss as he pumps his fingers, occasionally curling- hitting the spongey flesh of your g-spot. He swirls his tongue around your clit, sucking on it and releasing it with a pop. You feel yourself hurdling towards your orgasm. The pulsating becomes quicker, and the moans are now endless streams. Bucky knew you’re close to cumming around his fingers, but you had already came today. He removes his fingers and mouth in one swoop, leaving you breathless and irritated.

“You already came today; only well-behaved whores get to cum.”

You stare back at him in anger. Your cheeks are flushed red and you’re panting like you just ran a marathon. He takes amusement at the sight of you looking like a mess.

“Professor, please! I’ve been a good girl!” You whine, wiggling your ass backwards.

“I’ll think about it. It depends on how well you take this cock, princess.” You nod your head, bracing yourself.

Bucky pumps himself a few times before he slides his tip against your cunt. You dreamed of the moment you would feel him inside you. Him sliding into you and filling you up. The need and desire overtaking you and bucking your hips into his cock.

“I said to be good.” A more aggressive smack lands on your ass, this time he used the vibranium. You yelp in pain, knowing there is going to be a handprint on your ass. Branding you.

You gasp at the sudden fullness.

“I was going to be gentle, since you are not used to a cock as big as me, but since you want to be an inpatient slut- now I’m not going too.” Bucky rams his cock into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size.

He grunts at the sound of your whines and whimpers. He grips your hips using it to increase his speed. The purple and red marks form, where his fingers dig into you. Bucky groans at how tight you feel around him. The resistance from your walls getting him closer and closer.

Bucky continues at his pace while, but this time gripping the back of your neck. He tugs you back, lifting you. Your hands palm down on the desk, using it as stability. One of his hands pins your hands behind your back. Bucky pulls you back, flushing your bodies together. His fingers wrap around your neck. Your head falls back against his shoulder moaning at the sensation of his fingers around your throat. Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t slow down now that you’re standing. Your legs are still wide allowing him to go deep and hard.

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, you know that?” You couldn’t even think.

You have entered another world. Your hands are still pinned behind you and your eyes are rolling back from the feeling of his other. All you could do is moan and sink into his cock.

“Fucking yourself in front of the class and cumming all over yourself- you fucking loved the idea of getting caught huh? I bet you would love someone to walk through that door and catch me fucking your sweet cunt.”

His words only push you further into nirvana. Your legs begin to feel weak, and the responsibility of standing is becoming too much. Bucky notices the sudden inability to stand.

“You gonna cum, princess?” You are barely able to function. You moan in response and he thrusts quicken- if that is even possible.

“Cum, princess. Cum around my cock,”

You see stars as a wave of pleasure washes overtakes you and you feel pure ecstasy. Your cunt contracts around his cock, sending Bucky over the edge. His cock pulsating and shoot loads of cum inside you, filling you once more.

“Fuck!” He moans one last time.

He collapses on top of you. Your hands catching your bodies as you lay pressed against his desk once again. Bucky pulls himself out of you, leaking with cum. You whimper at the sudden loss of fullness.

Your legs felt weak and standing on your own seemed like an impossible task. You are trying to catch your breath. The high cooling off and you regain the ability to talk.

You push yourself up, feeling the cum run onto your inner thigh. Bucky grabs a handful of tissues, wiping away the cum. He helps you sit down on his chair. Your breathing finally slows and the adrenaline wears off. You begin to feel the aftermath of every mark and muscle. You groan as you try to move from the seat.

Bucky walks over to you handing you a bottle of water and switches places with you, so you are now on his lap.

“I told you would be a little sore,” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your temple.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #professor!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

His Lovely Girl.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Requested: nope

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: Sebastian spoils her all the time. What has she ever done for him? When someone leaves a rude comment under her Instagram post, she can't help but rethink her entire relationship with the handsome actor.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! We're back to Marvel lol, enjoy!

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"I'll see you later, dove, have fun!" Y/N grinned when her boyfriend leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Bye, Seb, I'll miss you," she whispered and he looked down at her, his heart swelling in his chest, full of appreciation for her. He loved her so much. "I'll miss you too, Y/N, but I'll only be gone for around 6 hours." Y/N pouted and he couldn't help it.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I know. Go now, I don't want to be the reason you're late." He laughed heartily when she pushed him away with a smile. "Oh, doll, everyone knows about us, they'll know anyway." With that, he waved at her and left the apartment they shared. Y/N had moved in with him 2 years into dating.

Sebastian Stan; let's just say, he was a busy man. Y/N sighed and got up from the bed, feeling hungry. They had started dating 4 years ago, and what years those were; the most blissful ones in both their lives. They loved each other to death, and they knew that. Y/N waddled into the kitchen and looked around the various cabinets, finding a box of Mac and Cheese.

It was a funny story, actually, how they met. Y/N, at the time, was working as a barista at Starbucks. One day, Sebastian had walked into the Starbucks where she worked, and she was the one who took his order. He was extremely polite, funny and a bit awkward and just like that, she fell in love with him all over again. Y/N was a Marvel geek and Sebastian had noticed.

"I really like your hoodie, doll, where'd you get it?" he had asked her after telling her his order. And she had looked down, seeing the custom-made hoodie she wore. It was black in colour, but one of the sleeves was silver and had a red star on the bicep, just like his arm from the movie Captain America: Winter Soldier.

Bucky's trigger words were printed on the front of the hoodie. She had blushed furiously, simultaneously cursing and thanking her fate and coincidence. "I had it custom made," she had told him at the time and he had grinned so wide he thought his mouth would tear open. That was the moment where he, too, realized that he was getting a crush on the pretty barista.

And he hadn't hesitated to ask her for her number. He had taken a tissue paper, scribbled his number down and had written what's yours? ;) underneath. When he went to pay for his coffee, he purposely made sure that he wasn't giving her any change. With his notes, he slid her the tissue and she took it, giving him a confused look.

When she read it, her breath hitched. While pulling out his change, she had discreetly written her number down on the tissue, saved his on her phone and had given the tissue back to him with the coins. Both of them had grinned widely at each other when he left. While walking home, he had taken out the tissue and had seen her number written neatly under his. And his heart raced, Y/N is worth it.

---

*@yn_yln posted a photo*

4,583 likes

yn_yln Mac and Cheese, anyone? :D

Y/N smiled and logged out of her Instagram account after posting the photo. She just couldn't resist; she looked good that day, one of those days where she felt confident enough to post a picture. She kept her phone away and sauntered into the sitting room to watch something on the television. An hour passed before she yawned, feeling tired.

2:05 pm, her watch displayed. Well, there's no harm in an afternoon nap, am I right? Sebastian wasn't home anyway, and it's not like she had anything to do. Grabbing her phone off the dining table, she walked into hers and Sebastian's shared bedroom, plopping down on the bed. She decided to check her Instagram before falling asleep and opened the said app.

She went through the page that displayed all the likes and comments, pausing at one comment. Her heart dropped as she clicked on the comment, her entire being filling with an uneasy feeling. You're only dating him for the money, admit it. Until then, she had never even thought… about that. Throwing her phone to the side she sat up, breathing heavily.

Y/N was currently jobless. After they started going out, she continued working at Starbucks until last year; Sebastian had suggested that she leave the job and work somewhere better, earn a higher salary. Y/N had discarded the idea at first, since the job paid enough for her to go about her daily things and where would she even find another job?

Starbucks was okay. But Sebastian wouldn't hear it. So she left the job, now jobless. She had applied to a few places but hadn't received any news as of yet. They're right. I'm living off of him. I don't even have a job. What does it look like? A broke woman dating a rich, handsome guy? Oh my God, am I leeching off his hard work? All those thoughts rushed through her head in a span of a few seconds.

The more she thought about it, the more she teared up. Blinking the tears away, she lay back down and curled up under the comfortable blankets. His blankets. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to fall asleep but the tears were proving it to be difficult. Fortunately, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber 15 minutes later.

---

"Baby, I'm home!"

Silence. Sebastian frowned, carefully walking into the house. "Y/N?" he called out but there was no answer. Keeping the bag he was holding away, he walked further into the apartment, stopping at the doorway of their bedroom. "Aw," he whispered under his breath, smiling, stepping into the bedroom. He gently sat next to his sleeping girlfriend.

His knuckles traced her cheeks but he froze. Why is she so cold? His soft touch was enough to wake her up, because she stirred and blinked up at him. "Seb, hi, welcome back." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Did you fall sick?" he asked worriedly as she sat up, distancing herself from him. "I'm not sick," she muttered but Sebastian wouldn't buy it.

He reached out to cup her cheek, feeling like he had been stabbed multiple times when she leaned away from his touch. "Y/N?" She shook her head and looked out of the window, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just wanna be alone right now." She didn't want to send him away. She wanted to sit in his lap, listen to him rambling about his day…

But she also didn't want to be near him. Do I even deserve him? "What happened?" he insisted, his eyes going wide when she glared at him. "Go. Away." He scrambled off the bed without another word, softly closing the door behind him as he walked into the sitting room, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the couch and looked around.

What happened in those 6 hours that he was away? Sebastian knew she wasn't on her cycle, it still had another week to come. So it wasn't mood swings. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of Mac and Cheese sitting on the dining table but they skimmed right past it, not knowing that that bowl was the reason for Y/N's sadness. Then he stared at the designer handbag on the opposite couch.

Picking up the bag, he strode back to their room, knocking on the door. Maybe seeing a pretty purse would lighten her mood? "What?" Y/N called out from inside and he opened the door, holding the purse up. "I brought you a gift." Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest and tears glistened in her eyes anew as she stared at the bag with utmost resentment.

"I don't want it."

Sebastian went rigid. She never rejects my gifts. "Y/N—" She started shaking her head. "No. Return it. I'm not taking it. I don't want it," she repeated, her glare now directed at him. "But doll…" he tried, freezing when her jaw clenched. "Get out." Disheartened, he walked out once more, more confused than anything. Now I have to know what happened.

Inside the room, Y/N sobbed silently. The bag was so pretty, her favorite color, the sleek design… she wanted to keep it so bad, but she knew she wasn't worthy of it. Sebastian brought her gifts all the time. Most of them expensive as shit; he had the money to blow off. What had she done for him? Nothing, really. He spoiled her heartily, never once allowing her to do the same.

"You're mine, baby girl, mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to spoil."

She was definitely leeching off him. Outside the room, Sebastian took out his phone and texted Y/F/N, who was Y/N's closest friend. They rarely spoke, but Y/N told Y/F/N everything and he knew she'd have answers.

hey, do you know what's up with y/n

why what happened

she's in a really bad mood

she's angry at me and I brought her a gift but she won't take it

she usually loves them but today…

OH WAIT

I know what happened

she texted me in the afternoon

something about a comment on Instagram or something

ig that's why she's in a bad mood

thanks

I'll check it out

He ended the conversation and opened Instagram, seeing a new post from his dear girlfriend. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he liked the photo, commenting a heart emoji. There were only around 22 comments on the post, so he decided to go through them. Which comment had triggered her? He found it instantly and his nostrils flared.

Replying to the fairly rude comment, he typed, how about you fuck off and mind your own damn business? If you don't like her, unfollow and leave. There's literally nothing else you need to do. After hitting send, he kept his phone away and, determination shining in his eyes, ran back to the bedroom.

He threw open the door and a sob escaped the lips of the startled woman. He started taking off the annoying clothes he was wearing until he was just in his boxers, sliding into the bed next to her. She attempted to push him away but the strong man didn't budge, holding her on his lap as she thrashed. Soon, she gave up the fight and melted against him, crying her eyes out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again and again, her breath hitching. "Hush, baby, it's okay, I'm not mad," he whispered, rubbing her back, helping her calm down. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms tight around him. "Tell me the truth. What happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Tiredly, Y/N narrated everything; from the comment to all her insecurities.

Sebastian gently cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears off. "Y/N, you're mine. I love taking care of you, I love spoiling you, and I don't do it because I expect something in return, I do it because I love you. Don't listen to strangers on the internet, what better work do they have? Nothing but lowlifes. You don't have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything for me."

"But Seb…"

"No. No, you're my girlfriend and only the best for my girl. I love all the gifts you get me. I cherish them wholeheartedly. Just you being my girl is a gift better than anything else in the world, to be honest. But I'm going to continue looking after you whether you like it or not. You don't even have to go to work, I'm here for you. I love you." Y/N teared up again.

They were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she cried weakly and Sebastian pulled her to him, cradling her head, breathing her in. "I love you too, doll. Now will you take my gift, please?" She nodded against him and he gently lowered her on the bed, going outside to get the bag. Once back in their room he handed the bag to her, smiling at the way her eager hands reached up to accept the gift.

As he watched her admiring the bag, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, till death do them part.

His girl, his lovely girl.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

849 notes · View notes

mercurygguk · 3 years

Text

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends.

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her.

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

1K notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years

Text

Cuddle Buddies | Peter Parker

summary ↠ you’re touch-starved, Peter’s your best friend, and there’s a whole lot of unresolved romantic tension between you; friends to lovers.

word count ↠ 3.4k

warnings ↠ uh oh.... there’s only one bed..? additionally maybe two swear words? also copious amounts of fluff lmao

a/n ↠ so apparently I really wanna cuddle Peter Parker. wbk. this is very cute and made me so soft when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it! please let me know if you have any thoughts :D

“God damn, MJ, I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t get a hug soon.”

You’re rambling, your voice full of heavy frustration. Your hair is unkempt and messy from all the times you’ve run your fingers through it, and you stare at Michelle with a wild look in your eyes that makes her press a hand to her hips and laugh lightly.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really good at being dramatic, Y/N?” She replies casually, causing you to mock an outraged gasp. You sit down at the lunch table together, setting down your trays in front of you.

You manage a glare at your friend. “You’re so mean to me,” you whine. “You don’t understand how desperate I am.”

MJ narrows her eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to die from lack of human contact,” she chimes.

“Who’s dying?”

You startle as a third, familiar voice joins the conversation, and crane your neck to see Peter slipping into the open seat beside you. He gives you an easy smile that stretches all the way to his soft, lovely brown eyes, and you feel your heart ache.

“No one’s dying,” Michelle replies. When Peter shoots her an inquisitive look, she adds, “Y/N thinks she’s going to perish if she doesn’t find someone to hug.”

You scowl at MJ, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to let the embarrassment show on your face. It’s one thing to have this conversation with MJ - your close friend and number one confidant - but Peter? It’s an entirely different story. He may be your best friend, but your feelings are far more than simply platonic when it comes to him.

“Oh…” Peter looks at you curiously, his eager eyes darting over your face. He leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands, looking utterly adorable with his face pulled into a cute smile. His grin widens as you meet his gaze, and he nods knowingly. “Hugs are nice.”

You nod in appreciative agreement. “Exactly!”

MJ just rolls her eyes. “You guys are so weird.”

Ned joins the table and begins talking to MJ about a chemistry project, and Peter turns to you properly.

“Hey, so, are we still on for that study session later?” He asks you, his teeth briefly gliding across his lower lip. You try not to focus too much on the curve of his mouth, but it’s very difficult.

“Um, yeah,” you squeak, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as you remember the arrangement you’d made with Peter earlier in the week. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours?” Peter suggests.

“Okay. My parents are still away on business, so it’ll just be us. Is that okay?”

Your friend nods his head, his fluffy brown curls shifting around his face. “Sounds great.” Peter gives you a nervous smile, and it sets your heart racing. “I can’t wait.”

-----

Peter turns up a little after 7pm, a box of pizza in his hands. You spend a while chatting and watching Star Wars, and then eventually pull yourselves around to studying. You opt for your bedroom, with its very comfortable fluffy carpet, and you spread out all of your notebooks and pens around you before lying on your stomach and lazily flicking through your notes. But you can’t quite focus because something is amiss.

Peter is acting very oddly tonight. And he’s normally a little hyperactive, but it’s as if he’s on another level entirely. He keeps glancing up to you, then looking away the moment you bring your eyes up to meet his, and he hasn’t stopped drumming his fingers over the front of his maths textbook all night. You’re already nervous enough being around him, alone and within such close proximity to him, and his antics aren’t helping you at all.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on Peter Parker. Possibly. But you’d never tell him that.

“Pete,” you say, reaching breaking point when you catch him staring at your face for the fifth time in one minute. You sit up and turn to look at him, meeting his guilty, rose-tinted face. “What’s going on? You seem so unsettled. Are you okay?”

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times, his eyes meeting yours nervously. His voice is more a squeak than anything else as he says, suddenly, “Do you want to cuddle me?”

You blink, totally blindsided by the change in topic.

“Uh, cuddle you?”

“Um, I mean, sorry, that’s such a weird thing to just come out and say, I- I just remembered earlier, with MJ, what she was saying, and I was wondering if you’d want to hug me, if you- if you want a hug so badly.” Peter breaks off, a disgruntled groan coming up his throat as he buries his flushed face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Y/N, shit, that was such a weird thing to ask. Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

You chuckle, your lips pulling into a wide smile. “You would let me hug you?” You ask gently. Peter parts his fingers and looks at you through the gaps, nodding slightly. “I’d like that, Peter.”

He looks so shocked by your statement that it brings another quiet laugh from your mouth. “O-Okay.” Peter clumsily opens his arms. “Um, here?”

It’s painfully awkward at first. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, his back resting up against the mattress, so you have to do a weird sort of crawl over to him, feeling his wide, anxious eyes pressing onto your figure the whole way. It doesn’t help that you’re practically shaking from nerves now.

You’ve known Peter since the start of high school, but you’ve not really hugged him before. The most you’ve shared is a brief celebratory high-five after acing a biology presentation together, and even that contact had lingered in your mind for days after. The concept of crawling up to and hugging your crush makes your palms sweaty and your mind a numb anxious mess, but you do it, because it’s Peter, and the opportunity to cuddle up next to him is so enticing you think you’d do anything just to feel his arms around your body.

The angle is difficult, but Peter spreads his legs out across the carpet and pats his thighs, and you realise he wants you to straddle his lap, so you clamber into his hold gently. He’s sturdy beneath you, with a pair of dark denim jeans stretched over his firm thighs, and he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in. You let your hands find his sides, and then you settle into a very close, very intimate hug with your best friend.

It’s lovely.

He smells of soft bubbles and peppermint, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, partly because it’s comfortable, but mostly because you don’t want him to see the massive, embarrassing grin fixed to your mouth. Your heartbeat’s going crazy - you can feel it pressing against your ribs almost painfully, and it only doubles in speed as Peter’s hands move slowly across your back, rubbing large, soothing circles over your hoodie. You savour the moment, your eyes closed as you enjoy just being held by your best friend.

“Is this okay?” Peter asks, after a few moments.

You hum against his neck, squeezing his torso softly. He’s wearing one of Midtown’s navy hoodies, and it feels particularly soft against your forehead. “Thanks, Pete,” you mumble, enjoying the moment entirely too much. “You’re really good at hugs, you know that?”

“You’re also a very nice hugger,” Peter replies. You swallow deeply as you feel him tighten his grip on your sides and pull you even closer.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to be held,” you find yourself saying. You’re starting to feel really comfortable now, and find yourself relaxing and shifting further into him.

“Definitely.” His voice is still ringing at a higher pitch than you’re used to, but you put it down to the late evening hour. “Um, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“If you, uh, ever need another hug, you can always text me.”

You’re so glad you have your face buried in Peter’s warm neck because the grin latched to your lips is so large you think you’d die from embarrassment if your friend could see how giddy his words make you feel.

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks, Pete.” You pause for a moment, and take stock of the way he seems to be clinging to you just as tightly as you are to him. “You can always text me too, if you ever want a hug. Or anything, really.” You manage to collapse your smile so it’s more of a weak grin, and you pull back to look at Peter. His hands fall down to loosely grasp at your hips, and you find him looking at you with warm, attentive eyes and a wide smile hanging from his pink lips.

He looks so cute, and relaxed, and perfect, and you really can’t believe your luck that you’re sitting holed up in his arms just now.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles shyly, eyes flittering across every part of your face. “You’re a great friend.”

You deserve an Oscar for maintaining the smile on your face, despite the way his words stab painfully at your heart.

“You too, Pete,” you mutter. “The best friend ever.”

The air between you holds just a little too much tension, so you shift and push your face back into his shoulder, hugging him again. Peter’s arms tighten around your waist, and you sigh softly, revelling in rare the feeling of him so close to you, even if it isn’t under the circumstances you crave. You’d take anything Peter could offer you, even if it makes your heart ache.

------

It easily becomes a habit.

Soon enough, it’s been three months, and you’re spending almost every evening with Peter. The more you meet up, the more natural folding into his arms becomes, and soon you find that your favourite parts of the day are the moments you share curled up together.

Sharing affection with Peter is easy, but it comes at a cost - it ties your heart up in knots to spend so much time pressed up against his chest, acting so intimately with him, but then to pull back and go back about your day like nothing really happened. Every second you spend hugging him hurts you because your heart yearns so deeply to have more, but you just can’t bring yourself to tell him how you feel. You value your friendship with Peter too much to risk ruining it all because of a stupid crush, and you’re not ready to stop your evening shenanigans, so you decide to just put up with it and suffer in silence.

A few months into your arrangement, you find yourself at Peter’s when the power across the city goes out in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Holy shit,” you mutter, shivering as you glance outside and see a flash of sharp lightning cut across the city. The rain pelts down against the pavements so loudly that you can hear it through the gap in the window. You turn and look at Peter, wide-eyed. “Bet you’re glad the Stark internship let you leave earlier than usual today. I’m not looking forward to walking back in that later.”

“Y/N, you can’t go home in the middle of a thunderstorm, especially if the power is out,” Peter tells you firmly, his arms crossing over his chest. He looks so cute with his eyebrows scrunched into a caring scowl that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Stay here tonight. May’s out of town, but I can sleep on the sofa. I don’t want you to go across the city by yourself at the moment.”

You bite your lower lip, eyeing the slants of rain that pour over Queens. “It does look pretty horrible out there,” you admit. Your expression shifts into guilt as you eye Peter closely. “You can’t sleep on the sofa, though. I will.”

“No, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Peter, it’s your apartment, I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Then join me.”

“In your bed? With you?”

“Yes.” Peter’s face is a bright red as he flusters, “Um, only if you’re comfortable with that though, Y/N. You don’t have to. I just thought that- because, y’know, we’re kinda… close now, you might want to. But you don’t-”

“I want to,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can think them through properly. You’re rendered utterly incapable of sensible thought, because Peter’s looking at you so intently that it whips the breath straight out of your lungs. “Really, Pete, that would be nice, if you’re sure you don’t mind..?”

“No! I want to,” he replies. Peter runs his delicate fingers through his brown waves, pushing his strands away from his face easily. His smile is gentle, and it grows as you return it shyly. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

You make light conversation as you both get ready for bed together. Peter even finds you a spare toothbrush in the cabinet beneath the sink, and you pull faces at him in the mirror as you brush your teeth together side by side. It feels so domestic, but also incredibly comfortable and normal, and you decide that you feel more at home by Peter’s side than you do anywhere else in the world. You realise that maybe you’d just been deluding yourself each time you’d dismissed your feelings for him as simply a crush. Maybe, your feelings run a lot deeper for your friend - far deeper than you’d ever intended for them to grow. Because you realise, as Peter laughs loudly when you pull a face at him in the mirror, that your feelings for the boy have taken firm root in your heart, and you’re absolutely fucking in love with him.

“So, um, I normally sleep on the left side, but I can swap if you want that side,” Peter tells you. The power has finally come back on and the weather has cleared up, but neither of you comment on it as he closes his bedroom door behind you and gestures at his nice, gingham-patterned bedspread.

“I can go on the right side,” you offer.

Peter turns off the light and you both shuffle to your respective sides of his bed. You’ve been in his room a thousand times before, but you’ve never ventured beneath his lovely soft covers, and you find yourself sighing slightly as you shuffle beneath the duvet. His pillows are light and feathery, and your head sinks into them easily.

He seems intent to stay as far away from you as possible, and he clings to the far edge of the mattress. It brings a frown to your mouth, but you let him be; if that’s where he has to be in order to feel comfortable, then you’ll let him stay there. Just because you feel something else fluttering about in your heart for him, does not mean he feels the same way - even if you were sure he’d been hugging you a little closer, recently, and staring at your lips more than he used to. But maybe that was all in your head.

“Do you need anything?” Peter asks slowly. You stare up at his ceiling, your eyes taking in the dark curves of his smooth roof.

“No,” you reply. “Your bed is very comfortable.”

You hear the sheets ruffle as Peter slowly turns over. You fold over onto your side and find yourself facing him, his bright eyes twinkling slightly beneath the light that streams in from the city outside. He looks very cute, with the duvet bunched up beneath his chin and his fluffy hair all messy and waved out across his forehead, and it makes you happy to see him so relaxed and free. Sometimes it feels as though Peter carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you’d give anything to see him gentle and carefree like this. It makes you feel a surge of pride to know you can give him just a little bit of peace.

“Yeah, I dunno where May got the mattress but it’s amazing.” Peter breaks off, shifting around a little, and you freeze up when you feel his hand brush against yours beneath the covers. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he mutters, immediately jerking his hand back. You can just about make out the dark flush of his cheeks.

“‘S okay,” you murmur, biting your lower lip. A beat passes, and then you add, “We hug all the time, Peter. You can touch me, y’know.”

He takes it as an invitation, and he tenderly reaches out. His warm hand finds the curve of your waist, and you stay remarkably still as he slowly shuffles a little closer.

“Is this okay?” Peter whispers into the air.

“Yeah.”

Finally you unstick, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You shift towards him, as if magnetised, and your hand goes up to rest on his side, too. His t-shirt feels soft beneath your hold, and you find your mind reeling as you take in his warmth, his scent, his touch.

Peter’s face is very near you now. Your legs are tangled together. Your head shifts onto his pillow, and suddenly he’s holding you flush against him, your noses almost touching.

“Y/N,” he says slowly. His eyes are wide and nervous, and they keep dipping down to settle on the curve of your lips.

“Pete,” you respond, your voice fragile. You can hardly keep still, for how nervous you’re feeling now. He’s pulled you right against him, and for the first time, you question whether your feelings are actually one sided. His warm fingers burn against your side, tracing delicate circles over the material of your borrowed shirt. “You’re really close.”

“Do you want me to move?” You’ve never heard him like this before: all warm, and gentle, and inviting. It ignites a whirlwind of butterflies inside your chest, and you really can’t stop yourself from saying, quietly,

“I want you to kiss me.”

Peter’s lips are on yours before you know it. Soft, at first, and a little bit bumpy and awkward. But he loosens up as you reach up and wrap your fingers around his hair, and you kiss him back with all that you have. Peter pulls you closer as you kiss him deeply, savouring the feeling of his warm, pillowy lips and enjoying the way your heart blooms in your chest as your best friend kisses you back. He releases a small noise of enjoyment into your mouth as you nibble over his bottom lip, and then he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you’re making out, your figures lazily intertwined.

It feels so right to be kissing Peter that you briefly wonder why you’ve never tried this out before.

“I, um, I really like you, Y/N,” Peter whispers against you, when you finally pull back. Your lips tingle as you giggle into the air, your fingertips trailing through the soft strands of his chestnut hair. “In fact, I… I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Your mouth runs dry, and all you can really do to stop the tears of relief from slipping out of your eyes is lean in and kiss him again, hard. You kiss him like you’ve been dreaming about for months: slowly, passionately and lovingly - growing in tempo as you fervently try to convey everything you’ve kept hidden away inside your heart.

When you break away, you keep your lips nuzzled against his and breathe out a deep, “I love you too, Peter.”

You giggle together, and you feel so overcome with adoration for the boy that you simply have to kiss him again.

“D’you want to go on a date with me?” Peter asks gently, between gaps in your soft kisses. You finally move away from his lips and settle nearer, your forehead finding his chest as his arms encircle your waist and he holds you close in a warm, consuming cuddle.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Peter,” you mumble against his front. You smile softly as you feel his lips trail across your forehead, and your heart stirs happily in your chest.

“Okay,” he says, sounding immediately relieved. “I’m excited.”

You hum sleepily into his chest, your fingers curling around his strong back. “Me too,” you mumble.

“Night night, Y/N,” he says, his voice already being carried away as you drift further into dreamland. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Pete,” you reply. You know nothing else will compare to the feeling of being holed up in your best friends arms, with his lips scattering a dusting of kisses across your forehead, and you try to cling desperately to every single moment and sensation. “Sweet dreams.”

Peter leaves a final kiss on your forehead, and then you drift off to sleep with him, your figures entangled, and, for the first time, your hearts beating together as one.

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

any feedback?

masterlist

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfic #peter!friends to lovers #friends to lovers

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side-writes-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Late-night talks || One-shot

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader

Word count: ≈2000

Genre: it was supposed to be angst but it's really just fluff

Tw: Sukuna is kinda ooc, ngl

Summary: usually, you'd talk to Yuuji during the nights you felt restless but today, it was very much different. One night started a habit that definitely shouldn't have started.

Feel free to leave a or two or more request in my asks!

Masterpost | Asks/Requests

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

(Y/N) walked down the long dormitory halls, her insomniac brain refused to allow her to rest after the hard day she’d had. On one hand, it was fantastic, filled with thrill and learning opportunities! On the other, however, the girl had gone through so much intense training and failure that she wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep. And yet, the thoughts in her head flew and a high speed and there was no way in hell that they would stop any time soon. So, as any sane person would do, instead of reading a book or being productive and taking the time to practise some techniques that wouldn’t blow the entire room up, (Y/N) decided to knock on Itadori’s room door and mess his sleep up as well.

Her hands made contact with the wood once. Then quickly twice. Then three times before the door opened to reveal the figure she had been anticipating. Only something seemed a little off. While she wasn’t thinking Itadori would be wearing a shirt as it is the middle of the damn night, the markings on his entire body suggested that it wasn’t Itadori who stood in front of her. Rather, Sukuna had taken over his body for the night and wasn’t planning on leaving the boy alone.

“You really want him to be dead tomorrow, huh?” (Y/N) whispered to the curse, chuckling at the thought of Yuuji not being able to hold his eyes open for long enough to get out of bed, let alone all the “fun” activities Gojo said he had planned for us. Now, you might be wondering why the absolute fuck were you not shaking in your boots at that very moment? I mean, you’re talking to the King of Curses, the man himself. This guy could probably snap you in half with one movement if he wanted to. Well, for one, you had no boots to shake in as you were walking in the stupidest pair of slippers money could buy. Secondly, Sukuna was well aware that if he hurt you, or any of the students of Jujutsu High for that matter, his life would be cut much shorter by the president of the school without any hesitation. Even Gojo couldn’t do anything about it because he cared for you just as much as Itadori. He cared for all of the students the same, no matter how much others thought Yuuji was the only one who got his love. (Y/N), of course, knew this and took advantage of it as much as she could, without pushing the limits and getting herself into danger.

“You’re the one talking, pipsqueak,” Sukuna said, shooting the girl an unamused glare. “Coming in the middle of the night to wake up this brat isn’t much better than what I’m doing.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, walking past the curse and into Itadori’s room. Sukuna stared at her confused but before he could continue further, (Y/N) cut him off.

“Get in the room and close the door. If Gojo catches me out of my room at this ungodly hour of the night, I’m gonna be dead and if you get caught with me, it isn’t going to be taken lightly by the higher-ups.” The girl made her way over to the bed, making herself comfortable while Sukuna listened to her orders, even though he didn’t want to.

“That sounds like you’re the one who causes all the trouble here and not me.”

(Y/N) smirked, letting out a little chuckle. “And yet, I don’t care about that much.” She propped herself up, now in a sitting position. Sukuna rolled his eyes at her, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

The two stared at each other in silence. What were you even expecting? Neither of them was used to being in each other’s presence. They barely interacted due to reasons outside of their control. (Y/N) went on missions a lot, barely spending any time in the presence of Itadori. When she did have time to hang out, Sukuna never actually spoke or came out and showed his presence. Sukuna didn’t want to talk because he did enjoy the company and anything he wanted to say at first would have just made her leave. (Y/N) didn’t want to speak up because of her poor social skills. Everything she knew about socialisation, which wasn’t that much, had been thrown out the window by the lack of contact she had with other people. To be frank, even if they sat in silence (Y/N) would have sat there until the moment she was tired. It was better than being alone in her room staring at the ceiling.

“Why’d you even come here in the middle of the night?” Sukuna spoke up, not wanting to leave the room silent. Unlike (Y/N), he hated the silence. He could not take it. When the curse was on his own, whether it be in the form of Itadori or inside of his domain, Sukuna didn’t mind it. He was left alone to his own devices and was able to do as he pleased, but being around another person in complete silence drove him crazy.

“Uh… I couldn’t sleep.” her body positioned herself in a sitting fetal position, resting her head on the top of her knees. “Yuuji lets me come to his room when that happens and we just chat about random things until I feel tired.” Both of them stared at each other, waiting for who was going to speak next. It was hard to keep the conversation going as of now, both of the participants carefully thought about their words as to not upset the other. Still, (Y/N) said something to fill the silence: “What about you? Why are you in control of Yuuji’s body?”

“I felt like it.”

(Y/N) blinked at him, not believing her ears. “That’s… that’s it?” she said in disbelief.

“Are you not satisfied with that answer, pipsqueak?” The man crossed his arms and lifted a brow. The girl crossed her arms as well, pushing her back against the wall behind her. She contemplated once more all the choices she could make at this moment, though, to an outside view, (Y/N) looked as if she was scared to say anything at all. Sukuna’s chuckle broke her out of her contemplative daze. “It’s boring inside of where I am for days upon days upon days. Sometimes I need to feel alive, even if it’s just switching with this brat and walking around his room.”

The girl let out a ‘hm’ sound, nodding to indicate she understood his reasons. Slowly, the two began having normal...ish conversations without the awkward pauses between topic and sentences. They began to slow as if they’ve been long term friends with natural progression. And as all natural progression goes, this became a regular thing. (Y/N) couldn’t sleep more often, Sukuna wanted to walk around the world more often, them talking happened more often. Though, these little meetings in the middle of the night that consisted of senseless trains of thought being put into words stayed secret between just the two of them. Not even Itadori knew that (Y/N) snuck into his room as often as she did. Yuuji knew and welcomed her coming to his room to speak to him when she needed company. There were times where she snuck in and Itadori was in his own body. The girl hated to admit it but she felt sad when she couldn’t speak to the curse inside his body. Indeed, she should have felt ashamed but something just didn’t let her. (Y/N) liked Sukuna’s company. Even with the… talks about not so good things he’s done that were bound to come up at some points in time.

There came a day where (Y/N) realised it. Realised that she, as a jujutsu sorcerer, shouldn’t feel the way she feels about him. He's done so much wrong. Why does it not bother her that much? She stared at the ceiling. Her thoughts haunted her throughout the day, not letting a moment pass without her thinking about it. It was obvious she wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Leaving to go talk to the curse, however, seemed to be a tiny bit paradoxical. Her worries were caused by him. She didn’t want to end the friendship they had built. Then again, was this really for the best? Were the talks really a smart idea? Was continuing to see him and forming an emotional bond going to bring anything but pain and sorrow?

Knock, knock, knock.

‘Who could be knocking on her door at 3 in the bloody morning?’ the girl thought to herself, getting up to answer the door. As soon as she opened it, she mentally slapped herself for being stupid. I mean who else could have it been other than the curse himself.

“I see you’re awake,” he said, “though, you decided not to come and talk to me.” A brow lifted on (Y/N)’s face.

“And you decided to come to me instead, huh?” she smirked at the man, moving to give him space to enter the room. “Have you started caring about me? Have you softened up to little old me?” she poked and teased him, trying to forget what she’d been thinking about moments before. Sukuna entered, only to stop in the middle of the room.

“I need to talk to you about something…” her heart stopped. ‘Shit shit shit and shit.’ her thoughts became quicker and her heart raced as if it were running a marathon she was not ready for. Why would she have said what she said? Was it that she got too comfortable around him. “What you said… about me caring about you…” he paused, trying to find the words to say. (Y/N) looked at him turned away from her, anticipating his next words. “It’s true… I am softer towards you than anyone else. In these past two months you... You’ve made your way to my heart. You make me feel. You make me feel,” he said quietly, fiercely, making (Y/N)’s heart skip a beat or two. He turned towards her, his face more serious than you’d want it to be in this moment. “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.”

(Y/N) blinked. Absolutely taken aback at his words. “I’m sorry, what?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He confessed that he cared about her. That she made him feel a certain way. And yet somehow he’s rejecting her? Nothing makes sense. She didn’t even confess to him and she feels hurt. “I… don’t-”

“Why do I feel like this?” Sukuna cut her off and stared at her, hoping she would solve the problem with a few simple words.

“I- I don’t know why you feel like you do!” she squeaked out, still unsure what was happening, “I mean I don’t even know how you feel.”

“I don’t know either.” (Y/N) paused, lifting her hand towards his. Her eyes flicked towards his, silently asking permission to hold his hand. He squinted at her. For a man who claims to be a genius and has years and years of life experience, his social skills seemed to be lacking when we’re talking about kindness. The girl kept quiet, putting her hand closer. It gently touched his, sending a clearer message of what it was she wanted. Sukuna let out a slight ‘oh’, before embracing her hand into his. Her heart skipped a beat again. She cursed herself silently, understanding that she was feeling the same way as he was.

“What are we going to do, pipsqueak?” Sukuna asked her, confused out of his mind. It was rare that anyone saw him as bewildered as he was right now.

“We’ll… figure it out I guess…” a smile tugged at (Y/N)’s lips. It was terrifying, there’s a lot in their way and a lot of things they have to set straight, but for now, this seemed to be the most they could do.

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x fem!reader #x reader #one shot #imagine #drabble #was supposed to be angst but i cannot bring myself to write anything but fluff rn #fanfic #fanfiction

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goofyhoffy · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER 2

Fanfiction : My First Kiss 'just a kiss'

Genre : best friend to enemies to lovers! Roommates au! Classmates au! Romcom.

Pairings : Taehyung × reader

Word limit : 2.06k

Warnings : fuckboi, bestie bad words, private talks, best friend sharing sex life, abusing, angst, misunderstanding, bullying, kissing, smut, fluff, explicit, student life, dirty talks, wet dreams, hitting on, making out, Dom,sub, yandere.

Summary : you shifted to a new city for your best friend Taehyung. He's your bestie since birth. You admitted to his school where you find life difficult. Taehyung being a fuckboi and you being is bestie he shares everything with you even his sex life and moves. But your character is far more different from him. You always looked for your comfort person. You dreamt of spending time with your future partners. Even you're in high school you haven't kissed anyone as you want to secure your first kiss for your special one. What happened when Taehyung seized the chance from you of your first romantic kiss!

Series: a drabble fanfiction of 3 sets.

Author note : this one is so emotional and romantic , so look forward to read it. I hope you'll love it. Finally, after reading give me your help full opinions. Love ya.

Chapter 1 ∆ CHAPTER 3

MASTERLIST

(๑♡⌓♡๑)(๑♡⌓♡๑)(๑♡⌓♡๑)(๑♡⌓♡๑)

You walks up to him and straight up slap him in his golden cheeks.

Slapping your bestie feels so bad, you felt the worst person in this planet. Your anger and frustration towards him still didn't left from your heart.

Taehyung getting slapped with your bare soft hands. He got thrilled. You slapped and left the venue. But eventually you feel someone grabbed your hand so hard. As you expected it's Tae. He was standing with his hand grabbing yours and the other hand holding his delicate cheeks you just slapped. You frowned.

"What was that?" Tae arrogantly asked.

"A slap to remember you that you're nothing but a stranger to me from now." You screamed.

"How dare you?" Tae squeezed your hands.

"How dare you to kiss me?" You eyed.

"Seriously, for a kiss you would slap your bestie" Tae sighed.

"It's My First Kiss" you emotionally acknowledged.

"It's just a kiss". Tae sighed.

"You were my best friend." Your voice broke.

"I still am. Still your best friend." Tae said.

"No, Tae. That's not how things happen. I told you hundreds of time that, I'm not like you. I can't makeout with anyone like you do. I have higher expectations and hope for my First Kiss. But you ruined it." You screamed.

"But you kissed me back." He too screamed.

"I don't, I don't know. It's just happened."

"See, you kissed me back but still reacting like a fucking slut. Don't be emotional virgin,____"

"Shut up, you fuckboy. See yourself. A fucking boy who can sleep with any and every girl across the door. I'm not like you, Taehyung. Maybe your dick fits for everyone but not for me. I never thought that you'll do something like this to me. I was your bestie." You bashed for him.

"What? Think before you speak,____" Tae sighed.

"Why will I? When you never even think about smashing your worst lips on mine? Huh." You said.

"I can't. You're the meanest. Actually your lips taste the worst. You don't even now how to kiss. Huh, how would you even know. You're a emotional Virgin. If I didn't kissed you, nobody in your entire life will do. You should thank me. Poor Virgin." Tae chuckled devilishly.

Hearing those cruel words from Tae. You just broken up. Those tears can't resist to drop themselves from your small pearl eyes. You never thought that your best friend can think that about you. Each and every word he speaks you remember word by word. The known loved face of Tae looked devilish to you now. He was not the same anymore. People change so do he. He turn to devil, who even can hurt their own people. You remember why you even here. It was all because of Tae who needed you. You were always there for your best friend. But he was never there. And he was the one who hurt you the most.

You can't let a word fall out of your mouth. Your neck was feeling pain out of caught your tears back. You don't want to face him anymore. Just want to go away from his gaze. His presence even stinks. He feels like a complete stranger to you. Out of anything you want was someone to tell you what is wrong and right. But your own friend was a traitor.

You still can't processed how things got runied between you. It was only second day of your staying with Tae, and you both already at the verge to broke up. The fight turns into a rival. You never have such a big issue or fight with him. Back in the old days, he always supported, loved and cared about you. But now at the school, he totally treat you like a new nerd girl who's hitting on him. So much things are going on your mind. The presence of your first kiss, the betrayal and the acting a stranger all from your own best friend.

"Huh! Don't fucking cry like a monster. Speak up, my toxic friend." Tae frowned.

His words makes your heart ache more and more. You can't stand to him. You wanted to slap him untill death. He was like a enemy to your eyes.

Without any response you shed off your tears, took a deep breath. Took your books from the library table and left the place.

Taehyung is deeply affected by your presence. He had never seen you like this. He somewhere immaturely annoyed by your response. The slap still leaves a mark on his cheeks. He deep down know that it's all his fault but his ego stops from accepting that. He only knew that you were overreacting and nothing. A kiss never can be compared with a slap. Best friend do this shitty things but the fight turns to Rival. Now, onwards he only know one thing she was his enemy and nothing.

You took your bagpacks from your classroom. And left the school. You stroll down the unknown street. The school, roads, place and your best friend seems stranger. You don't know where to go. For a second you thought of leaving your school from Seoul to go back to Daegu. But you promised Taehyung's mother that you would not leave him in the half way. You decide to stick to him but he wasn't your best friend anymore. But he was, no he still is. Might be you were little too much to response harshly. But he need to apologize to you first. And you were not gonna talk to him anymore.

Taehyung when came to classroom and can't find you anywhere, he got that you skipped the school. He was worried about you, after all you knew no one there. It was completely unknown place to you. But he know his way of finding where are you. He checked your snap location and at his surprise you were already home. He got relieved but still want to realise you that you were wrong to slap him.

You gone home as no other option was left. Did your homework and some self study. And missed your old Tae a bucket. Cried for hours over the same boy. But your strong will power helps you to organise yourself more. Took a fresh shower and done your hair and skin care.

Lying on the bed you were checking your social media. At your surprise you see something that broke your heart again. Tae posted a photo with his school friends and captioned it "far from the toxic friendship. Best day to get to know about real colour of people." You were so annoyed. You deep down know that he posted it for you. Tae intentionally posted to mock you. You were like does he thinks that you were toxic, he want to end friendship so he should tell you early. Such a asshole he was.

You know you have to call him, to tell him that he don't deserve you. That he was wrong to take away your first kiss. You called him and as expected he didn't received. You called him again, he received.

"You asshole." You screamed.

"What? What do you want now?" Tae arrogantly said.

"You fucking don't deserve a bestie like me. Your sarcasm is not a joke. You think you would mock me and I'll ignore it. Huh." You frowned.

"I see... So, how was my post. You like it. I love the caption so much. It's best to ignore toxic people like you." Tae devilishly grinned.

"Just fuck off with your poor fake gang Kim Taehyung. I even don't give a fuck. I hate you." You declined the call.

You screamed across the lungs that you can't with this boy.

Thinking all those think you drifted into sleep. You woke up to some weird noises coming from living room. And it's of screaming some girls. Felt weird that who was gonna scream like a monster at that time. That was barely late evening. As you were moving closer to living room the noises turns to moans. And as expected it was none other than your fake bestie Taehyung.

"What the heck? " You screamed.

"Oh my god. Who's she?" The girl screamed violently.

Taehyung turns to you and let out a deep sigh.

"_____, you're here again. Get off your ass. We're in a moment." Taehyung continued.

"Why in the living room? Don't you have two big bed rooms of your. Don't stain my yellow couches with your c-" you were cut off in the middle by the girl who covered herself with Tae's shirt.

"Shut up. Just go. Babe, we should go to your bed room."

"We can have sex anywhere and everywhere in this house. It's my fucking house,_____. Understood. Now, go." Taehyung rolled his eyes.

"I'm here too. As a roommate, I don't like this. Now go to your bedroom." You sighed.

"You are a bitch,_____. And you know that. You just ruined my mood." Tae frowned

"Babe we can start again, let's make your mood. So, where were we-" the girl said.

"You, please shut up. Take your clothes and fuck off." Taehyung sighed.

"But babe we ca-"

"Get out, slut." Taehyung directed the girl and she wear her clothes finally leaving you two alone.

A deep silence surround you both. None of you were starting a conversation. You were standing at the living room's door and he was sitting at the couch with his hand on the side chin. His dark brown eyes pierced yours. It was like he gonna kill you straight with his staring. You try to hide from his gaze but can not. He got up and grabbed your hands.

"What do you want?" His firm slow voice cut through your ears.

"Huh! I was ... Just asking to be at your bedroom." You stumble.

"Why you slapped me? Is kissing is an offense?"

"For me it is. You have totally changed."

He grabbed your hands and pinned you across the wall leaving enough space to breathe.

"Leave me. You're embrassed of me! Aren't you?" You sighed.

"Embrassed of you? Why?" Tae asked .

"You call me a little nerd in front of your friends. Why? You're treating me like you never knew me. I'm shocked to see such changes. I know I'm not cool like you nor I'm good looking like you. But still you would not talk and even humiliate your best friend in front your school friends. I'm your child hood friend, Taehyung. Mind it." You speak your heart out.

"Are you okay?" Taehyung speaks with his most delicate voice. He never believe that you have think to much just within a day. This was not what he was expecting.

"No, I'm not. I'm here for you but still you are ignoring me. Calling me slut, humiliating me and doing everything a best friend shouldn't do." Tears rolled down from your eyes. You can't anymore hold that back. Your eyes got puffy with tears. Your heart sink because of Tae.

Without any response Taehyung hugged you. Pressed you in his huge warm body. His hands patted your small head and back. But still you were crying.

"Stop crying. You misunderstood me. I'm sorry." Taehyung sighed.

"Please, let me explain you everything. I'm not ignoring you. It's just if I tell everyone that you're my bestie then they would see you as a person like me. I don't want you to be like me. I just wanted that you would make your own image as you wanted in your new school. I want you to be the best in the class and not like me who's always known for having girls around. I... I'm sorry." Taehyung explained.

You hugged him back and even cried more that his shirt got all drenched.

"No. Don't talk to me." You murmured.

"I'm apologizing. I really like you." Taehyung sighed.

A moment of silence between all those words make you stumble. You were still hugged by your best friend who just confronted his feelings to you.

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

neither calm nor quiet

BTHB: Trapped In A Net

warnings: miscommunication, past familial and domestic abuse mentions, injury, violence, terrible decision making skills

When Virgil finally decided to brave shallower waters, it had already been nearly half a moon cycle since Logan had vanished.

He’d made excuses at first, telling himself that the dread he felt was just his normal brand of overwrought paranoia. For the first few days, he was half-convinced that his curiosity-prone friend would appear at any moment, probably lugging some sort of stray litter or ‘interesting human artifact’ along with him to explain why he’d been late.

Things would be normal again. Virgil would find some rocks for them to sun on and Logan would ramble on about the potential uses of his find, and maybe Virgil would teasingly suggest some outlandish way the trash was secretly a violent human weapon, just to hear Logan thoroughly refute it.

After another three days passed with no sign of the other selkie, Virgil was forced to let that fantasy fade. Logan had never been this late before, not even that time he’d managed to carry an entire minifridge along with him for Virgil to identify.

Something had to have happened to him.

He’d spent the next week scouring the currents for any sign of his missing friend, even approaching other pods and asking around, requesting that they keep an eye out for any signs of Logan. He didn’t expect much from that; the two of them didn’t socialize with other selkies often enough to make any friends, and their two-person pod was too small to spare any food during winter, so there was nothing for the other pods to gain by helping them.

Virgil knew better than most how selfish pod politics could be.

Every few days, he would return to their meeting spot and catch a few hours of sleep to keep himself from crashing, always naively hoping that Logan would be there when he woke. He never was.

In the end, he had to face what he’d already known from the beginning: either Logan was dead, or he’d gone onland and gotten himself bound by a human.

He didn’t want to believe Logan had decided to brave the human world even after Virgil’s many, many warnings against it, but believing the alternative was even worse. So, he steeled himself to do the one thing he’d sworn to never do again, and headed for the cold, rocky shores of the nearest human settlement.

Naturally, he spent so long swimming back and forth between different stretches of beach, trying to force himself to take those literal first steps, that he didn’t notice the woven fibers dancing in the water until he’d plowed right into them.

A fishing net, dyed skillfully to blend in with the water, and large enough that when he tried to twist out of it, he only became further entangled.

Panic set in, then, clouding his mind and leaving him thrashing ineffectively like a simple animal. He couldn’t help it-- he couldn’t breathe underwater in either form, had no gills to keep him steady as he was dragged along by the current. He couldn’t untangle himself while adrift, couldn’t find solid ground while tangled. He would drown.

Between one blink and the next, he found himself in open air, gritty sand pressed against his face. Waves crested gently around him, a sharp contrast to the headache pounding around in his skull.

He never thought he’d be relieved about blacking out and beaching himself, but then, he’d never been worried about drowning in his own element before.

Okay. There weren’t any humans around to see the stupid idiot seal stuck on the beach. This was still salvageable.

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to bite through the netting with his incisors, and got a mouthful of sore gums for his trouble. The dyed fibers seemed to be woven around a base net of fishing wire, because of course they were. He let his head thunk back to the sandy ground, groaning at the new surge of pain the motion caused.

Sun-warmed saltwater continued to wash over his tail, and he blinked slowly, measuring his breaths. He could figure this out. He wouldn’t dry out. He just needed a moment to put himself back together. He could… He…

His eyelids grew heavy, and everything went dark.

Roman thought the guy was a pile of garbage at first, to be quite honest.

Not on purpose, of course! But, come on, when one sees a mound of mystery washed up on shore, it generally ends up being a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around half-rotted driftwood, not a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around beautiful strangers wearing expensive-looking fur coats!

His next thought, once he’d gotten closer, was that the beautiful stranger wearing the expensive-looking fur coat was dead, and that a body had washed up on his little strip of shoreline. Pallid skin, blue lips, and deep shadows under their eyes-- the beautiful stranger wasn’t exactly giving off an aura of vim and vigor.

He’d spent a few moments staring at his contact list, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do about a body. Should he call 911? … Should he call Remus?

Before he could make a decision either way, he finally picked up on the shallow rise and fall of the beautiful stranger’s chest, and realized that they were still alive! Potentially not for much longer, laying out in the cold all soggy like that, but Roman could work with mostly alive!

And so, he found himself here, carefully carrying the small but surprisingly dense stranger up to his home by the cliffs, and risking looking like a total serial killer doing it.

He couldn’t help but theorize as he walked. A beautiful stranger in expensive clothing, tangled in nets with what appeared to be a head wound… It read like an old unsolved case in a detective novel, where the mysterious stranger in question got in too deep with some dangerous people and ended up clubbed over the head and dumped into a river to tie up loose ends.

“Except you managed to survive, obviously,” Roman said to them, mostly to reassure himself. He really had to stop eavesdropping on Remus’s true crime podcasts. “And you made your way to me! Excellent choice, I’m great at nursing people back to health. Probably. I don’t have much practical experience, but, you know, I’ve read extensively about this exact thing. In romance novels. As one does.”

The beautiful and mysterious stranger continued to be unconscious. Roman was starting to feel grateful for it.

His house was empty, thankfully, since his brother had work to attend to today. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before pushing the door open and carrying the stranger inside, sighing with relief at the warm air.

“That’s got to feel much better, hm?”

He sat the stranger down in the foyer, removing his shoes to go grab some scissors from the kitchen.

“First order of business,” he announced in his best announcer voice, “getting all that netting off of you. While I’m sure you could rock fishnet leggings, fish nets on their own just don’t have the same je ne sais quoi, you know? Also, they look very uncomfortable. You’re great at staying still, so just keep that up.”

He carefully cut his way through the looser parts of netting, pulling it off piece by piece until all that was left were the abrasions where they’d formerly cut into skin. Roman had no idea how they’d even managed to get that tangled up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It couldn’t have been pretty.

In the process of removing the net, however, he’d noticed another rather pressing matter.

Going by the flash of thigh he’d accidentally witnessed while shifting the net around, the stranger definitely wasn't wearing anything under that fur coat of theirs. Like, nothing.

(Exactly what kind of situation had the stranger been in before this?!)

Even so, leaving them in a sodden coat couldn’t be good for their constitution. Or his poor couch’s upholstery.

Roman spent a few moments puzzling the situation out before coming up with a brilliant solution. He retrieved the fluffy gold comforter from his bed and draped it over the stranger, covering their front half with it. Then, he carefully worked their arms out of the coat’s sleeves, very pointedly not focusing on the adorable freckled shoulders this operation revealed. Finally, he tugged the entire coat out from behind them, wincing at the slight furrow that appeared in their brow.

“Sorry, sorry, I know the cold floor can’t be comfortable…”

Soggy coat removed, he was free to continue bundling the rest of the comforter around the stranger’s back, therefore making it easy for him to pick them up in a neat little bundle of blanket and deposit them on the couch. No nudity awkwardness required!

Pleased with his solution, he draped a fluffy towel over the stranger’s head and carefully dried some of the dampness from their hair. Next, he wasted no time in stoking the fire higher in his hearth, sending waves of warmth into the room and making it so the stranger’s skin didn’t look quite so clammy.

Once he’d cleaned up the mess left in the foyer and grabbed the first aid kit from under his sink, he planted himself in a chair next to the couch, feeling ready to handle anything.

“Okay, Google. How do I treat a head wound?”

Virgil felt as though he’d woken to a nightmare.

He was in the wrong body, surrounded on all sides by heavy fabric and warm air, and his coat was missing. That list of facts alone was just about as bad as any night terror he’d had.

The humming was unusual, though.

A soft tune, occasionally broken up by a half-muttered lyric or two, carried through the air, voice completely at ease. His mother had never sung to him in front of others, and it sure as hell wasn’t his father.

He tried to remember where he’d been last. The back of his head stung… he’d ended up on a beach? The tide had been turning, from high to low… He must have dried out up there, changed into his less durable form. And now he was warm and dry.

He clenched his fists weakly and grit his teeth, knowing that a human had found him and stolen him away. Just like his mother. He’d come to find Logan and lost himself before ever even starting. Typical.

“Are you with us, Sleeping Beauty?” a bright voice asked.

The humming had broken off while he was absorbed in his thoughts, and now he could hear the shift and rustle of movement next to him. He opened his eyes, already aiming the coldest possible glare at his captor.

He was sort of surprised to find that the human sitting at his side wasn’t holding his coat. His father used to make a point of handling his mother’s coat at any opportunity. He’d liked to watch his mother stare at it, resting assured that so long as he held it in his possession, she could do him no harm.

This human was much younger than his father had been, probably around as old as Virgil was now. He had dark skin and soft eyes that reflected the firelight, and he was smiling hopefully at Virgil.

“Hello there! It’s excellent to see you looking a little more lively! I was starting to think about actually calling the hospital, heh.”

Wordlessly, Virgil slowly shifted to sit up, shoving the thick blanket out and shaking the cloth from his head. He looked down, confirming what he already knew. No coat. The human hadn’t even bothered to dress him up in human trappings to ‘make up’ for the absence.

“Ah, yeah... I sort of basically pulled you out of the ocean and what little you were wearing was completely soaked.” The human rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I figured it’d be less of an invasion of privacy to just let you get dressed yourself once you woke up?”

Oh, the human was worried about his privacy? What a joke.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, truly!” the human continued, oblivious to Virgil’s rising ire. He gave a mocking little bow, pretending to respect the one he’d abducted. “My sincerest apologies.”

He was done playing along with mind games like these. Better to let the human know where they stood right off the bat.

“I’m going to kill you,” Virgil promised, and then lunged for the human’s jugular.

To his genuine surprise, he actually made contact, hands clamping onto the junction between collar and throat. The human let out a high-pitched yelp as his chair toppled over, taking both of them with it.

Virgil landed knee-first on the human’s sternum, and paused to blink down at the wheezing stranger, who apparently had been so confident in the weakness of his victim that he hadn’t bothered to bind Virgil from harming him in advance.

Unless.

His grip loosened slightly, just in time for the human’s fist to catch him squarely in the mouth. He threw himself backwards, rolling with the force of the motion to get some distance and hunkering in a crouch. It had been too long since he’d been active in this form, his sense of balance was in shambles.

The human scrambled to his feet, and grabbed the back of the chair, eyes wild. He thrust it out between them like a barrier, as though it could prevent any more strangulation attempts.

“What is wrong with you?!” he shrieked, voice cracking as his gaze flickered back and forth between Virgil and some far off point. “I tenderly nursed you back to health, and your response is to try and murder me? Unfair! Cruel! Rude!”

“Where is my coat?” Virgil replied, voice hoarse and split lip stinging. A test, because humans were tricky and loved to lie.

“Your— your coat?” The human pulled up short, head tilting slightly in a bewildered manner. A convincing actor, if nothing else. “Is that what all this is about? I put it on the coat hanger to dry! I know better than to try and wash someone’s fancy fur coat without permission, yeesh.”

A low warning growl in the back of his throat, Virgil turned his gaze from the current threat and followed the gesture the human had made.

Sure enough, there it was. His freedom, draped on a peg in the open with all the rest of the human’s fabric outer layers like some common garment.

“Do you… want me to get it— eep!” The human lifted the chair back up in paltry defense as Virgil snarled at him. He rose up and crossed the distance to his pelt in five wobbly strides, before the human could try and return it to him and lock them both into a loveless marriage.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he quickly wrapped his second skin around him, that grounding weight settling back where it belonged. He still couldn’t shift back, not here, but the ocean was close enough to taste in the air.

The human was still huddled defensively by the fireplace, looking indignantly bewildered and not at all like he knew he’d just given up the perfect opportunity to control Virgil.

Which meant that-- barring some incredibly convoluted scheme-- he really had no idea. And Virgil had tried to strangle him, even if under false pretenses. He drew the edges of his pelt closer around him, rolling the beginnings of an apology around in his mind.

The mysterious stranger was still glaring at Roman like they were contemplating continuing to try and strangle him to death at any moment.

He’d brought a half-drowned stranger into his home and tenderly treated their injuries, and what had he received in return for his efforts? A murder attempt, which now that he thought about it was maybe an outcome he should have considered earlier. Remus would never let him live this down.

Assuming he lived long enough for his brother to give him shit about it, that was.

The stranger seemed to at least be a little calmer now that their reclaimed coat was thoroughly wrapped around them, rendering them more lump-shaped than person. Roman felt much more secure in glaring back, too.

He set his impromptu shield/chair down firmly on the floor. “I have no idea what your problem is, Gloomy B. Jones, but where I’m from, the response to someone saving you from dying of hypothermia is ‘thank you’, not a strangulation attempt!”

The murderglare intensified. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yes,” Roman said, disbelieving, “because you were too busy being unconscious. On the beach. In 40-below temperatures!”

“That’s my problem, not yours,” the stranger responded snappishly.

Roman threw his hands in the air, but his impending frustrated rant was impeded by the sight of a stifled flinch running through the stranger. Feeling a stab of guilt, he lowered his arms slowly before continuing.

“It seems I made it my problem when I dragged your soggy self all the way to my house, so--”

“Great news for you, then: I’m leaving.” Baring their teeth in a distinctly unfriendly manner, the stranger turned to do just that.

“Hold it!” Roman called, alarmed. “You’re going into town like that?! People will think you’re a flasher!” Even his brother wouldn’t go out dressed in nothing but an oversized coat. ... Probably.

The stranger paused, squinting at him warily. Roman took it as a cue to continue.

“Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here. Several wrong feet. Let’s try again. I’m Roman Faroe, I work for the local newspaper, and you are…?”

“None of your business,” replied the stranger, with all the stubborn petulance of a toddler digging their heels in and refusing to move whilst smack dab in the middle of an overcrowded supermarket.

“Would you like me to call you ‘Almost-Corpse-I-Dragged-Off-The-Beach?’ Perhaps make up a thematic nickname or two for you? Because let me tell you, this is exactly how you get called--,”

“Hold on,” the stranger cut him off, a realization seeming to dawn on him, “did you say you worked for the news?”

“Yes, I mean, the newspaper not the news. Although I’m sure I’d make an excellent anchor,” Roman gestured to all of himself for effect, “my true passion lies in my carefully curated romantic advice column!”

“So, you get all the information in town,” continued the stranger, who had a strange glint in their eye.

“I mean, if you want to be a nerd about it.”

“How about this.” The stranger stepped forward, straightening out of their defensive slouch for the explicit purpose of being just tall enough to loom over Roman. “You want to know my name? I’ll tell you, if you help me track down something important that I lost.”

An investigative quest for a mysterious MacGuffin? Roman swallowed, feeling his heart flutter wildly with what felt less like intimidation and more like excitement. He could totally keep his cool, he just had to open his mouth and say something suave.

“I also want to know your origin story,” he opened his mouth and babbled instead.

The stranger narrowed their eyes for a moment, and Roman belatedly remembered the near-strangulation. Perhaps he shouldn't be agitating a femme fatale type, what with all the emphasis on the fatale.

To his surprise, it only took a moment before they capitulated, sticking a hand out. “Fine. After my thing gets done.”

Roman shook gladly, trying not to shiver at the cool touch. Had they checked to make sure the stranger wasn’t hypothermic yet? “It’s a deal, then.”

“Great.” They twisted on their heel, stalking to the door. “Let’s get this over with, already.”

“Hold on there, Surly Temple.” Roman called, hand on his hip. “I hate to break it to you, but if you go into town mostly naked, the only news we’ll be hearing about will be your immediate arrest.”

The stranger glanced down at his attire, and then released the door handle with a low sigh. “... Pants first?”

“Pants first.”

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #selkie AU #bthb #bad things happen bingo #writing #my writing #neither calm nor quiet #ncnq #oneshot #... theoretically #disclaimer: do not do anything roman does here #he is a lucky fool #logan is fine btw #theoretically.#i feel like im forgetting tags. well whatever #selkies

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script-nef · 3 years

Text

Compensation | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

3k words; Dinner date [5/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

The door clicks behind you as you retire into your room after another day of work. Fatigue aches at your bones and the bed is soft underneath as you flop onto it. Investing in a cushiony blanket and mattress is probably one of the best decisions you made in your life. If not the best.

Drifting away into dreamland sounds amazing. If not for All Might.

“A text is here!”

“Toshinori…” Even though your favourite character is Hawks, there’s no way you’re not setting Yagi as your ringtone. Groaning, you blindly reach for the phone while not moving your smushed face. Comfort prioritises over the ability to breathe.

Gojou: Hey! T minus an hour to our reservation! Get ready!

Ah, this. Gojou has made good on his promise to make up for the dinner you missed thanks to his theatrics. Something bubbles in your chest.

Since the beach incident, which ended fine with everyone happy and well-rested, something shifted. In the relationship between you and Gojou. Tensing in the neck, quicker palpitation sometimes. Like the feeling you had when you went on that flight to Shinjuku and also at the beach. Repetition is making it concerning. Maybe a trip to Shouko is overdue.

Gojou: Wear smth nice! Me: ? What? Gojou: They have a policy about ties n dresses or smth. Or we can show up in jeans n see how they react! Me: Let’s not. Gojou: K then! C you in 56 mins ;)

There it is again, the bubbles. Shaking your head to dislodge the feeling, you get ready for dinner.

Joints pop as you rise, lazily gathering towels and clothes. Something nice. If it’s a place with attire regulations, it must be pretty high-class. Or maybe he’s just messing with you to see what you would wear. Better not take any chances.

Thirty minutes and your muscles are much looser thanks to the hot water. The fragrant smell of your shampoo and body wash puts you in a good mood as well. You quickly slip into a dress, a present Gojou got for you some time ago. It’s a soft and flowy one with intricate snowflakes decorating the ends. It became one of your favourites pretty quickly.

Rhythmic knocks on the door alert you of Gojou’s arrival just as you’re done drying your hair. After checking in the mirror to see if everything is fine, you open your room door.

The only thing same about him from his usual self is the hair and smile. His casual outfit is replaced with a black suit, presumably the one he bought weeks ago when he tagged along with you to buy Ken-chan a present. Somehow it looks better on him now than it did before. Probably the antique hallway lighting than the department one, it just gives him a more cozy vibe. The blindfold is gone, replaced by sunglasses. His gorgeous irises are still hidden from your view. He cleans up well.

“M’lady.” Bowing slightly, he stretches his hand out for you to take. You oblige with a giggle. The whole gentleman thing is cute.

“You’re on time for once! No, wait, you’re early!” Time seems to elude Gojou all the time. In the years you’ve known him, he’s never come to a meeting on time, let alone early. Especially ones about him by the higher-ups. There was one time where he didn’t even bother to come but Masamichi-san dragged him by the ear. Unfortunately, there’s no photographic proof which could have been used to mock him with.

“Of course I’ll come on time. Oh, you’re wearing the dress I bought you!” Gentleman vibe goes out the window, him returning to his hyperactive self. It’s still pretty cute. Where the hell is this coming from? There’s a constricting feeling in your throat.

“Oh, you’ve never seen me wear it. It’s one of my favourites now, and I thought you’d like to see it. What do you think?” By now you’re out in the courtyard, illuminated under the moon. Skipping up ahead, you spin a bit, letting the dress flow out. He doesn’t say anything for a while. “Gojou?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Eh?”

“You look… beautiful.”

The softness in his voice catches you off guard. You stop in your track, the clothing falling and resting against your legs. This is a Gojou you haven’t met before, one with such sincerity and tenderness. He steps up, taking one of your hands in his. Something tingles inside your stomach, like fireflies buzzing around and lighting it up with warmth. What’s happening right now?

“I mean it. You’re dazzling.”

Fire burns under your skin, originating from where he’s holding you and threatens to consume your entire body. The flutter in your stomach is nothing compared to this. Time stops. The only thing you can hear is his breathing and your heart beating.

Moonlight cascades over him, showering him in an ethereal glow. Snow white hair shines brilliantly and something seizes at your throat. He slowly lowers his lips to meet with the back of your hand, pressing a light yet somehow heavy kiss.

You're not moving. Not breathing. It feels like you're standing on a sheet-thin glass, a bottomless abyss underneath you. If you move even a centimeter, take even the slightest of breathes, the moment will break and you'll plummet down.

Lungs scream at you to breathe. You can't. Not while he's still holding your hand with such gentle sincerity. Heat travels to every cell in your body and the flicker inside your stomach gets unbearable.

The moment finally ends when his lips detach from your hand. Air slowly returns as he runs his fingers over your knuckles. When he peers down at you, there's just a momentary flash of piercing blue behind his sunglasses that makes your breath hitch.

"Shall we go?"

Shooting you a sweet smile, he doesn't let go of your hand and marches on forward. You barely remember to keep up, brain scrambled and chest exploding.

“This is an exclusive place. How did you get reservations this fast?”

“My stunning good looks!”

“Gojou.”

“Apparently someone cancelled their reservations. Looks and luck. What don’t I have?”

“Humility.

“That cuts me, [Name].”

Stifling laughter, you look out of the window and onto the street. A few weeks ago the view would have been amazing, but now that you’ve experienced flying, nothing measures up to it. There hasn’t been another flight break as you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for one, since he was so busy, but the exhilaration of the trip never quite left your body.

When you turn your attention back to him, there’s a lit candle on the table and Gojou’s resting his head on his hand, staring at you. The intensity can be felt over his sunglasses.

“What’s up with the candlelight?”

“No idea.”

Attempts for small talk are useless. A silence sits in the air. Not the comfortable kind that you normally have with him, working in your office while he takes a nap on the sofa nearby. Or the one when he unceremoniously interrupts a break in the garden by coming up and resting his head on your lap, enjoying a soak in the sun with you. Or when you’re eating in the cafeteria together.

Something is just off here. It might be because of… his act earlier. Just thinking about it is enough to bring the blush back. But no, it's more to do with this place. It's much nicer than your school, expensive chandeliers and tablecloths, the air of refinery that everyone else naturally oozes. But it’s distant, detached. It doesn’t suit you or him. Eventually, you break.

“Why did you bring me here?” The smile disappears off of Gojou’s face and his brow scrunches in confusion.

“I thought girls liked this kind of thing!”

"Well, yeah, it’s exclusive for a reason. But I… don’t feel comfortable here. I’m grateful that you brought me here, and I appreciate all the effort you put into this to secure a place for us. It’s just that this feels way too serious to make up for a missed meal. I feel terrible that you went through all that trouble for me. I’m fine with somewhere more casual and comfortable, not the most expensive place you can take me.”

“You think this is the most expensive place I can take you? I’m wounded.” Gojou grips at his heart but the easy-going smile tells a different story. You give him a tentative smile back, worried he might be offended underneath his smile.

“Unless you want to stay here? I’m fine with that as well, this is completely up to you.”

“Nope, it’s up to you. Wanna head out then?” He holds his hand out again. You take it without a second thought.

“Where is this?”

“My favourite restaurant! They have the best dango for dessert. And of course, the main menus are good as well.” He’s so consistent.

Customers and chefs alike stare at you two when you walk in. Which is expected when Gojou’s dressed in an immaculate designer suit that’s in complete contrast to the humble and cozy interior of the shop. Some avert their gaze when they realise they’re being rude, but you can see them sneaking a peek from the corners of their eyes. You’re not dressed up as Gojou is, but mortification still flushes your cheeks. It gets worse when he guides you over to a table, leading you to a table by hugging you from behind. This never bothered you before so why is it affecting you so much now?

“Here you go.” He pushes a chair back for you to sit in. A server greets you with a smile, handing over the menu then disappears again. “Is this place better?”

It really is. Spices and the smell of broth leak into the eating areas, triggering your taste buds and causing you to salivate. People chatter and yell and cheer, the cacophony of noises filling the place with livelihood unlike the cold silence of the previous restaurant. This is somehow more peaceful. A smile blooms on your face.

“This is perfect.”

The rest of the night is smooth sailing. Gojou knows your taste in food perfectly, expertly recommending which ones to try out. The food is impeccable and the dangos are exquisite, the perfect blend of sweet and chewy. Conversation flows easily once you’re comfortable and blocking out whatever the courtyard thing was.

He's been away for a while due to a sudden influx in curses so it's nice to have some quality time together like this. With your belly full and warmth spreading over your body, you were ready to hit the sack.

That is, if he didn’t offer sake to end the night.

“Hmmm sleepy…” Alcohol doesn’t taste nice. Fuzziness takes over your brain, like thoughts are all mixing with each other and the room is spinning weirdly. Closing your eyes helps. Lights are way still way too bright and it feels like sweat is pouring off you by buckets. Someone’s calling your name but the wall is so nice and cool against your blazing skin.

“Didn’t know you’d be this much of a lightweight. Hey, hey, you with me?” Gojou’s blurry face comes into view when you open your eyes. Giggles escape you for absolutely no reason.

“Gojou!”

“Yes, yes, I’m here. I think you need to stop drinking. Nanami might never let me see you again.”

“Your cheeks are so squishy!” It’s soft and smooth underneath your fingers, like he doesn’t have pores. Maybe you can’t feel pores with fingers but his skin is just that flawless. “Drop your skincare routine, baby skin.”

“You had like three cups, how are you this drunk? I already paid so let’s go back to school. Lift your arms?” You obey obediently and something warm encases you. A familiar and delightful scent assaults your nose. There’s a click, a lot of clicks, like someone’s taking a photo. You can’t be bothered looking to check. “Can you stand?”

“Mm…”

“Guess that’s a no. Keep your eyes closed.”

Your stomach lurches as you’re pulled onto your feet, supported by something under your arms. Cold air rushes onto your face and makes you whine. There’s a call of “thank you” which you reply in your drunken stupor with “I’ll be back!” Laughter comes somewhere from above.

It’s dark enough outside that you can open your eyes again. Everything’s still a bit hazy but you can find your balance now.

“You think you can handle flying?” There’s really no way to tell other than to try it. So you nod.

There’s a blank memory between that decision and the moment you arrive at your doorsteps. Literally nothing. You blinked after making that choice and now you’re standing outside your room door. You would have fallen thanks to disorientation if not for Gojou supporting you by the small of your back.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He stands around while you get ready to sleep, helping you tie your hair and catching you when you lose balance. After washing, you stare at him and he stares right back. The stare-off continues. He finally gets the message when you point at the dress and walks out. It’s a struggle to get out of clothes in an inebriated state but after much wrestling, you manage.

Climbing into the bed, you’re about to actually fall asleep when there’s a knock on the door. Groans answer it because it’s way too far away. The person opposite seems to get the message and comes in. You peek and it’s Gojou with a plastic shopping bag. Sitting down and making himself comfortable on the bed, he ruffles through the bag.

“Hey, you have to drink this. It’ll help tomorrow.” He helps you sit up but pauses for a second. Your eyes flicker open. He’s looking at your body. “Are you still wearing my jacket? After you’ve changed?”

“Yup! Smells nice!” You bury your face in the lapel as if to prove a point. The grip on your arm tightens and he looks down.

“It smells nice?”

“Mhm. It's you. I feel like I'm being protected." He lets go of you, instead choosing to cover his face in his hands. His ears look red. Flicking it looks fun. "Gojou? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Drink the medicine." Even with your messed up, alcohol-ridden tongue, it tastes bad. Attempts at whining and escaping is futile because he's stronger than you. "There you go. Now sleep."

He helps you down this time, brushing your hair with his fingers and cleaning up after himself. It's nice and fluffy inside the covers. Gojou takes your hand again, pressing another kiss on the back of it. Shorter than the last time but the intensity hasn't changed.

"Don't leave." It’s basically a whisper, but Gojou freezes immediately. There's no sound for a while and you can't see what's happening because of your drooping eyelids. Alcohol is great at inducing sleep. A rustling sound and his fingers interlocks with yours.

“You want me to stay? I’d almost say you like me.” His voice is low as well, but still with a teasing lilt, like he's trying to help you fall asleep. So considerate. Always so considerate.

"Maybe." The word trails off into a mumble. Alcohol also gets rid of your filters and the understanding of when to stop talking.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Dunno… You're making me feel weird things…" Digging yourself further into the covers, you try to block out even the faint lamplight. Having none of that, Gojou pulls you out from the blanket cave, ignoring your whines.

"You'll suffocate in there. I'm fine with doing CPR but Nanami might not. What do you mean by 'weird things'?"

"I don't know… There was like… this thing inside my stomach when you did the thing out in the uh… place. My insides felt itchy and weird thanks to you. Take that!" It probably could not have been more easier to catch your fist. "Noooo, you deserve to be hit! You did something to me… That's why I feel so weird when I'm around you. Ever since the beach trip… I sometimes get heart thumps when I see you… It doesn't make sense why I'm feeling this… I don't feel it with other people…"

In an attempt to show how annoyed you are, you try to flail around on the bed but it comes out more as a tiny jiggle. Like a caterpillar. Gojou lets out a chuckle. It sounds like he’s laughing at you. Smacking him comes to mind but you’re comfortable right now so you’ll forgive him. By now you’re just mumbling into the blanket.

"Because like… it's the same. You know? This, this… whatever this is… Like in the movies, the fluffy ones. When the girl falls in love with the guy. They show like the whole thing with like the thingies… The close up, the blush, heartbeat getting quicker in the background… Thump thump, yeah? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Silence is his answer. You know he's still there because his hand is still connected to yours.

Sleep addles your mind. There's a whole lot of words popping up, like "Gojou" and "dinner" and "date" for some reason. But it's too late and everything is shutting down. Softly, slowly, you sink into slumber.

"Gojou?" Still nothing. "Hmmm you're asleep as well, huh? That's fine, that's good. You do so much to save everyone, you deserve a break. Like a hero… So brave, so selfless… Really stupid as well, so immature… Hn, maybe I do like you…"

"Say that again?" Oh, he's back. And he's gently shaking your hand, trying to keep you awake. But your consciousness is slipping away and soon everything turns into a pleasant hum.

The last thing you feel is something soft pressing against your forehead.

Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

ι’м нєяє ƒσя уσυ

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вυ¢ку вαяηєѕ χ яєα∂єя

Rєqυєѕт: (ANON) hi! i absolutely love your work!! i’m not sure if you’re doing requests but if you’re up for it can you please write a fluffy bucky x reader fic? maybe something along the lines of the reader kinda going through a rough patch and bucky and the team notice, bucky talks to you and helps you feel better and then later the team has a movie night and just some real tooth rotting fluff lol. it definitely does not need to be exact to my request !!! thank you so much <333

ωαяηιηgѕ: mentions of anxiety (possible attack), depressive episode, and insomnia; major angst but tooth rotting fluff!

αυтнσя'ѕ ησтє: i freaking love this request so much. i’m doing so much smut in my stories it’s nice to just sit back and cuddle bucky lol [as per usual timeline has everyone alive and well because i reject *nf*n*ty w*r and *ndg*m* ;)]

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You sat alone in the dark just as the day before; and the day before that, and the day before that.

Recently, there’s been a higher demand for the Avengers help and truthfully it’d been extremely draining for everyone. Thankfully thought, this entire week nobody had called an avengers level threat. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t been able to get any shut eye.

Now here you were again wide awake in the early hours of the day. It was dead silent in your room; you could hear the blood rushing in your ears and the soft thumps of your heart beat. Your breathing was irregular since you were so aware of everything little thing your body was doing and feeling.

The clothes you wore felt gross moving along your skin with each breath you took. The blankets overheating your legs. Everything was becoming overwhelming and your anxiety spiked.

You practically jumped out of bed and turned your light on. You went to open the curtains to let some source of light in; the moon was bright that night. But when you did so your eyes shut involuntarily from the brightness of the morning sun you weren’t aware of.

“It’s morning?” you said to yourself.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, tears brimming your eyes.

You breathed out heavily, sighing, and went to your dresser to grab some day appropriate clothes. You went into the bathroom and fixed your appearance applying an extra amount of concealer and blush to hide that desperate tiredness in your face.

When you felt you were approachable you put on a happy face just like the day before, before heading to the kitchen to grab some food. At least you were still feeding yourself and had somewhat of an appetite left.

When you came practically the entire team was down there.

“Good morning!” you said cheerfully.

“Morning!” everyone said back matching your enthusiasm.

“How did everyone sleep?” you asked. You usually ask this almost to vicariously live through them; wishing for the restful nights everyone described.

“Great.”

“Like a baby.”

“Pretty good, you?” Bucky said.

You paused because usually no one asked you the same question, which was why you kept asking. You supposed that of course some day, someone was bound to ask about your night.

“Oh, um… could've been better,” technically that wasn’t a lie.

“Sorry to hear, doll.”

“Oh, it's fine,” you smiled and waved off.

“Anybody got plans for today?” Nat asked everyone; no one answered except for a couple of shrugs and head shakes.

“You guys up for a movie night?”

“Yeah, sure,” everyone said.

Everyone stayed almost the entire day in the common room watching movies, eating snacks, and talking about funny stories from missions. You stayed quiet not having any energy to converse with everyone. You felt like you were running on fumes.

You were so out of it you hadn’t realized the looks exchanged throughout everyone that knew something was off for you. Although you weren’t the loudest or most enthusiastic person on the team, you also weren’t one to not engage in conversations.

Every question or involvement of some sort in each conversation was always quickly dismissed or validated by you. Eventually you checked out entirely, holding what was possibly your seventh cup of coffee of the day.

“Huh?” you didn’t hear the question asked by Nat.

“Y/n, you doing ok? You look sleepy,” Nat said, smiling softly.

“Uh, yeah I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll head to bed.”

Everyone looked at you strangely as you got up.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, feeling slightly more insecure.

“It’s six p.m.,” Steve said, “Pretty early for bed, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that like your tenth cup of coffee?” Nat started.

“Are you alright, Y/n?”

“What’s going on?”

“You look pale.”

Everything was getting too overwhelming, voices echoed in your head. Tears started to form in your eyes as you stared down at your coffee before setting it down; your hands were trembling. You wanted to run away, so that’s what you did.

“Sorry, I-” you ran off hearing your name being called by some of the team.

You got to your room and slammed the door behind you. You felt humiliated and embarrassed. Your body was still shaking and you breathed heavily trying to calm down before you have an anxiety attack.

Suddenly, a knock at your door scared the hell out of breaking you momentarily from your trance. You swung the door open to find Bucky standing at your door, worrisome written all over his face.

“Can I come in?”

You couldn’t say anything. You wanted to but just stood there frustrated with yourself.

“It’s ok, doll. I’m here,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you in a warm hug.

“I don’t know why I feel like this. I hate it. I can’t sleep, I barely eat, I’m so tired,” you cried to him.

“I know,” he said.

“I just wanna- I just wanna disappear for a bit you know? Like go somewhere where I don’t have to worry about everything bad.”

“Me too,” he comforted.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence.

“For what? You don’t have to be sorry.”

“For this,” you sniffled, “For getting boogers and tears on your shirt.”

“It’s ok,” he chuckled.

“Y/n, I know exactly how it feels. And I know that bottling all that up just makes it worse; makes you feel horrible and gross. I don’t like seeing you like this. Not sleeping, you hardly talk anymore; and it’s not just this past week we noticed your shift. I know things are hard and you feel like telling people is just gonna make them think you’re weird or a burden, but I promise you you’re not. We’re here to talk, be there for you because we know you’d do the same for us. We’re family, and we love you. We all do. I love you. So talk to me ok?”

You were a mess. Thinking about it again, you hadn’t had a restful night in a very long time; you couldn’t remember. You weren’t taking care of yourself as you normally would and it was true you spent more time alone afraid that you’d be a bother if the team noticed your upset attitude.

Tears were falling heavily down your cheeks to your neck; some dripped to the floor. Your hands were practically gripping Bucky’s forearms pulling close to you. You wiped away the tears quickly and sniffled.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whispered, and he hugged you tightly.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” you asked him.

“Ok,” he walked over to the bed with you and climbed under the sheets.

He was already wearing sweatpants but you weren’t. Without any care, you pulled your bottoms off for they would’ve been uncomfortable to wear to sleep and crawled beside Bucky to fall asleep.

There was no tension between you, it was quite domestic almost. You curled up to Bucky’s side cuddling his warm body before closing your eyes. Bucky’s fingers traced along your arm that laid across his stomach while the other rubbed your head delicately.

You opened your eyes once more and looked up at Bucky and leaned in to kiss him softly. You rested your forehead against his own and gingerly bumped your noses.

“I love you too Buck,” you whispered.

Bucky smiled and kissed you again. You closed your eyes and for the first time in too long you had a restful night; limbs tangled with Bucky’s, someone you love and trust more than anyone in the whole world. And thankfully, he felt the same way for you.

The next morning, you actually woke up. You felt rested. You stretched your limbs out before remembering about last night and Bucky. You looked around the room and didn’t see him.

You looked at your clock on your bedside table and noticed it was already eleven in morning; almost noon. You got change quickly and went downstairs to find everyone laughing and eating breakfast.

When you got down and joined the team Bucky looked at you and got up to hug you and kiss you gently. He smiled and sat with you at the kitchen counter where there was a plate of breakfast waiting just for you.

“Morning, how’d you sleep?” Nat asked, cheerfully just like you do to them.

“I slept,” you ended your sentence making everyone chuckled and smile.

“Seriously though, I slept very well,” you looked to Bucky and gave him a little kiss before digging into your food.

“Oh, you guys?” you asked after a couple of bites.

“Sorry about yesterday.”

“Don’t be, we talked about this,” Bucky rubbed your thigh softly.

“I know but I still feel kinda bad for kinda ruining movie night. Can we try again tonight?” you asked.

Everyone smiled and looked to each other as if to see who had plans and eventually nodded. They came forward and huddled around you to give you a big group hug making you laugh as their cheesy antic.

“You guys are so cheesy,” you laughed.

“We love you, Y/n!” Nat shouted.

“We love you!” everyone followed.

“I love you guys too. Very much.”

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #buckybarnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fluff #bucky barnes smut

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qslovebot · 3 years

Text

Trivial Diffusion: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and the reader have been pretending to be rivals for quite some time, jokingly taking shots at each other and trying to win games against each other to prove higher intelligence. One day, Spencer suggests they play something else and little do they know that game turns into a whole lot more play.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning/Includes: playful hatred, friendly-fire rivalry, kissing, protected sex (hardly written), tension to smut to fluff.

A/N: lightly based on The Name of The Game, by ABBA

“You know what I think, Dr.Reid, is that secretly, deep, deep down in the skinny soul that fills your skinny body... you like me.” You teased, setting down your cards. That was it, the game was over, you had won.

Spencer Reid shook his head, “I would say we’re acquainted and not friends. Coworkers at worst.” He set down his cards to show you he had nearly nothing. Chances, chances, chances. “Derek, was she cheating? I think she was cheating.”

Derek Morgan was entirely asleep in his seat. It was just after the BAU had been sent on another big case and everyone had been working on it from the BAU until you all could get the jet. It was nearing nine o’clock but nearly everyone on the jet was sleeping from a day of overworking at home. All but you and ye of little faith. Hotch confirmed that the team didn’t start interacting with the police until tomorrow so that everyone could crash at the hotel before it all actually began, so it was a matter of time before everyone woke again.

Spencer was good at his games, knew probability well and could probably win against the averagely smart man, but not you. He could never beat you at cards and that nearly killed him, so every time you flew back to or from Quantico, he asked to play, hoping he would somehow win. This had been going on for months along with the little jokes and friendly fire you had with him. As much as you pretended to hate each other, you were both pretty transparent to the rest of the team.

“Sorry that I’m not your favourite member of the team,” you smiled at him playfully and tossed him the reorganized deck. He caught it with a small smile. “If you want, we can play something else and I’ll let you win.”

He shook his head and cracked his knuckles. “Battle of wits. Random trivia. I want to see you flail and drown.”

“Violent, Doc.” You raised your eyebrows at him. He had confidence in something just as risky- his mistake. There wasn't time, though. “We land in ten, though, so on the way home from this case if you’re up for it.”

“Are you too tired or are you afraid to lose?”

“Neither,” you sighed, cracking your knuckles. “Fine, you’re on.”

----

At the hotel, everyone was groaning and grumbling and ready to crash for the night. You guessed working from the BAU for two and a half days before getting to the case was too much for them, but with your cup of sugar with a little coffee, you were wide awake.

The second Hotch dolled out the keys, you grabbed Emily who was moving like a zombie and pulled her to her designated room. You were all lucky enough to get your own rooms on this case so once you dropped her and her bags off there then found your own room next to hers.

The first thing you did was pull yourself out of your office clothes and into your pyjamas. You slipped on long, flowy, pale blue, loose-fabric pants that felt cool against your skin as well as sat on your hips paired with a simple white tank top. You kept your bra on just to keep a little decency and let your hair fall down around your shoulders, brushing it through a little.

You were prepared to win against Spencer. That was it, flat out. You would win. You both were the geniuses of the team and he had been waiting for a moment to prove he was better than you in some way, but that would be his downfall. He wanted to win so desperately and you wouldn't let that happen.

It had been months of this snarky attitude from him that you know was only in play. Maybe this would make him give up when you won. You slipped out of your room and up to the door of the room you saw Spencer walk into. The knock you gave was quiet enough not to disturb anyone but him and it only took him a moment to answer, his lips pursed straight.

"Come in," he said, gesturing. You saw his eyes flicker over what you were wearing as he had probably never seen you so entirely casual. You narrowed your eyebrows at him as you slipped into his room.

The room was identical to yours but smelled a little different. "I love what you've done with the place, wow, Dr.Reid..." You joked, sitting on the edge of his bed. He shut the door slowly, pressing his back to it with that crooked smile of his. "So are you ready to lose?"

"I-I don't believe I am," he said, hands behind his back. Something was off... he didn't stutter when he was in that teasing pretend hatred. Never- it was always as if that was his comfort in trying to beat you. "Let's begin."

You raised your eyebrows and slid onto the floor at the edge of the bed and pat the spot in front of you against the wall. He didn't protest, in fact, he sat right down with his laptop.

"What's this?" You asked.

"This is Garcia who searched up trivia questions and will be asking us. To answer, we hit this button in front of us. If the answer is wrong, it goes to the other person. Got it?" Spencer set the computer up.

"Yeah..." you nodded, setting your eyes on Garcia. "Hey, Penelope!"

"If it isn't my favourite (Y/N)!" She exclaimed, blowing kisses through the screen. "I must admit I'm a little scared. Spencer here called me and he sounds like he's about to... murder you."

You looked up at Spencer through your eyelashes and back down at Penelope. "He's the one about to be murdered, Pen. Both of you, brace yourselves. I'm ready."

"And now I am even more scared, thank you for that Elton John and Madonna..." Penelope clicked through her computer.

Spencer looked at you now with confusion. For a genius, he wasn't very well-educated in celebrity culture. "This is why you're going down, Reid." You laughed.

His voice raised in pitch, "Because my-my-my name isn't Elton John and I don't understand the reference?" Oh, he was so going to lose.

Spencer set the button out. Convenient that he had them... maybe he'd been planning for this longer than you'd thought. Penelope on the screen sat to the right of you both and she had all her questions lined up. She did a little drumroll, then began.

"Name the number that is three more than one-fifth of one-tenth of one-half of 5,000, go!"

It took you a second but you and Spencer hit the button at the same time. "53!" You said in unison.

"Fuck!" You laughed, rubbing your eye.

There was a slight clicking noise on Garcia's end and you watched her face go from confusion to wide-eyed wonder. "You both are too smart for your own good-"

"Ne-Next question, please," Spencer said, his face in his hands. If the whole thing was like this, how would either one of you win?

More questions passed, some were ties, some were won by Spencer and some by you, but at the end of Penelope's list.. you had tied and it was 11:30pm. With each question, you felt the tension in the room worsen. Each loss, each win, your stomach had butterflies. Who was going to win this? You and Spencer, after an hour and a half of losses, wins, and ties and Garcia getting more scared by the second, you tied.

Then of course there were the tiebreakers which you both tied on. After five tiebreakers, Garcia was done. "Congrats, you're both smart as hell! I am tired, so I'll let you little birdies wrestle it out, just don't blame the injuries on me."

"Garcia, no-" Spencer protested, needing to win.

Penelope waved goodbye and Spencer reached for the laptop, but he couldn't stop her. "Garcia, out!" She ended the video call, leaving Spencer and you alone.

Well, nobody won now. Nobody lost either. Spencer, you could see he was done, just done. All the talk of winning and he really got so nervous he stuttered around you. You grinned, tilting your head against his bed and just laughing. Nobody won!

For some reason, the tension in the room was still thick. You noticed it when you finally stopped laughing at the circumstances when you looked at Spencer with his head in his hands. He wasn't really upset, he was just confused as to how it came to a draw with you like this.

"Was it my tits that threw off your game, Reid?" You teased, standing up and going to the coffee-maker in the corner of his room. "Is it okay if I have the Earl Grey here?"

"Yeah, that's- that's fine," he nodded, swallowing hard. His pretty face was still contorted into confusion. You hopped up on the counter and made the tea with the teabags complimentary to the hotel. "Did you cheat?"

"Did I what?" You laughed again, leaning over so your forearms resting on your thighs. "You think I have tricks up my sleeve, Reid, I'm not even wearing sleeves."

"My IQ tells me you should have lost."

"You and your noble IQ," you blew on your tea. "Want some tea?"

He rubbed his temples and stood up, walking over tiredly. You hadn't noticed what he was wearing at all, you'd been too focused on the trivia. He was wearing flannel pyjama pants and a large sweater. It was the most casual you'd seen him before. "Orange Pekoe, please."

"Got it," you turned and made him a cup of tea with the machine. You'd never really hung out with Spencer before away from work. On the jets, you were always still surrounded by coworkers. Even though you were alone with him earlier, Garcia's presence was there. Now it was just you, Spencer, and the tension that wouldn't seem to lift. It was unexplainable- how it was still there. What was it really and why wouldn't it thin out? "Here you go."

Through handing him the tea, your hands touched and you pretended to be disgusted by it for a laugh, but he just exhaled sharply. Spencer sat on the edge of his bed facing you on the counter, sweater sleeves over his hands that held the mug, curls falling over his face.

Why was he always looking like he was solving math questions in his head? When he drank his tea, you drank yours. Why were you even still in his room at all... he hardly liked you, he just wanted to win and now that neither of you had, you were still here? It was a question for both you and him, but would this question come to a draw as well?

"I don't think I've mentioned how much I like your hair, Reid." You said out of the blue. "I think I've been too focused on kicking your ass in every way possible to properly compliment you."

"You've never kicked my ass physically, so you can't say in every possible way if you-"

"I was trying to compliment you but if you want me to actually get up and kick you in the ass, I will." You threatened playfully. Spencer grinned down at his tea. "I just think you have nice hair and I am very jealous it's not mine." You opened and shut your fingers like a pair of scissors.

Spencer straightened himself out and shook his hair out of his face. "I- thank you?"

You nodded, "You're welcome."

No more words were said until you both finished your tea. Why were you still here? Why didn't he ask you to go and why did he keep looking at you with thoughts in his eyes and why the hell did the tension keep building? What was it leading to?

Spencer eventually stood up and placed his mug in the sink next to yours, standing next to where you sat on the counter. You looked at him through a strand of your hair that had fallen in your face and you moved it to better understand. He mirrored you for a second, pushing his hair behind his ear as well before asking that one, fatal question. The one question he gave, knowing that if you lost, he had won and if you answered correctly, you had won. It was the unofficial, official ending to the game, but at a risk.

"In the 1830s, what scientifically gifted woman led to the coining of the term 'scientist,' because 'man of science' didn’t apply?" He asked, his eyes narrowing in. This was it... damn it, your brain was scrambled... as to why? Unexplainable.

"Mary..." you said, grasping at something you knew but it was clouded by something else you couldn't recognize. As if a clock was ticking, your heart was pounding. "Mary, her name was Mary..."

Spencer just stood there, right next to where you sat on the counter as you searched, racking every inch of your brain to find it. You couldn't give up or else he had won and you'd never hear the end of it and he wouldn't play cards with you and you wouldn't have an excuse to talk to him... wait, where did all those thoughts come from.

"Reid, I have it, I know it, I just-"

He looked at the watch on his wrist, his loose curls falling over his face again. Goddamnit, Spencer Reid... You only had seconds as Spencer counted down. Mary... Mary Smith... Mary So- Mary Somer... Mary Somerville.

"One, ze-"

"Mary Somerville!" You said, maybe a little too loudly. But you knew it was too late. Spencer had won. You sat there, looking at your hands for a moment while he stood there in what seemed like shock at his winning, but the odd tension still pressed, even with your loss. It seemed like Spencer felt it too because you looked up at each other at the exact same time and it was a silently-made mutual decision that led to both your lips and his crashing into the other person's.

It happened so quickly- you opened your knees to allow him closer, your hands on either side of his face, holding his jaw as you kissed him with the same power he kissed you. His hands on your waist and knee. So this was what the tension lead to, huh?

Kissing him from slightly above him gave you the advantage of kissing harder, which he easily allowed and returned. You slid your fingers back into his hair, the hair you had so awkwardly complimented. Of course, you understood yourself and your awkward comments about his hair because in reality, you meant 'please kiss me already'.

There was no noise other than the travelling of hands, short breaths, and lips on lips in the room and that sound was much better than the entire silence from the moment before. Hatred was never hatred, not even when it was mock hatred. It was always that pending feeling of hidden lust that shied behind mockery and mindset. And it was fucking hot.

He didn't protest when you broke the kiss to pull his sweater over his head. He didn't care when you gripped his shoulder and pulled his hair with the other hand. All this time you'd spend pretending to be rivals was being released into the air in the means of pheromones and you were all he really wanted then, there, now.

It was becoming messier by the second as you pulled your tank top over your head and tossed it aside like you did his sweater. His hands of course travelled upward to where they needed to be. You'd thought him inexperienced, but perhaps you were wrong.

"I fucking hate you," you mumbled against his lips and tugging his hair, a grin playing on your lips as he reached to untie the strings of his pants. He looked up for a moment, his eyes were half-lidded but determined.

"I hate y-you too," he managed the same grin and pulled you back into that same kiss he performed so vehemently. Oh, he was a mess. Spencer Reid would be the death of you. His long fingers moved delicately over your body, leaving goosebumps over your chest and the feeling of ice trails on your hot skin. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him trapped and close.

Your lips left his mouth, trailing down his cheek, then his jaw, below his jaw. His breath was sharp and your lips were teasing. He smelled good, too. If only you'd figured out things were supposed to be this way sooner...

Poor Doctor Reid's hands were so cold compared to your body. You let them explore as you continued to kiss and lightly bite his neck. It was your turn to ask the question of risk, "Do you want this, Reid?"

He nodded more than he needed to, kissing you properly again. "Yes." A solid, strict, and determined- yet lust-filled yes. It was signal enough. Kissing led to touching and more touching lead to breathing harder. You doubted Spencer Reid was a virgin at all with the way he knew exactly where to touch...

He didn't even bother taking you to the bed that was six feet away from the counter. He didn't care and neither did you and it took him a second to actually get going, but once he did, everything fell right into place. His touch was soft, but his hips rough. You were breathing hard as he went, doing everything perfectly with his perfect body and his perfect hair right back in his face. He looked like hell, but in the best possible way.

Spencer Reid was, in fact, the death of you. Everything was in haze- breathing, kissing, touches, thrusts, trying to be as quiet as you could but small whimpers slipped from your lips and occasionally noises from him. Your nails in his shoulder and on his back as he practically fell to pieces in front of you, coming undone the same way you did only seconds later. You had to physically cover your mouth to stay quiet.

The air became ten times hotter when he rested his head on your bare shoulder, not even bothering to pull out. He was there, you were there... you had just fucked the man who you had pretended was your enemy and god, was it good. You were surprised that this had happened at all, it was so unbelievably unguessed earlier. You just wanted to win and your loss came to a prize anyway.

He took a second to recover, then kissed your shoulder which was unexpected and oddly sweet. You thought it was rivalry sex to diffuse tension, but that wasn't how it felt to you anymore and... maybe not to him either. Spencer pulled out, discarding protection and cleaning himself up a little. No words were spoken now as he put his pyjama pants back on and you fixed yourself up too, slipping your legs into your loose pants and tank top back over your head.

You took a cup that was belonging to the hotel and filled it with water, then you slipped off the counter and handed it to Spencer. When he took it, he looked just like you probably had when he had kissed your shoulder. "Thank you." He said, blinking a few times. Were things awkward for him now? Was he expecting you to leave, now?

"I can go if you want me to, Spencer," you said, pointing back at the door. "If I've overstayed, I'm sorry."

"N-no-" he blurted, nearly spitting his water out. "No, you haven't overstayed, I like you here- I just... I don't know how good that was and my mind is kind of everywhere because it happened so quickly and it was all so-so-so unexpected and I... wow."

He ran a hand through his hair frantically, his fingers shaking a little. There were those butterflies again...

"Spencer, it was good. It was more than good, holy fuck." You assured him, stepping closer. He set down the cup of water. "You did so well, I can hardly-" Your shaking knee gave out at just the right time and he caught you by your hands before you hit the ground. "See?"

He was smiling that shy, crooked grin. Everything was ten times sweeter now and it seemed like maybe you didn't really need to pretend to hate him anymore. It's much easier to humiliate, degrade and just generally shit all over someone than it is to admit that you like them. But here you were, looking up at him.

"I told you, Dr.Reid, that somewhere deep down, you liked me."

"Coworkers at worst," he reminded you jokingly.

"You just fucked me nearly senseless, I don't think 'coworkers at worst' works on me anymore." You grinned, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears. "Just kiss me again, Dr.Reid."

He didn't even hesitate to take your face in his hands, kissing you sweetly, a little different than earlier. This time he wasn't entirely frenzied by the rush and need to touch and grasp and this time, there was meaning... there was diffusion... and it was loving.

The only real issue was that tomorrow, both of you had to face a team full of profilers who would take greatly accurate guesses as to why you and Spencer suddenly got along.

Tags: @laurakirsten0502

Reblog if you liked, message to be on the taglist, reply with thoughts!

#spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #abba #criminalminds #criminal minds #cmfanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaronhotchner #bau #spencerreidfanfic #spencerreidsmut #spencer reid x reader #spencerreidtension #spencer reid fluff

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aching-tummies · 3 years

Text

Quiet in the Library!

I think I lived out a kink-scenario again completely on accident today (note, this was written a couple of days before posting due to a busy schedule).

My area is currently experiencing an unprecedented heat wave. We're normally a colder climate so built-in AC units are not a thing in our area. Older houses come with ways to heat one's house, but nothing to cool it down because our climate is normally either cold or freezing. On my day off from work I decided that I wanted to go out somewhere with AC to kill time. I had some stuff I needed to work on and some things I needed to print off so I made plans to head to a public library and work/chill for a couple of hours.

I discussed my plan with family members. Some family members are going through medical treatments and stuff, so the entire household has been wary of going outside and potentially bringing germs and other stuff back home with them. I'd be going out for "recreational" purposes. We have a printer at home but it is only connected to someone else's desktop...so if I absolutely had to print something off I'd have to hop onto that computer...which I have done in the past...so the library trip was more for the idea of spending a couple of hours in a building with AC going. I wanted to let family know of my plans so that they wouldn't plan for me to be at home...and also offered the idea of someone tagging along with me if they wanted to beat the heat in the library too.

Turns out someone else was toying with the idea of going on a grocery run but they were on the fence because of the heat wave. I suggested that I'd tag along with them on the grocery trip, help them carry items and all, and then they could drop me off at the library and save me one trip on transit...I'd take transit home when I was ready. With that plan, I suggested that we eat breakfast at home because I had plans to buy lunch outside while on my library trip and I did not want to have to buy or eat two fast-food meals in one day. This was all discussed the night before my day off, fyi.

Plan made, upon waking up we worked together to put breakfast on the table. Unfortunately, my first task upon waking was to chug some ice-cold water out of the fridge. It was hot and I was sweating not even 10 minutes after waking up. The shock of cold water so soon after waking gave me cramps. Imagine how you'd react to being rudely woken up by someone dumping a bucket of ice-water on you...yeah, that's exactly how my stomach reacted. I hid in my room, doubled over with cramps, and left the rest of breakfast prep to family members.

Something went wrong with breakfast, apparently, that resulted in half of the food being inedible so I ended up eating about three mouthfuls of food and leaving the rest for other family members. The spoiled breakfast put other family in a bad mood so they reneged on our plans. Timing-wise, it resulted in a mad dash to the bus stop for me after swallowing my third mouthful of food because I had decided I'd be in the library today. The little food I had eaten was only barely enough to whet my appetite and my stomach was grumbling and snarling for more by the time I reached the bus stop. I rubbed my tummy a little to try to calm it because part of it was still griping over the ice-wakening.

When I got to the area with the library, I had a choice to make: walk further in the heat, by-pass the library, to find food at a nearby food-court first...or hit the library as intended, spend a few hours there, and then search for food hours later. The heat made my decision for me...looking for food first would have resulted in double the amount of walking in the heat because I'd be bypassing the library only to return to it after getting food. My stomach had calmed down on the bus ride (thanks to some discreet tummy rubs) and was no longer grumbling at me.

I hunkered down in the library with my earbuds in. It's been over a year since I set foot in a library due to the pandemic shutting them down for in-person services. I missed this. My favorite thing to do in the summer in previous years was to bring my laptop to a library and enjoy the ambience and the air-conditioning. It doesn't cost anything but transit fare so I did this often before the pandemic hit. I was enjoying myself. I felt a little self-conscious though because people that walked by my table gave me strange looks...and I don't know why. I had my mask on, other people at other tables were doing the same as I--had their laptops out and were working on Word-Processing documents. I'm at the age where I can totally blend in as a post-secondary student...so I couldn't fathom why I was getting strange looks and I kept on checking if my hair was out of place or if I had something on my clothes.

When I wrapped up my work, I shut down my computer and pulled by earbuds out...that's when I realized that the rumbling I felt throughout my three hours at the library was not due to my music being too loud. The grumbles had come back with a vengeance and apparently had been going for at least two and a half hours. Something about tables always seems to act as an echo chamber for stomach growls and these ones were audible...so...yeah...my best guess as to why people were giving me odd looks: my tummy was growling and they heard it.

To add to my embarrassment, a stunningly attractive person was in the table behind me. There was no way he didn't hear my growling tummy. I packed up, printed off my stuff, and left the library in a rush in order to spare myself further embarrassment.

Onto food. I stopped by a nearby convenience store to hunt for drinks. Pro-tip when eating at a food court or going to the movies or something: drinks and snacks are cheaper if you get them from a grocer or a convenience store or something than if you were to get them at the food court or theatre. I know, it's bad to do that to a theatre, but most of the people I know working in theatres tell me that they don't mind if you bring outside food as long as you don't leave evidence...don't throw out your own wrappers and zipper bags in their trash bins and don't leave bottled drinks and stuff lying around. You shouldn't do that sort of thing if you bought concessions at the theatre either...but yeah.

The convenience store here almost always has a "3 for $5" sale on drinks...it's just a matter of which brand/flavors are on sale when I go. I lucked out and it was on 500mL bottles of lemonade that day...so I trudged over to the food court carrying 1.5 litres of drinks. I was hungry and it was hot, so I ended up buying some of those premade sushi platters. It wasn't a big one...8 pieces or so. I bought a small bento box as well that basically just had some meat on top of the rice and a side of vegetables. I was hungry, so I was sure that this amount of food was alright for me to finish in one sitting. In previous trips I'd bought a 2-item large bento and the same sushi platter...I'd be able to finish the bento and maybe eat 2 of the rolls before being full in previous trips, so I was sure that what I had bought would fit comfortably in my stomach.

I forgot to factor in thirst. It was a hot day and all, so I ended up drinking more lemonade than I otherwise would have. I drank 2 of the bottles during my meal...so an entire litre of drink went into my stomach along with the food. By the end of my meal all that was left on my plate was one roll from the sushi platter. I brought it to my lips but my stomach definitely didn't want it and it was too hard to swallow.

My gut was packed. The litre of lemonade (as well as about half a cup worth of water from a waterbottle) filled up my tummy and brought me to 'stuffed' rather than simply 'full', The food alone would have comfortably brought me to 'full' as I usually only have my waterbottle with me for meals so I don't drink too much.

I was wearing a loose button-up shirt over top of a camisole and pants that day. The clothes were very flattering and highlighted my slimmer waist. I've got a higher BMI than is considered normal/healthy...but my figure is basically on the bigger end of average rather than into full blown obese territory...and most of my fat distribution goes toward my bust, arms, and thighs so my stomach was flat in those clothes. Not after lunch, that's for sure.

My stuffed tummy was aching, stretched and fit to bursting. The glut of food and drink had rounded out my stomach and I was immensely glad for the loose button-up hiding the evidence. I sat at the table for a while, unwilling and unable to stand up because my stomach felt so heavy and there was pressure at the base of my esophagus from all the food. I was terrified that I'd throw up if I moved and jostled my tummy. I spent a few minutes discreetly rubbing my tummy under the table as I flipped through headlines on my phone. I wasn't paying attention to my phone, mentally begging my stomach to start digesting so that I could finally move.

When I finally got up, I opted to walk around the mall for a bit in hopes of coaxing faster digestion. My stomach churned and sloshed the whole time. Surprisingly, there wasn't really any gas in my guts. It was all liquid and solid food. The rice must have absorbed some of the liquid because everything felt like it had swelled up inside of my belly. The stretch was intense. Thanks to my clothes, I felt like some of those "surprise inspection" fanarts I've seen floating around. If I had a partner and a discreet/private setting, I wouldn't have minded playing out a "surprise inspection" scenario. I was alone in public and terribly shy and embarrassed about my tummy though. If anyone tried to press their palm into my tummy at that moment I'm sure I would have been embarrassed and that I would have thrown up from all of the pressure in and on my tummy. I was stuffed to the point it hurt--my stomach felt like it was on the verge of a rupture.

#stomach kink #tummy growls #stomach growls #stomach ache #stuffing #tummy ache #hunger kink

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powered-by-paranoia · 3 years

Text

one more time | Rex

pairing: captain Rex x admiral!reader

summary: you give Rex a wrist-chrono. in reaction, although he seems fine at first, he now constantly avoids you. this somehow leads to the two of you kissing. find out how!

word count: 6241

warnings: none

a/n: I’ve been sitting on this story since December (you can see I had two special occasion attempts to post it), but here it is. finally. again, I tried to keep it gender-neutral, but let me know if I slipped up. Winter Fete is supposed to be something Christmassy or whatever, and Affection Day is... me being shit at coming up with holiday names.

this is kind of a series now I guess, but each fic can be read as a standalone fic (there’s also our fallen heroes and jaig eyes, if you’re thirsty for more. but there’s no smut. not yet. not yet.)

"He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise."

Isabel Allende

An icy shiver ran up your spine as you glanced out the viewport. You were sitting in your office aboard your ship, having just turned around to take your mind off your responsibilities for a few minutes and sip your caf in peace. But the image — that of the lush planet you were stationed above — triggered a flashback you had been trying to fend off these past days. Only it wasn’t a visual flashback, you realized. It was a sentiment that you remembered vividly from when you were a child and your parents had gifted you a trip to Coruscant for Winter Fete.

You remembered the excitement of seeing your home planet from outer space. Your first ever interstellar trip — and to Coruscant, of all places. The festivities, the Winter Fete spirit, they were perhaps still present on Coruscant and on your home planet, but not there. Not in the coolness of space and the warship you commanded. Not among the lifeless bodies you had to wander through only a few days earlier — the bodies recovered from the battle. The bodies someone would have to deliver to worried families.

That cheerfulness now only lived in your memory. You could hardly remember the last Winter Fete you had spent with your family. Or any such holiday, for that matter. But what was easy to recall was the warm feeling you experienced every time you gifted things. The search for the perfect match, the smile on people’s faces as they realize you know them better than they expected. It had always brought you joy to make presents.

But this chain of thoughts now brought back another memory, albeit an awkward one that you wouldn’t admit was slightly painful as well. A recent one. At the start of this campaign, you had gifted Rex a military-style, top-of-the-line wrist chrono, which he had been reluctant to accept at first. After a few jokes on how this could be considered a military offense, and quite some heavy amount of polite convincing, he had eventually taken it and you had even noticed him wearing it later. It warmed your heart. And for a short period of time, you had gotten the chance to relish in the sensation once again. But only for a short period of time.

Because half a day later he had started to avoid you like you’d just been exposed to the Brainworm Rot.

It wasn’t as obvious at first — turning corners the moment you sighted him, pretending to look the other way when you passed by — but soon you just had to admit it to yourself when you spotted him turning one-eighty degrees only to disappear when he must have realized he was walking towards you.

You stared at the darkness of space, lost in thought and bordering on the line of anxiety. There were no answers coming from the darkness, only questions. Had he found out you had re-gifted it? Your mother had originally bought it for you as a Winter Fete present, but you liked your older one better and considered motivation before a battle was a decent enough excuse to offer a present to your favorite Captain. He surely couldn’t blame you for it though, could he? You barely had time to finish your cups of caf most days; how could you possibly find the time to go gift-shopping?

Then again, perhaps he concluded by himself that the gesture was offensive. But back when you gave it to him, he hadn’t seemed the least upset about it. He had even smiled and blushed a little. And if someone had the guts to call you out on your bantha-shit, it was Rex. It was one of the things you valued most about your friendship. You always talked freely, and he would never beat around the bush or keep his opinions for himself, even if they went against yours. Besides that, he always delivered contradictions in such a polite manner that you recognized he had your best interest at heart.

Your thoughts spiraled, and you bore a heavy heart with guilt for putting him in such a delicate position. You had to apologize. But in order to do that, you needed to find him and… not let him escape this time.

***

On their way to the mess hall, Rex had been called out at least three times by Fives and Echo for constantly scanning his surroundings. He had brushed it off by telling them he was preoccupied looking for General Skywalker in case he passed by, so they could have a talk about some mission he wouldn’t elaborate on.

Fives decided to push on and jokingly asked, “You mean the mission in which you got that chrono?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Captain. That’s quite a fancy one. I didn’t know you had your eye on the latest tech,” Echo chimed in before he could react.

Rex was now even tenser than before, but he played stupid. “Latest tech? This?” He brought it to his face to pretend to examine it better. “I had no idea.”

“So where did you get it from?” Fives insisted.

Million excuses ran through his mind, and he pretended to study the chrono for a few seconds more to get his thoughts in order. But he settled on the lamest one. “One of the locals gave it to me before the battle. As thanks for showing up, I suppose. I couldn’t really understand the language.”

“Just in time for Affection Day,” Echo teased, and it appeared as if he was twisting the knife. As if he knew.

The idea that you had offered him a gift had been enough to make Rex’s knees weak that day. But after you had left, and he could freely relish in the feeling, a troubling notion had snuck into his mind. He had nothing to give you back. And worse, after realizing that it had been an Affection Day gift, he had done some research to find out what the holiday really meant. That way, he found out it was similar to the Winter Fete season, but mainly practiced between lovers, sometimes really close friends — people exchanged gifts.

Exchanged.

At first, he had thought he would be able to come up with something. At least something symbolic. But he ended up dismissing every idea that popped up, only to end up now, in the last few days before returning to Coruscant, with nothing. He wouldn’t have let that affect him as much if it didn’t draw other, more depressing conclusions he didn’t want to think of at that moment.

Shortly after the three of them found a place to sit and eat in the mess hall, he inwardly cursed.

“I was planning to show you the new weapon upgrades we’re getting, boys. But I forgot my datapad in the room,” he muttered. “I’ll go get it. Hold on.”

***

Rex wouldn’t have the time to register what was happening. As the lights turned on in the barrack, the door shut behind him and there you were — standing next to his bed with his datapad in hand. He looked around. But you were alone.

“I suppose this is what you’re looking for, hm?” you asked, handing him the datapad. He stared at it as if not fully believing it was his. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I only want to talk.”

You did nothing to hide hurt in your voice. He took the datapad from your hand and placed it on the side table next to his bunk bed. “You can tell me anything,” he tried to say in a comforting voice, but the guilt slit through.

“Well, to be fair, I am here to listen. I want you to do the talking.”

He paused, but you had the feeling he knew exactly why you were there, and he was trying to waste time. “What about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Tell me it’s not just my imagination.”

He feigned confusion. “It is. I guess… we’ve both been quite busy, haven’t we?”

“Captain.” You held your gaze, although he looked away for a second. “You know you can speak freely with me. It’s about the gift, isn’t it? I’m sorry if it offended you or made you uncomfortable, I was only—”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted you, eager to deny it. You could see on his face that he had lowered his defenses. But he wouldn’t crack just yet.

“Then what is it about?”

He shrugged. “I told you. We’ve just been off-sync, I suppose.”

“Yesterday you started walking in the opposite direction as soon as you noticed me.”

“I’d forgotten something in the briefing room. I don’t even recall seeing you yesterday.”

“Like you forgot your datapad in one of the training rooms? You’re distracted. What’s it about then, if it’s not about the gift?”

“I appreciated your gift, Admiral. It’s just that…” he trailed off, but you decided to give him time to find his words. You’d sit there in awkward silence for an entire hour if you had to. “I have nothing to give back.”

You frowned and tilted your head. “Give back? What for?”

Rex brought his hands together, struggling to make the words leave his mouth. “For… Affection Day. Isn’t that the custom? Exchanging gifts?”

You froze, your mouth hanging as you rewinded the past couple of dates. You hadn’t thought of that holiday since you were in middle school and forced to exchange gifts with a random classmate. The timing of your gift had been so poor — no wonder he was avoiding you all through the ship. You panicked.

“What day?” you said, your voice in a higher pitch than usual, then laughed nervously. “I gave it to you as a simple gift from one friend to another. I didn’t take you for someone to care when such a holiday was around.”

He shrugged. “Someone mentioned it a few days before, and I suppose it stuck with me. Still, you made time to get me a gift, while I can’t even think of something you could possibly want of what I can offer.”

You knew exactly what it was, but you also knew better than to throw it in the conversation like that. Instead, you threw in a little sincerity. “I re-gifted it.” His head perked up. “My mother gave it to me a few months ago during Winter Fete. I liked my old one better. I thought you would enjoy this one.”

“I did— I am! But…”

You went on, seeing he didn’t look so relaxed or even convinced, “I did not give it to you expecting something in return, or because of some special occasion. It was just a sympathetic gesture I thought I might as well do for a friend. I’m sorry for the confusion — I shouldn’t have put you into this situation.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Admiral,” he said, but his voice sounded a little more formal than before. As if he had switched back to his default military tone. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have handled it this way.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” you teased.

He smiled.

***

One day after the gift fiasco, you finally reached Coruscant, and it had been the last time you had seen each other. You both had a week of leave to look forward to, but as you bid your farewells prior to landing, neither mentioned it.

Your last day on Coruscant found you cooking yourself dinner. All alone — you watched as the water for the pasta started boiling and tried to remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal. You smiled to yourself as you poured too much pasta into the pot. You could never get it right.

It was a pity you had no one to share it with. Your mind automatically drifted to Rex, as you knew he was probably out with his brothers at 79’s. It was their custom to spend as much time there as possible whenever they were allowed free time. But your smile faltered as you realized — of course they spent their time there. Where else?

***

Back at 79’s, Rex was wondering whether Fives had always been this annoying, or if it was just a result of drinking too much. Didn’t he use to enjoy spending time with them, there? Why was he suddenly the subject of so many mean comments about ruining the mood for everyone? Why couldn’t he just get up from the barstool and have a good time? It was their last evening on Coruscant, and Force knew when they would return. If they would return.

Instead of talking, joking around, or dancing, Rex barely even sipped his drink. He stirred the liquid inside its glass — a half-empty glass of Corellian whiskey.

“Alright Rex, there’s obviously something on your mind,” Fives interrupted his momentum of self-pity for the fifth time that evening. Rex didn’t even bother to roll his eyes or deny it at this point. Echo took a seat next to him on the other side, while Kix stood right behind him, encircling him. The only way he could escape them was by jumping over the bar. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“You’ve barely even touched your drink,” Echo chimed in.

Kix reached further, drawing a conclusion. “Which means it’s not something depressing since you would drown yourself in alcohol, but it’s not something exciting either because… you’d celebrate. You’re not angry either, because you wouldn’t have come with us here if you were. You’re confused.”

Rex grunted. “Actually, I might start leaning towards angry soon enough.”

“Come on,” Fives said. “You either join the party or spill it out. And we’ll be able to tell if you’re faking it.”

Kix attempted a less aggressive approach. “We’re all brothers, Rex. We can tell each other anything. Good or bad, we’ll always have your back.”

Rex looked between all three of them, and then at his drink. He downed it before they could say anything more and then sighed loudly. They were right. There was no point in hiding it. Though it was a stupid thing to stress on, perhaps they’d be able to provide a fresh perspective.

“Remember that chrono? The one I told you the locals of that planet gifted me?”

They nodded in unison.

“Well, it wasn’t a gift from the locals. It was from…” he trailed off. Your name got caught in his throat. He felt as if he was about to expose you for acting inappropriately.

“The Admiral!” Fives exclaimed, punching the bar top. “I knew it!”

Rex shushed him, while Echo rolled his eyes.

“So why are you so stressed about it? I’d be honoured!” he continued, now in a lower voice.

“I… I thought it was an Affection Day gift. She made it clear it wasn’t. To cite, she said it ‘was just a sympathetic gesture for a friend’. And that she hadn’t even realized the date matched.”

Fives’ face contorted into a grimace which only served to embarrass him further. “Ouch. Well, at least you made a friend.”

Rex shot him a glare, to which Fives responded by suddenly becoming fascinated with his glass.

“I mean, he’s right. In a way,” Echo said. “But I reckon it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“What is?” Rex asked.

Echo cleared his throat. “The date. I personally don’t believe the Admiral wasn’t aware of the date. And knowing that, why not choose another day for gifting it to avoid confusion? I guess it was on purpose, but since — you know — court-martials exist, the only solution was to brush it off as a friendly gesture.”

Rex wasn’t buying any of it; he had seen the surprise on your face when he had mentioned the date. Kix and Fives, however, were suddenly very intrigued by it.

“He’s right,” Fives said. “I mean, I’ve never seen a higher-up’s face light up that much when talking to some subordinate. Unless they’re delivering some fantastic news,” he added. Rex couldn’t believe they had all simply jumped to that conclusion in such a hurry.

“It’s called being nice. And very… expressive,” he said, dismissing the notion. “I think.”

“Well,” Kix concluded, after exchanging a malicious glance with Fives and Echo. “There’s only one way to find out, right?”

***

You flinched when you first heard the notification that someone was at your door. Not that you were particularly flimsy about visitors, but you were about to sit down and enjoy your own pasta by yourself, and it was rather late. It could mean there was an emergency. You were used to people announcing their visits.

So you brushed off your clothes and rushed to the door, only stopping once in front of the mirror for less than two seconds to make sure your hair looked decent and that you didn’t have any food on your face.

When the door slid to the side, you gaped at what you instantly recognized as Rex’s back. He was already turning to leave, but he heard the door and turned to face you. Flustered, he offered you a weak smile.

You frowned, tilted your head a little and asked, “Did something happen?”

You could see the vigor leaving his body for a second, but he then proceeded to shake his head. “No, Admiral. Not really. I just…”

Eyebrows raised, you wordlessly prompted him to go on. He shook his head again, this time with more vivaciousness.

“Nevermind. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you at this hour. I don’t know why I got the idea that—”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” you blurted out, interrupting him. His features relaxed, but yours tensed up. What were you thinking? He was obviously there because something had happened that he believed you should know about. Perhaps he had heard unpleasant rumours at 79’s.

He hesitated, but you couldn’t even process an excuse to take back your words or undo the awkwardness. But then, he straightened himself and finally answered, “I’d be honored. Do you have any place in mind?”

You smiled faintly. “I meant here, now. I made some pasta.”

***

Rex blinked a few times, dumbfounded by the invitation. It had taken his brothers nearly one hour of convincing to get him to visit you. And he had given in — even with nothing to bring you but his words. Words that he had lost the moment he rung your doorbell, which was the reason he had swiftly decided it was time to leave before you opened the door.

Now, he stood there in full armour, while you were without your uniform — dressed instead in a long, dark, silk robe to contrast with his white duraplast, your hair a wild mess compared to when you were on duty, and your face all natural. And in his eyes, you had never looked more beautiful. Or terrifying.

And you had just invited him in for some homemade pasta.

***

Once inside, you had insisted on him taking off his armour, and he had happily obliged. You figured he would not be comfortable around you in just his blacks, so you offered him a pair of pants he could change in to be more at ease. He walked in while you were arranging the table for two (which hadn’t even been arranged for one — you had been planning to eat while indulging in some holodrama on the sofa).

You moved slowly, but your heart rate could have betrayed you at any moment. Even though he stood still by the doorway, you knew he was looking at you. You felt his eyes follow your movements, yet you were aware that he was most likely just waiting for you to invite him to take a seat. However, you couldn’t focus on anything else but making sure everything was perfect. That you grabbed everything with precision and just the right amount of force. You didn’t want to look clumsy.

Why did you care so much how you looked setting the damn table?

Eventually, you took a step back from the table and gestured towards a seat.

“Are you sure I can’t help with something first?” he asked.

You smiled. “You’re my guest. Make yourself comfortable.”

He hesitatingly drew a chair and sat down, and as you turned around to get the food, you felt his eyes on you again. You feared you would suddenly need a crash course on how to walk. Before sitting down to eat, you pulled out the finest red wine you could find in your cabinet and poured two glasses of it.

The awkwardness lingered on through the first couple of bites. While part of you felt sad that this must have been the first time someone invited him in for a home-cooked meal, there was also nervousness in the air. It was the first time — so it had to be perfect. You had to make it memorable. And you hadn’t exactly prepared the food with guests in mind.

“If you’d like more salt or anything…” you began, gesturing with your fork towards his plate.

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, and then returned to reality. “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s delicious, actually,” he added the last part as an after-thought, glancing away from you and back into his plate. You realised then that the silence wasn’t caused by him feeling any certain way. He was just too distracted enjoying the food.

You took another bite and decided to pull the band-aid. “So why did you come all this way?” You noticed him pause for a moment. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He took a bite to avoid answering too early. He then took his sweet time chewing it. “It was stupid. I wanted to clarify something, but it was already clearing up as I got here. I had some drinks at 79’s and…”

“And…?”

“What you said about the gift. I kept turning it over in my head.”

Your appetite faltered — not that it managed to grow too much since he had gotten there. Not for the food, at least. But you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head. “What about it?”

“About it being a nice gesture… from a friend to another friend.”

“Well, I assumed it would be a nice gesture,” you explained, playing stupid and purposefully ignoring the last part.

He sighed. “It was, that’s not what I wanted to clarify. It’s…”

You watched him draw in a deep breath, and you realized he wouldn’t continue the explanation. Your shoulders dropping, you let go of the fork and placed both your elbows on the table. “It’s about us being friends. I know.”

Another long moment of silence, where your eyes only met for a split second before you looked away.

“I know it’s not professional. I know I shouldn’t be giving you gifts or inviting you into my apartment to have dinner. If you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me. And I will stop. No hard feelings.”

Lies. You’d omitted that you didn’t really care what you should or should not be doing when it came to him.

“I’m not. In fact, I feel the most comfortable when I am around you, Admiral.”

“Then I see no way our friendship could conflict with our duties. Do you?”

You’d expected a solid ‘no’, or at least a vigorous shake of his head. Instead, he hesitated. Your eyebrows twitched.

“It does, in a way,” he half-heartedly admitted. You weren’t sure you liked where this was going. But he must have noticed your body tensing up, as he quickly added, “Although not in what I would consider a bad way.”

“How so, then?”

“Some days, when I read news of the war on other fronts, the first thing on my mind isn’t ‘How would I have handled this?’, or ‘What can I learn from this?’. The first thing on my mind is you, and how I can’t wait to discuss it with you.” He’d glance around as he spoke, switching from looking at you, to his plate of food, sometimes at yours or at the decor in your kitchen. “There are moments when I am in the middle of the firing zone, and I have to make the decision on whether I should ask for air support. And I find myself secretly wishing you are the one commanding those ships that drop into the atmosphere. Because it means I get to thank you later.”

Your grip tightened around the glass of wine as you brought it to your face and pressed your cheek against it. It was a useless attempt to keep you from blushing, but the coldness grounded you.

“I understand,” you muttered after a few moments of silence. He looked up at you, but you had to avoid it. “When I come up with strategies, I never consider them any good until I pass them through you. I always pay extra attention to what the 501st is up to in briefings. Kriff, my mother got me a chrono and all I could think of was how I was going to gift it to you instead.”

Had you accidentally slipped truth serum into the pasta? What was happening?

You both chuckled nervously at your last confession.

“I have never had the opportunity to call someone a close friend,” you continued, trying to figure out ways to drive the awkwardness away from the conversation. “But I suppose this is what it feels like. I’d rather know I have a friend in you than to be permanently struggling to come up with ways to win the war by myself.”

“Of course you have a friend in me. You will always have.”

While he delivered the line with a smile on his face that you mirrored, a wave of sadness engulfed you. You continued eating, stopping now and then to either comment on rumours and news from the battlefield or on how coincidental it was that both of you had only one day of leave left. Knowing that, you felt as if the Galaxy was prodding you to do something about the craving of your heart, but your mind was quick to quiet that plan. He would have said it by now, wouldn’t he? You had given him all the signs — told him how your thoughts always seemed to lead to him. He would have done something about it, had he thought the same of you.

***

Rex wasn’t sure he could hold the food down for much longer. It wasn’t anything physical — and the taste had been exceptional — but he felt as though there was an ever-growing hole in his stomach that threatened to kick everything else out.

What was he doing? He had come all this way, encouraged by his brothers, to let you know how he felt about you. It was the right thing to do. From there, you would have the power to decide whether you should never speak again, or…

Or what?

What options did he really have, but sit awake at night and think of all the what-ifs? You were an Admiral in the Republic’s Navy, and he was a clone commander. Bred for war. Not for figurative earthquakes in his stomach.

Then you’d said it again, that wretched word. Friend. Close friend — the culmination of what was possible and realistic between the two of you. It was, at its core, bittersweet. He was honoured you considered him a close friend, but ashamed that he wanted more. He was sitting in your home, eating your food, drinking your wine, and he still wasn’t satisfied.

***

It wasn’t hard to revert to a normal dinner conversation after clarifying the matter, but a remnant of doubt still nagged you. Whether he felt the same, Rex didn’t show it.

As you both finished your food, the uncomfortable atmosphere of having left things unsaid grew exponentially. He still had some wine left in his glass, yet you hadn’t touched yours, besides a courteous sip. You didn’t trust yourself that much. Even sober, you could barely hold your feelings in.

The time to clean up the table eventually came, and he had insisted that he could at least bring his own plate to the sink. You let him, but instructed him to leave the glass on the countertop next to it.

Instead of pouring the untouched wine into the sink, you stopped behind him and downed it. He said nothing about it, but looked at you curiously.

“I never said it back,” you commented while placing your empty glass of wine next to his, avoiding his gaze. The gesture brought the two of you even closer.

“Said what back?”

“You told me I would always have a friend in you. I never said you would, too.” You looked up at him and met his confused grimace with a dead-serious gaze. “You have more than a friend in me.”

His grimace faltered, and his gaze matched yours. You’d said it, and this was it. The decision was his. You had both experienced enough awkward moments, one more could hardly make a difference.

But there was nothing awkward about it anymore. Your gaze moved between his lips and his eyes. His did the same. Instead of constantly replaying everything you had ever said to him, your mind was now completely blank, but at peace. You were living every second of that moment. Every heartbeat, every inhale, and every exhale. All you could see was him — his beautiful eyes and his lips that he parted.

You didn’t notice him raising his hand, but you felt it on the back of your neck. His thumb brushed against your ear, but then he broke eye contact for a couple of moments to arrange a strand of hair behind it. You released the breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in, and he met your eyes again.

He smiled down at you — sadly, in a way, but in his eyes a glint of hope that you were too familiar with. “Then you can have anything you want in me.”

You brought both your hands to his face, tracing your thumbs along his chin. You kept going until your hands were close to the back of his head, and you pulled him in. He closed his eyes, but you felt his grip on you become weaker. You both had the same voices in your heads, trying to convince you that your actions were wrong. But you wouldn’t let those voices win him over. Your own, you could handle. You had ignored them for so long; they had no effect on you.

As your lips crashed against his, you closed your eyes in reaction to the shivers running down your spine. He hummed softly, and something inside you went wild at the sound. You dug your nails into the back of his head and parted your lips to deepen the kiss.

First, you tasted the wine that lingered on his lips. And then, as he gave in and crashed against your lips, you tasted him. His passion, his fervor, and all the words he had wished to tell you until that moment. All the missed opportunities and all the doubts that now held no meaning anymore. No unspoken words or repressed cravings could bring you down from the high you were experiencing as he let go of his hesitation and leaned into you.

His grip on you grew tighter and his humming against your lips more frequent. You were finally his, fully his, body and soul alike.

When he pulled away, he did so as slowly as possible, as if afraid he would wake up from a dream. You kept your eyes closed until you felt him press his forehead against yours.

Your hands that had, until that point, caressed his skin with desperation — proof of your own patience having been torn to shreds — fell limply at your sides. He ran his fingers through your hair, and you watched him revel in the moment.

Finally, he opened his eyes and whatever glimpse of sadness in them was gone. But in a split second, you could tell there was something on his mind.

“Before you tell me we shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, “let’s just do it one more time.”

He didn’t reply, but he moved his hand from the back of your neck to your front, running his thumb across your collarbone, and then back up to cup your cheek.

You had to stand on your toes to reach him and kiss him again. You felt electrified once again, but it lasted for a shorter while this time — he wasn’t reacting to it. Pulling away, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you. There was a war raging inside him. But you weren’t so sure of your actions anymore, either. You didn’t want your selfishness to break him. It took every ounce of self-control left in you not to beg him to ignore all rules for one night. Your night.

He cupped your other cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to his.

“One more time,” he repeated, his voice somehow hoarse and soft at the same time. His lips caught yours in a hard kiss. Not as gentle and timid as he had been until then — he had won the battle against those voices. Your hands reached for the seams of his shirt and just as you slipped your fingers underneath them, before you could register what his skin felt like, an alarm pulled you out of it.

Both physically and mentally.

You retracted your hands, and he took a step back, breaking the kiss. You could hear your heart starting to crack.

The alarm was coming from the living room, where he had left his change of clothes. And his comlink.

He looked between you and the direction where it was coming from, as if waiting for your approval to leave. The corner of your mouth twitched into a smile and you gestured with your head in the direction of the living room. As he took the call, you picked a spot on the floor to stare at blankly. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but you figured out easily what it was about.

A few moments and he appeared at the threshold, fully clad in his armor, his helmet under his arm and a conflicted expression on his face.

“The 501st is being dispatched to Ryloth for an emergency rescue mission,” he explained, and you struggled to offer him a comforting smile. His voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was the tone of a clone commander speaking to his superior.

You made your way towards him and reached out to arrange the collar of his blacks. He had readied himself in such a hurry he hadn’t noticed it getting awkwardly stuck beneath his armor-plate. “Make sure you get some rest on the way there.”

Once you fixed him, you looked up and had to swallow your frustration. He was just as saddened by it as you were, judging by the look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but you shook your head.

“You’ll be if you don’t come back in one piece. So make sure you’re well-rested,” you said, ignoring the voice in your head that was raging at whoever needed saving. You started dragging yourself towards the front door of your apartment to walk him out, and he followed.

“I don’t know when I’ll come back. I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again.”

Before pressing the button to open the door, you turned around and pursed your lips. “I understand. But it seems we have kept bumping into each other during this entire war. Perhaps it will stay that way. Perhaps this is where we are meant to be,” you said. “Two entities crossing each other’s paths until it becomes one.”

Your words seemed to bring some comfort to him, at least enough to get him to move again. But before he exited, just as he had walked by you, he stopped once again to look at you, in case it was the last chance he would get. You did the same.

“One more time,” you muttered as you took a wide step towards him. He extended his free arm to wrap it around your waist while yours curled around his neck. And your lips met once again, with the same passion they had the first time.

You didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want it to end. You wanted him to hold you for one minute longer, and then have that minute bleed into an hour, a night, a lifetime. But you had both agreed on it, less than an hour earlier. It wouldn’t affect your duties. Although it already did.

You both ended the kiss with a smile on your faces. He would find his way back to you. This couldn’t be the end of it.

That night, you found the spare clothes you had given him neatly arranged on the sofa. You finished the bottle of wine by yourself and fell asleep dressed in his scent. You would go back to your ship the next day — hoping, as always, that your next campaign would somehow involve the 501st. But knowing now that he shared the same hope as you.

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex reader insert #commander rex x reader

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hotchnisslovechild · 3 years

Text

Yin and Yang

When things go wrong while chasing after two unsubs, Emily gets hurt, and Hotch helps ease her pain.

inspired by “sirens” by thegraytigress rating: M for language, adult themes/situations, and canon-typical violence. the violent content could potentially be triggering to some, so read at your own discretion. words: 9140 also posted on ao3

A loud crack echoed through her head as she turned the corner of the alleyway, pain shooting up her jaw as she stumbled to the ground. Hard boots kicked at her head and her sides, causing her lungs to spasm within her and stealing her breath. She prepared herself for the worst. Prepared herself for being left there to bleed out, silently suffering the pain of her injuries alone in that alleyway. That was until he rounded the corner, catching her eye and igniting a small but substantial spark of hope within her.

Never had Emily seen Hotch fight the way he did against these men. He’s not one for hand-to-hand combat, usually letting his Glock do the work for him in taking down most unsubs. But this felt personal. A matter that could be and needed to be dealt with without firing his gun. One of his own was being mercilessly beaten to the ground by two men twice her size.

He preaches about objectivity on the job. He always has. Not letting things get personal. Simply doing what needs to be done to carry out their job. But things changed with Emily. Her sense of humanity rubbed off on him, balancing out his principle of remaining objective. The reverse happened in the same way. Hotch taught her to be objective despite her fight to hold onto her sense of humanity and compassion. They keep each other balanced. She is the yin to his yang. Their opposing forces of objectivity and humanity coming together in wholeness. Interconnected. Interdependent. Complete.

The humanity in him overrode his objectivity at that moment. As Emily lie there on the cold, hard ground, dizzy and bleeding out, she looked up to see her boss take down her attackers with his bare hands. With a vigor and intensity that was unfamiliar to her. She closed her eyes then, the pain shooting from her torso to her jaw almost too much to bear.

When she opened her eyes again, the alleyway was quiet. The worn-out grunts, loud cracks of punches, and rumbling sounds of struggle had disappeared, and the only sound to be heard was Hotch’s rugged breathing. He stood there for a long moment, doubled over cradling his hands in his chest, trying to catch his breath and regain some sense of composure. The last time he lost himself like this was with Foyet. He relentlessly beat his worst enemy to death with his bare hands to protect his son, the one person in his life he loved above everyone else. Putting every ounce of his weight into each blow his fist made to Foyet’s face, rendering him almost unrecognizable.

The adrenaline that coursed through him at the sight of Emily being attacked by these men gave Hotch a near superhuman strength as he fought them off. He used every last bit of his power to protect his subordinate lying helplessly on the ground. And for a man not used to physical confrontation, Hotch did a number on Emily’s attackers.

That adrenaline wore off as he stood above the two unsubs he and Emily were chasing. Both men looked dead, unconscious on the ground covered in blood with broken noses and ribs. For a brief moment, Hotch questioned what it meant that he was willing to go to such an extreme to protect Emily. To inflict more pain on her perpetrators than necessary. But the thought left as quickly as it came, and he finally turned his attention to his subordinate lying motionless in the darkness of the alleyway.

Using whatever strength he still had, he scooped her up bridal style and carried to back to their SUV. His legs ached as he made his way along the streets of the small town. He needed to get her to the hospital, to get her checked out as quickly as possible. If the circumstances were different, he would have called an ambulance. But in this old town, it’s faster if he just takes her himself.

Emily’s eyes drifted shut again once she was in Hotch’s arms. She grasped the fabric of his shirt like her life depended on it. She could feel the ache of his arm muscles underneath her. They twitched every few seconds under the weight of her. She felt safe in his arms. Comfortable despite the sharp pains in her face and stomach. The aches subsided as sleep slowly took over her as she buried her head in Hotch’s neck.

She awoke less than an hour later, blinded by the harsh light over her. When she slowly opened her eyes again, trying to adjust to the bright lights, she looked down at herself. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to work that day, only now they were ripped in several places and covered in her own blood. She looked around the room with squinted eyes, noting it as cramped but clean. Panic started to rise within her as she questioned where she was and where Hotch was. She could feel her entire body ache as she moved her neck to look further around the room. Wincing at the pain, she moved back to her original position. She shut her eyes trying to will the pain away. That’s when she heard the faint sound of footsteps in the room and moved her head up to look at who entered the room. Once again, she flinched at the pain caused by her sudden movements.

“Prentiss, don’t try to move. Please.”

She sees him standing in the doorway in his battered up and bloody shirt, holding a cup of water. She stared at him for a long moment, completely enraptured by him. The way his white dress shirt fit tightly against his shoulders with the sleeves rolled up enough to see the veins of his forearms. Backlit from the even harsher light outside of the door, she couldn’t see his facial features very clearly, but she forced back a smile at his hair flopping over his forehead.

As he stepped out of the light towards her, the beautiful image of him vanished before her eyes. She could make out the features of his face, dark and weary but clean. He must have had time to wash the blood off of his face. He looked sad. Sad like he did just months ago after everything with Foyet. Blaming himself for the loss of so many innocent lives. Being separated from his ex-wife and son. Coping with the death of his ex-wife. She hated seeing him look so miserable—

“How are you feeling?” he said from beside her, interrupting her thoughts.

“Like I just got the shit kicked out of me,” she says matter-of-factly. His face sunk further, looking even more miserable and tired than before. “Am I in the hospital?” she asked weakly.

“Yes, I drove you here because an ambulance would have taken too long,” he said as he set the glass of water down on the table beside her. “The doctor should be here in a minute.”

“Where is everyone else?”

“I called them once we got to the SUV and told them where the unsubs were. They took care of everything and should be headed back to the hotel by now.”

She shifted higher on the bed so she could take a much-needed sip of water. As her mind became less and less foggy, her head throbbed more and more, and the bed became increasingly uncomfortable.

Hotch watched her carefully as she took a sip of water from the cup he brought her. Her arms were clearly weak, shaking as they brought the cup to her lips. He wanted so badly to reach out and hold the cup for her, to help her in any way he could. But he knew she would hate that. She doesn’t like to be coddled. Much like him, she doesn’t want to be dependent on someone else or feel like she’s a burden. That’s just one of the many things he saw in her that he felt mirrored himself.

When the doctor strode through the door, Hotch took the cup from Emily’s hands, setting it back down on the bedside table. Emily frowned as she lay back against the bed, wanting at least one more sip. She almost felt addicted to the way the water gave her some relief.

The doctor took a look at her, clearly in a rush for some reason or another. She asked Emily a series of questions, palpated her abdomen, and examined some of the cuts on her face and stomach. It took everything in Emily to remain calm as the doctor prodded at her stomach with her cold hands. She never did like hospitals. The atmosphere of pain, fear, and helplessness. The harsh smells and sounds. It made her feel cold and closed in. She wanted nothing more than a reassuring look from her boss, telling her it’ll all be okay. But Hotch, ever the gentleman, faced the other direction when the doctor lifted Emily’s shirt to examine her chest and stomach.

The doctor quickly concluded, telling them that Emily has a concussion and some bruised ribs. No bones were broken and none of the cuts on her needed stitches. She left the room in a hurry, and a nurse came in with some pain medication and a plastic bag with ointment, wipes, and bandages to treat and soothe Emily’s gashes and scrapes. The nurse also brought in a wheelchair to help Hotch take Emily back to the SUV.

“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Emily said trying to shoo the nurse out of the room.

“We will take the wheelchair. Thank you,” Hotch said giving the nurse an apologetic look. She passed him the wheelchair and left as fast as she could, clearly not wanting to have anything to do with these two adults griping at one another over a wheelchair.

“Hotch, I don’t—”

“Please, Prentiss, just let me help you into the wheelchair,” he said slowly and tiredly. She was too worn out to put up much of a fight. She also didn’t want to put Hotch out more than she already had by trying to argue with him.

He slid his arms underneath her legs and back and lifted her into the wheelchair. She reveled in the feeling of his toned and solid arms around her, supportive and protective. Emily had no idea how he still had enough strength in his arms to lift her up again. She was doing nothing to help him either, practically dead weight in his arms. She figured his arms would be dead tired after fighting off two grown men and then carrying her sleeping body to the SUV and into the hospital. He was always surprising her really. She was constantly in awe of his resilience and toughness. Wearing suits to work each day did nothing but hide the true robustness of his body and what it was capable of. She was grateful any time she got to see him in something other than a perfectly tailored suit. Nothing compared to the private excitement she felt seeing his bare forearms and biceps on days he wore polos to work in the field. Often finding herself staring for much longer than deemed appropriate, especially in a workplace setting, wondering what it felt like to be held in those arms. She never thought that when she would finally be held by him, it would be like this. Both of them feeling weak and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to just fall asleep.

Emily didn’t say a word as he wheeled her out of the hospital to the SUV. Too drained to even ask to give a penny for her thoughts, he let the comfortable silence remain amongst them all the way back to the hotel. Because it was nearing 2 A.M, the rest of the team was already asleep in their rooms by the time Emily and Hotch got back.

Hotch took her by surprise once again when he followed her to her hotel room. A strange feeling of anxiety rose within her, as she started to feel like an annoyance. She doesn’t like asking for help, much less needing help. But Hotch was being so patient, so attentive. While he looked tired, he gave no signs that would suggest him feeling like Emily was in any way a burden. So really, her anxiety was unnecessary. And she knows Hotch. She knows he takes care of people fiercely and persistently no matter what. He feels responsible for people, especially his teammates. Even so, Emily still felt guilty making him feel like he has to take care of her.

“You didn’t have to walk me in here, you know.”

“I know,” he said casually as he set her medication and the plastic bag down on the bedside table.

Emily was instantly reminded of this same exchange that happened several months ago in Hotch’s apartment.

“You didn’t have to walk me up here, you know.”

“I know.”

Only that time, the roles were reversed. It was Emily taking care of Hotch. Going out of her way to make sure he wasn’t alone when he was hurting. She told him he wasn’t alone, that he had her. Of course not outright. Hotch and Emily had developed a unique way of communicating with one another. A sort of secret language where they can communicate so much with so few words. Or have a conversation within another conversation, like they had that day in his apartment. Emily didn’t have to tell hotch she was helping him through one of the darkest, saddest, most traumatic times in his life. Instead, she was a gentle voice of support. A presence of healing for him. She didn’t need to explicitly tell him she’s there for him and will never leave his side because he already knew.

Within the walls of that small, dilapidated hotel room, the tables had been turned. Now, it was Hotch comforting Emily willingly and fearlessly when she needed it most. He’s subtle, not overbearing. Offing himself as a rock for her to help her ground herself and get better.

But Emily was hesitant to accept this offer. Because it meant letting someone in, breaking down her walls, being vulnerable, needing help. Hotch had been through enough trauma that year. She didn’t want to add to that. Because she knows he would take on a part of her trauma and pain as his. She couldn’t live with herself if she was ever part of the reason he was unhappy.

“Seriously, Hotch, I don’t want to put you out more than I already have tonight. Go to your room and sleep. You’re just as beaten up as I am,” she tried, wincing as she sat on the bed. Her legs were too wobbly for her to keep standing. It hit her then that Hotch never asked to get checked out by a doctor at the hospital despite having been in a brawl with two large men. It made her stomach lurch with guilt thinking that Hotch was ignoring his own injuries just so he could help her with hers.

“I’m fine,” He wasn’t. But that didn’t matter, not right now. “I’ll get you some water so you can take your pain meds,” he continued, walking towards her bathroom.

Done trying to override his stubbornness with her own, she sighed in submission. Flinching as she did so, a sharp pain shooting through her ribs to her chest. She had no clue how she’d made it so long without taking some of that pain medication. The doctors and nurses were in such a hurry to get the two of them out of there that they didn’t even administer her any medication. She felt a soreness in her chest every time she breathed, forcing her to only take shallow breaths.

Hotch returned with a full cup of water, handing it to Emily then retrieving two pills of her prescribed pain meds.

“Tilt your head ba—”

“I can take my own pills,” she snapped, snatching the two pills from the palm of his large hand. After quickly swallowing the two white pills, she was hit with a pang of guilt yet again. This time for snapping at Hotch. He didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to help.

“Hotch, I’m sorry I snapped I know you’re just trying to—”

“It’s fine,” he stopped her. The look on his face had softened. His eyes were patient, composed. “Really. Let’s get you cleaned up and take care of some of these gashes,” he continued, gesturing towards her face.

Emily hated herself for snapping at him. Suddenly she felt like more a burden than she did before. More like a pain in Hotch’s ass at this point. What was she doing bitching and moaning at him? He was being everything she needed at that moment, offering to be her rock, and she kept trying to shut him down. She wasn’t used to this, having someone attend to her so persistently and remain patient with her when she starts being difficult. She’s used to people leaving. Abandoning her when she becomes too much to handle, too much for someone else to bear. She’d grown to deal with it, learned to just take care of herself, not put her trust in anyone else but herself. But Hotch stayed. And he wanted to stay.

He reached for the bag on the bedside table with everything he needed to dress the cuts all over her. He knelt before her, wiping off his hands with one of the wipes from the bag. Taking a new, clean wipe he held it over the gash on her cheek. “This is probably going to hurt,” he warned. She nodded slowly, closing her eyes to brace herself. He wiped away the dried blood on and around the wound. Her eyes started to water. Not from the pain or soreness. But because of how gentle he was. He held her chin and cleaned her swollen face like she was the most precious thing in the world, like she could break at any moment, crumble underneath his fingers.

He watched as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back tears. The thought of causing her pain made his heart ache inside his chest. He wanted nothing more than to soothe her pain, help her heal. He grabbed the tube of antiseptic and squeezed some onto the tip of his finger. “This is going to sting,” he said firmly, trying to hide how much it hurt him seeing her in pain and discomfort. She didn’t say anything, just squeezed her eyes shut a little tighter than before. He slowly dabbed a bit of the clear ointment on her cheek.

“Ow! Fuck,” Emily cried, pulling away from him.

“I need you to hold still—”

“Just forget it, Hotch. I don’t even need it,” she tried, still facing away from him. The gash on her cheekbone began to throb and sting. It felt like fire spreading across the entire left side of her face. She started to feel ridiculous. She’s suffered through pain more intolerable and agonizing than this. “You can just go. I can do this on my own.” She didn’t really want him to leave, to abandon her like everyone else always did. She found comfort in his presence, under his care.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, his tone still soft and reassuring despite his deep, baritone voice. If he was feeling annoyed or impatient, he certainly didn’t show it. “Now, please just try to hold still. I know it hurts.”

Pain pulsated through Emily’s chest as she took a deep breath trying to calm herself. She hated losing her temper, especially with Hotch, especially when he was trying to help her. This was now the third time she’s lost her cool at him tonight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning her head to face him again. She blinked away her tears, trying to regroup. Only for the urge to cry to come rushing back when Hotch continued to smear the antiseptic over her wound, once again feeling overwhelmed by the tenderness with which he touched her face. She stared at him, mesmerized by his focus. He caught her staring, meeting her eyes as he pulled his hand away from her face. Neither of them looked away for what felt like forever. The intimacy of it all made Emily’s heart race, even though they found themselves in this situation often, completely absorbed in mutual eye contact, unable to look away, allowing themselves to feel the uncomfortable excitement and unease turn into a sense of peace and closeness.

The moment ended as Hotch turned away, feeling inexplicably shy under her intense gaze. He quickly busied himself with the gauze and tape to dress her wound. With the same attentiveness and focus as before, he held the gauze against her cheek and taped it in place.

Everything just became too much. Emily’s eyes quickly welled up with tears, a rush of emotions overwhelming her. She was sad, angry, hurting in every sense of the word.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern and worry apparent in his voice. “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head as she broke down into a violent sob. Fear and panic immediately displayed across Hotch’s face. He wasn’t hurting her, and she didn’t want him to think he was. But it was all too much. Pain burned and ripped through her whole body. She felt so weak, so frail. The pain medication doing nothing to relieve her of the torment of aches that spread from her face down to her legs. She saw him get up from his position on the floor, moving to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. The feeling of his hand starting to rub her back only caused her flood gates to open further, her sobs growing even more violent. Even sitting up straight became too much, took a level of energy and effort she could not give. So she leaned into him, buried her swollen face into his shoulder. He automatically brought one of his hands to her head and kept the other on her back, holding her against him, careful with his touch as if he were handling a fragile baby bird.

Sobbed continued to rack through her whole body. She was shaking, trembling, gasping for air against Hotch’s shoulder. “Shhh,” he whispered, so quiet that she could barely hear it. His hands moved in slow, gentle circles across her back. “It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I got you. I’m right here,” he soothed with a slight hitch, trying to hold back tears of his own. She doesn’t say anything, just cries and cries, not knowing if she will ever be able to stop. With each sob, Hotch’s heart broke, cracking into pieces. He rarely saw her break down like this. She was an expert at compartmentalizing her emotions, filing them away to be dealt with at a later time, alone. He could see how their job affected her. The way madness pervaded her mind, how turmoil infiltrated her heart. Yet, there was a stillness in her soul. A sense of hope and courage that radiated from her and could be felt by everyone in her wake. She put on a brave face, a strong and confident exterior. Her world could be falling apart at the seams and even those closest to her would hardly suspect anything was wrong.

The fear and panic in Hotch’s chest only grew as she sobbed into him. “Everything hurts, Hotch,” she said, almost incoherently.

He was taken back to Colorado. The sounds of Emily getting kicked and thrown around by Benjamin Cyrus replaying in this head. Images of a broken and battered Emily emerging from the compound. He remembered the bruising on the palm of his hands left from digging his fingers into them as he heard Emily get thrown against a wall, knowing he could do nothing to help her or save her without jeopardizing the lives of everyone inside the compound. To him, she was worth the risk. The only thing that kept him from risking everything to save her was her reassuring “I can take it.” He remembered the guilt he felt listening to Emily take each blow. If he hadn’t sent them undercover, she wouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. If he had been more careful about restricting media coverage of the hostage situation, her cover wouldn’t have been compromised. He blamed himself for everything that happened to Emily that day, and now, with her crying in his arms, history repeats itself. He felt responsible for her getting hurt again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Hotch whispered into her hair. The comfort of his words and his touch made her breathing slow, her sobs grow quieter, her hands stop shaking. “This is all my fault,” he breathed. Her heart split in two the moment those words fell from his lips. Her sobs came to a halt as she slowly pulled away from him, noticing the huge wet spot on the shoulder of his shirt from her tears.

She couldn’t let him blame himself for this. He was the one who saved her for God’s sake. He had no reason to feel guilty. “It’s not your fault, Hotch,” she tried, searching his face and only finding guilt and shame across his features.

“If I hadn’t got caught up in the crowds on the side of the street I would have gotten to that alley first. It should’ve been me.”

“That wasn’t in your control, Hotch. This is no one’s fault but the men who attacked me,” she said, her voice quiet and weak.

“Even if I had just gotten to the alley sooner—”

“Hotch,” she interrupted, starting to get a little agitated, “it really doesn’t matter. There was nothing you could have done. You can’t pin this on yourself.”

He locks eyes with her. “But it does matter” he hesitates, “because you got hurt.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She only looked down at her hands in her lap. Everything started to hurt all over again. Her head and heart ached from having to talk him down. She missed his touch, his warmth as he held her close to him. Her ribs and stomach still hurt with each breath she took. She was physically and emotionally drained. She just wanted to sleep the pain away.

It startled her when he suddenly stood up from the bed, causing it to creak loudly in the quiet room. She flinched at the sound, her concussion making her sensitive.

“Lay down,” he instructed gently. She complied willingly, trying to make up for being so damn difficult the past hour, hating that he felt guilty for her getting hurt, also wanting to just lay down finally. As she moved to lay down on the bed, though, she wavered, suddenly feeling incredibly dizzy. The whole room spun and moved around her. “Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, gently holding her head between his hands to steady her. “Are you okay? Are you feeling dizzy?” he asked worriedly. She couldn’t answer, the blows she took to her head catching up to her. The bed felt like it was moving underneath her. She closed her eyes in an attempt to will away the vertigo. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Hotch said in the softest tone Emily had ever heard from a man. “Emily, please look at me.”

Emily.

Her eyes snapped open. That sure got her attention. And almost made her even more lightheaded. There was something so… intimate about Hotch calling her by her first name. Especially in this position with Hotch holding her face less than a foot away from his own, searching for her eyes, trying to make eye contact. He always called her Prentiss, always had. Even though he’s called her Emily on a few occasions, it still sounded a bit foreign to her coming from him. She’d never quite understood why he religiously called her by her last name. Her guess was that he was trying to distance himself from her. Didn’t want to get too close, too involved. Needed to set boundaries.

At least, that’s what she hoped the reason was.

Because that would mean he felt something between them the way she did. After Foyet, things changed between them. They spent more time together, blurred the line between being coworkers and being friends. She spent time at his apartment, helping him with household chores he couldn’t do without stretching the stitches in his chest and stomach. She took him to and from work much more than could be deemed necessary. They shared drinks after hours in his office, sometimes with the company of Dave as well. They were no longer just coworkers, speaking to one another only at work and about work. They grew into something more, and Emily wondered if Hotch felt that way about them too. She hoped he felt that way, hoped it explained why he still only called her Prentiss.

“Emily,” he repeated, eyes finally meeting hers. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” she manages, “I just got a little dizzy there for a sec.”

“Okay. Are you able to lie down now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” God, she felt so pathetic.

“Just take it slow, okay? Take your time,” he said moving his hand to the back of her head to guide it down slowly onto the pillow. If it could even be called a pillow. It was hard and lumpy, did nothing to make Emily feel comfortable in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar town. He watched as she tried to reposition her head on the pillow, wincing as she did so. “Feel better?” he asked.

She nodded, taking a shaky and painful deep breath. After laying down for a few seconds, the throbbing in her ribs and back faded into a weak soreness. She closed her eyes, savoring the relief she felt. She wanted to fall asleep right then and there, to take advantage of this brief moment of stillness.

Hotch observed the way her face relaxed. Her brow no longer creased; her jaw no longer clenched. She looked so peaceful lying there with her hands over her heart. He felt the corners of his lips curl up slightly. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he still needed to clean and dress some of the cuts and scrapes on her torso. His heart started to race when he thought about what that meant. He would have to undress her. His subordinate.

He would be lying if he said he never took notice of her looks before. She was a beautiful woman, radiantly so. She lit up every room she entered. It was impossible not to look at her, notice her. He would be ashamed to admit he’s caught himself looking at her in ways no boss should look at their subordinate. On days where she wore that one red tank top, he had to actively keep himself from staring at her chest, watching how it rose and fell with each breath she took. On nights off at a bar with the team, he found himself entranced by the way her hips would sway to the music, wearing a pair of tight, skinny jeans. He felt guilty looking at her like that. He doubts she would appreciate her boss checking her out. Even in the hospital room a few hours ago, he turned his back to her when the doctor lifted Emily’s shirt. He’d hate to make her feel awkward or uncomfortable. Now, he would have to be the one to lift her shirt and tend to her wounds.

He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention, not wanting to startle her and add to the stress her body was already experiencing. “Hey,” he whispered, “I’m going to need to lift your shirt okay?” She slowly opened her eyes. “I need to clean and cover up some of the cuts and scrapes you have,” he said shyly, hoping he wasn’t coming off as awkward as he felt.

She nodded slowly, slightly amused by Hotch’s clear discomfort. He was cute when he was flustered and awkward.

He didn’t waste any more time, moving to lift the hem of her shirt up towards her chest. He was caught off guard by the look her torso, cut up and scraped with black and blue bruises starting to form around her ribs. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He hadn’t seen the extent of her injuries beyond her face. He wasn’t expecting it to be as bad as it was.

She noticed him staring at her with tears in his eyes, the pain from seeing such a horrified look on his face is almost worse than her injuries. “It’s not as bad as it looks, Hotch,” she tried. She remembered saying those exact words to Reid at the compound in Colorado, her face swollen and bruised from sacrificing her life for him. No matter what she said, Reid still blamed himself for what happened to her, much like Hotch does now. She lifted her head slightly to get a look for herself, quickly seeing how much darker her bruises had become since the doctor checked them out in the hospital. No wonder breathing and the mere thought of moving hurt so badly.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, not able to tear his eyes away from the injuries across her entire torso. She lifted her hand, with whatever strength she had left, to stop him from apologizing any further. She just couldn’t bear it, couldn’t handle listening to him beat himself up for something that was not his fault.

Blinking away tears and snapping himself out of his daze, he composed himself enough to grab another wet wipe to clean her torso. “This is going to hurt,” he warned again, “Let me know if it’s too much.”

She nodded, once again closing her eyes to prepare herself for the inevitable pain that would come from any pressure applied to her stomach. He slowly wiped at the skin across her ribs. He was so unbelievably careful, but it was agonizing. A muffled groan escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Too much?” he asked. She shook her head, encouraging him to continue. She wanted to get this over with, and she was sure he did too. The sooner he got this done, the sooner she could go to sleep and forget about the pain for a while. He continued cleaning her skin and the cuts just under her bra. She bit back her moans as best she could, not wanting to alarm him. She’d done enough of that the past few hours.

“I need to lift your shirt further up. Is that okay?” he asked timidly. He’s so damn polite she thought to herself.

“Just take it off,” she said, not thinking much of it. That was, until she saw his look of confusion and uncertainly. “It’ll make it easier,” she suggested, trying to relieve him of his doubts, “and I want to change out of it anyway. It’s all torn up and bloody.” He nodded, still feeling hesitant. In any other context, this would be so wrong. Undressing his subordinate while alone in a hotel room. But he wasn’t going to deny her request. If it made her more comfortable, he would do it. He would do anything for her. Anything.

As she lifted her arms above her head, he stripped the shirt from her, leaving her in only her bra and slacks. It would be a total lie if she said she never fantasized about this moment. She frequently indulged in the thought of him, her boss, undressing her. Never did she think it would happen under these circumstances. There was nothing sexy about what happened to them, what brought them to this moment.

There was a bruise across the swell of one of her breasts and a small scrape on the other. With the same gentleness as before, he cleaned the dried blood from her chest. When he began to wipe the other side of her chest, Emily let out a hiss, the skin and tissue there particularly tender and sore to the touch.

“This is the worst part. I’m sorry in advance,” he said, referring to the ointment he would have to put on the cuts and scraped all over her torso.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As he did minutes before, he squeezed some of the clear gel onto his finger. Emily yelped the moment the cool gel made contact with her angry, swollen skin. “Here,” he said handing her the shirt he had just discarded from her moments ago, “Bite into this.” She closed her teeth around the fabric, clenching tightly as she waited for him to continue. A muffled cry coming from her mouth when he applied more of the gel to her inflamed cuts and scrapes. He worked as quickly as he could while keeping his touch soft and light. He hoped she couldn’t tell how much this was affecting him. Hearing her muffled cries, touching her broken and swollen skin, feeling her body tense under his care, it was almost unbearable.

He started bandaging up some of the deeper cuts on her torso, both of them relieved that the worst of it was over for now.

Emily’s usually not one to be shy, especially about her body, but she felt incredibly vulnerable and anxious lying there in only her bra and work pants, covered in ugly bruises and scrapes. She felt exposed, her wounds fresh, open, and throbbing, her flesh sore and tender. As much as she wanted to cover herself, the thought of moving was painful in and of itself. So she declined when he offered to help her into a new shirt from her go bag. “I really just want to sleep right now,” she said, exhausted from the pain and the pain medication making her drowsy. He nodded, taking her bloody shirt from her and putting all of the supplies back into the plastic bag they came in.

The world slowly dimmed as she nodded off to sleep, her hands returning to the position over her heart like before. The all-consuming pain from moments ago faded into nothing when sleep finally took over.

He watched her as she slept, once again transfixed by her peaceful expression. He couldn’t find it in him to sleep despite how much his body practically begged for it. He was devoted to watching over her. Like a kind of vigil, a reverent and purposeful wakefulness, making sure no more harm could be inflicted upon her.

Several months ago, the roles were reversed. Emily watched over Hotch as he slept, worried and waiting. Her face was the first thing he saw when he woke. Her presence a comforting light despite the panic that rose within him from waking up in a hospital room not remembering any of the events that brought him there. If he was being honest, there’s no other face he would have wanted to see at that moment.

When Emily woke a few hours later, she saw him, sitting in an armchair in the dark, watching her. Has he been here the whole fucking time? she thought to herself, somewhat pissed at him for not getting some rest himself. He needed it just as much as she did.

“What the hell, Hotch,” she groans into the silence of the room. “You didn’t have to stay here.”

“I wanted to. How are you feeling?”

“Still hurts to move. Or breathe,” she responded frankly. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few hours. The sun’s not even up yet.”

She sighed, her chest twitching in discomfort. Thankfully, the pain meds had yet to wear off, and the pain extending from her stomach to her head was reduced to dull aches.

She reached up to feel the bandage on her cheek, only to be reprimanded by Hotch, telling her not to touch it so it stays clean. “But it itches,” she grumbled, still feeling tired and agitated even after sleeping for a few hours. He stared at her, getting up from his seat in the armchair and walking towards her. He calmly pulled her hand away from her face and set it back onto her chest. The gesture caused her eyes to brim with tears, once again overwhelmed by the gentleness of him, of his hands. It amazed her that the same strong hands that took down evil in the world each day were the same gentle hands that touched her, cared for her.

He sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her, seeing the way her eyes got shiny with tears. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffled and tried blinking away her tears, feeling silly for crying over the gentleness of his hands. “Nothing. It’s all just,” she sniffled again, “it’s just a lot. And I’m still tired. Did you even sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“How am I not supposed to worry? You brawled with two men twice my size, carried me in your arms for like a half-mile, and you still haven’t slept.”

“Emily,” he started.

“Don’t ‘Emily’ me,” she interrupted with a little too much bitterness in her voice. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you kill yourself just to help me. It’s not worth it.”

“But you are.”

Her eyes shot open. She stared at him in disbelief. Her whole body goes numb, and she can hardly breathe. There are no words that could express how she felt then. She’s terrified, stunned, and completely speechless. It’s just not possible. He can’t feel that way. He just can’t. She’s not worth that. She could never be worth that.

Sensing her shock, he placed his hand over hers on her chest, not sure if it would do anything to help, but it felt right. She shifted up on the bed, wincing slightly as she sat against the headboard, his hand still over hers in her lap. He mindlessly ran the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Hotch, you can’t say that,” she said, shaking her head, staring at their hands in her lap. “I’m not your burden to carry.”

“You’re not a burden. Sure, you can be a piece of work sometimes, but you’re worth the work. It’s work I’m willing to do. It’s work I want to do. You still deserve to be cared for. You deserve someone who is willing to do the work to care for you. It doesn’t make you a burden,” he squeezed her hand, silently telling her to look at him, “You are not a burden,” he repeated once she looked him in the eyes, tearing falling down her cheeks. He reached up to gently wipe away a heavy tear from her cheek.

The intimacy of the whole situation made Emily’s head spin. Excitement, nausea, fear, and anticipation bubbled up inside her. Before she could stop herself, she brought her lips to his in a tentative kiss. For a moment she panics, thinking that maybe she read him completely wrong, and she just ruined their entire friendship. But when she pulled away, his head followed hers, leaning in for more, craving more of her. Their lips met again, timid and hesitant at first, but the kiss quickly grew more intense, full of passion, need, and desire.

She had wanted this for so long, wanted him for so long, but he was always off-limits. He was her boss for Christ’s sake. It was explicitly against fraternization policies to be involved like this. It was wrong on so many levels, but no matter how foolish, crazy, and reckless this was, she didn’t care, and neither did he. This hungry and desperate kiss felt like an explosion of pent-up emotions, feelings they’ve had to stifle for months, years even. This kiss set them free.

He moved his hand behind her head with his lips still on her, guiding her head back down to the useless pillow beneath her. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. This was such a bad idea. This could ruin the friendship they’ve created and fostered in the past year. It could ruin any sense of professionalism between them at work. It was a risk, but it was a risk he wanted to take.

He climbed over her, covering her body with his, careful not to crush her fragile frame. He opened his mouth up to hers, letting her explore him, taste him. The feel of her tongue against his sent waves of electricity down his spine. He felt sparks between his hands and her skin with every touch. She was electrifying. He had never felt more alive than he did then, with her.

He broke the kiss to lean back and strip himself of his shirt, revealing his muscular, toned torso with a number of scars and some light bruises from the events of that night. Emily was transfixed, staring in wonderment at the beautiful man above her. She reached out to lightly run her hands down his chest, feeling his skin and muscles react under her touch. “Perfect,” she whispered so softly only she could hear it. He leaned back down to capture her lips again with his own. She ran her hands up his chest and shoulders, reveling in the firmness of him. She brought her hands to his back, feeling his muscles tense and relax as he moved his lips against hers. The feel of him was intoxicating. The taste of him was intoxicating. She never wanted this to end.

She let out a shaky breath as he kissed down the column of her neck. He sucked lightly on her vibrating pulse, tasting her skin, inhaling her scent. She gasped when he placed a feather-light kiss over the bruise on the swell of her breast. Waves of pleasure washing through her, drowning out the pain. He pulled away as he brought his arm around her back, looking at her for permission to remove her bra. She nodded breathlessly, missing the feel of his lips. He made quick work of unclasping her bra, discarding it onto the floor as he reunited his lips with her skin. He lightly licked at the skin between her breasts then moved his mouth to cover her nipple. She threw her head back with a moan and ran her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, anchoring herself to him.

He moved his attention to her other breast, licking and sucking at her nipple. Her skin was soft and warm under his tongue. He kissed every inch of her chest. “Perfect,” he whispered back to her against her skin, letting her know he heard her just moments before. She was just that. Perfect. He continued worshipping her skin, kissing every bruise, licking every curve.

She writhed beneath him, ribs too sore to arch into his touch, tape from her bandages tugging at her skin. She failed to bite back a cry, making him stop in his tracks, pulling away to look at her, to make sure she’s okay. Her eyes pleaded him to continue as she brought her hands to his belt, unbuckling and removing it swiftly despite her shaking hands. She grasped him through the fabric of his pants. His hips bucked into her hand, searching for friction to relieve him from the ache of his erection. She slid her hand into his boxers to grab the length of him. He was hot and heavy in her hand as she stroked him slowly, agonizingly so.

He leaned back down to plant slow, wet kisses across the sensitive skin of her neck. She had never been kissed with such affection and reverence before. It sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, desire rushing to her core, a throbbing ache between her legs. He slid his hand between them, unbuttoning and unzipping her slacks. He found her wet and ready for him when he slipped his hand beneath her legs. Her desire for him became frantic and frenzied. She slid her hand from his pants to hurriedly remove her own.

She wanted him, and she wanted him now.

She wiggled out of her pants as much as her aching body would allow. Hotch slid her pants and panties the rest of the way down her legs and threw them to the floor. He stepped off the bed to remove his own pants and boxers. She whined at the loss of his heat over her. It was almost torturous being separated from his body, from his touch.

He joined her back on the bed, crushing her lips with a deep, bruising kiss. The weight of him above her kept her grounded and secure, blanketing over her small and fragile form. She gripped him once more, impressed by the length and thickness of him. He groaned into her mouth, his cock painfully hard, throbbing and dripping in her hand.

His hand trailed across her chest to her stomach, finally reaching her folds. His touch sent shivers up her spine. She threw her head back against the pillow beneath her, letting out a breathy moan. His touch was as gentle as it had been all night, his soft strokes contrasting his rough, firm hands. He eased one finger into her, kissing her as he did so, stifling her moan. She clawed at the skin on his back as he fingered her with a precision and dexterity she had never experienced with another man. It was achingly intimate. He brushed his thumb against her clit with each gentle stroke. The sensation had her shuddering underneath him, writhing into his skillful hand.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, aching for him to be inside her. She spread her legs wider and wrapped them around his waist, urging him closer to her. He slowly drew his finger from her, bringing his hand up to cradle her face, as his other rubbed up the back of her thigh. Reaching down she lined him up with her core.

She gasped when he entered her, the thickness of him almost too much to handle at first. He stilled, letting her adjust to his size. When she licked her lips and nodded, he pushed in further with a groan, sheathing himself completely inside her.

After months of silent longing and waiting, they were finally one, two souls fused together to make a whole.

She had never felt so full, so complete. The pleasure was all-consuming, a raging fire burning within her. When he began to thrust into her, she held onto him, grasping at his back as if holding on for dear life. With only a hair’s breadth between them, she basked in the heart of his form. The pressure of him on top of her, inside of her, it was a blissful pain. There was nothing like it, nothing that could compare to the pleasure of it.

Hotch shook above her, overwhelmed by the feeling of her beneath him and around him. His thrusts were deep, slow, and careful. It took all of his strength not to increase to the frantic pace he craved. He wanted this to last, but this slow rhythm didn’t match his frenzied, borderline feral, need for her.

He wrapped his hand around her ankle and moved it over his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrusts. Capturing her mouth with his own, he muffled her cry at the angle change. With each stroke, he brushed against the sweet spot inside her, making her tremble beneath him. When he felt her walls tighten around him, he sped up his pace, throwing caution to the wind. She felt so good around him, and it had been so long. He completely lost any and all semblance of control. Sensing her impending orgasm, he brought his hand between them to flick her clit.

She felt the familiar heat build in her stomach as he worked her higher and higher. She convulsed when he lowered his head to suck on her pulse point. Her orgasm ripped through her with a strength she didn’t know was possible. “Aaron,” she cried out. The name slipped from her lips so naturally it was as if she had been calling him that her whole life when really, this was the first time.

He loved the way his name sounded on her lips, the intimacy of it making his head spin.

He pulled away to watch in awe as her body shook at the force of her orgasm, slowing his pace, gently moving in and out of her as she rode out the waves of fire tearing through her.

Her moan echoed in the small room. Hotch brought his lips to hers once more to swallow each groan and cry, feeling her body begin to relax. He began to drive into her at a frantic pace, chasing his own release. He was so close, and she was so tight around him, the sensation was almost too much. He panted in her ear, on the edge, on the brink of falling over. “Let go,” she whispered in his ear, still breathless from her own climax.

“Emily,” he groaned as his body tensed, bowstring tight as he trembled at the intensity of his orgasm. The tension left his body as quickly as it came, and he fell limp beside her, still conscious of her injuries, careful not to crush her body with his own.

He pulled her into his embrace, kissing down her neck as the pleasure faded. She didn’t want it to end. She knew that once the pleasure left, the pain would return. So, she drifted off the sleep, the only thing she could do to hold off the pain that was sure to engulf her.

The room fell silent. He held her as she slept, listened to her breath become even and her heart rate slow within her chest. He wanted this feeling to last forever. What that feeling was? Comfort. Security. Happiness. Trust. Healing.

Love.

He loved her. She completed him. She made him feel one again, after all he had lost. He wanted to be with her forever. He wanted to live the rest of his life with her. The yin to his yang. Together embracing the dualities of each other and life. The ups and the downs. The beautiful and the ugly. The good times and the bad. The joys and the challenges. The light and the dark.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fic #hurt/comfort #angst #eventual smut #oneshot #my first fic longer than 1k words #i hope it doesnt suck

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just2bubbly · 3 years

Text

Kidnapped?

Masterlist

Summary

"Goodness, where are we?"

"How am I suppose to know?"

"It's your palace. You live here, not to mention you have a computer in your brain to figure out. Any more reasons?"

What happens when you get kidnapped in your own palace? Bizarre!

More bizarre if you happen to know the kidnapper.

Ship: Kaider

Words: 2.8k

Cinder's Perspective-

"Goodness, where are we?" Kai questioned, his voice a bit higher than usual showing his panic.

"How am I suppose to know?" she retorted, her eyes trying to adjust to the pitch-black darkness around her.

"It's your palace. You live here, not to mention you have a computer in your brain to figure out. Any more reasons?" he cited.

"Yeah," she said dryly. 'Why did being near Kai rob her of her senses?!' her mind seemed to ask herself.

"I don't know," she stated after having done her best at trying to locate their position.

"What?"

"I have no idea where we are!- This place is off the records," she said explaining their situation.

"Are we kidnapped?" he proposed.

"Why would someone do that?"

"We are very important people. You are the Queen of Luna. I am the Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth. The question is why would they not?" he said, matter-of-factly.

"We have been at peace for over a year with Earth. The Lunars have taken a liking to the new way of life. I don't think they would kidnap us," she tried to argue- nonetheless, her mind convinced her to believe that they were kidnapped.

What better reason to come up with other than kidnapping when one finds themselves in a dark chamber?!

"Then we are trapped," he suggested as she had discarded his previous sensible idea of being kidnapped.

"Probably" She stayed silent unable to think about any sane reason to be stuck in a dark room.

"We are stuck," he announced to which she nodded for having nothing else to say.

"Are you sure this place wherever that is- is in the Palace?"

"I guess so- minutes ago we were walking near The Throne Room. We have to be in the Palace, unless-"

"Unless we were knocked out and don't remember anything about it," Kai completed.

"I don't think we were knocked out," she commented.

"And why would that be?"

"My brain did not signify anything about 'System Reboot'- besides I don't think anyone of us remembers about waking up!" she explained her line of reasoning.

"Uh- okay!"

"Do you have your device?" she inquired, her brain seemed to have dawned upon the bright idea of contacting one of her friends.

"No, it's my room- I left it behind. What about yours?"

"Iko wanted it for something," she said, losing hope of seeking any sort of help.

"Do you think we are kept as hostages?" she speculated aloud.

"I am not sure. The last time I was kidnapped it made more sense," he said, using sarcasm at a time where it was least expected.

"Yeah and I was the kidnapper," she said dryly.

As her survival instinct kicked in, she examined the room and it did not look like it was a prison cell. It had no way to escape, neither a window nor a door. She wondered how they had ever entered it.

Kai sighed and sat, his back against the wall- pulling the black-tie that he was wearing loose and opening the collar button of his dress shirt.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice distinct.

"Making myself comfortable. I barely have the energy to remain standing for another minute," he confessed, as he rubbed the sole of his palm into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she queried, suddenly very conscious about checking his health.

"I don't know, I'm tired and haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. Moreover, this dark room is not really helping my case!" he conceded.

She thought of how she had not noticed his fatigue since he had landed on Luna. He really did his best at hiding his weariness from the onlooker.

"Are you going to stand there all this time?" he demanded, making her come sit beside him. They sat in silence not sure about where to start the conversation from. However, the silence felt comfortable, almost serene if not for their setting.

"I feel like we are trapped here," he proclaimed after what felt like a sufficient amount of time had been spent in silence.

"Thank you for the observation Kai, I thought we were having a party here," she added, her every word strong with sarcasm

"Oh really!" he exclaimed with fake disbelief. They stared at each other challengingly- none of them ready to back down until they recalled their scenario. Kai looked away making sure to groan in frustration. Always the responsible one.

"I mean- I don't think we are kidnapped or taken hostages-"

"Enlighten me then why we are here?" she snorted failing to understand him.

He glared but elaborated, "I guess we lost our way and are just trapped in some room which happens to be off records."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, why would they kidnap two people madly in love with each other?"

"What does loving each other have anything to do with kidnapping?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on Cinder if you were kidnapped won't I be drastic to find you and vice versa- we are stuck together-"

"Kai, although I appreciate the gesture of you being desperate to find me in case I was kidnapped, you have watched too many romcoms and sitcoms. Whatever your line of reasoning is, it suits some drama better than the condition we are caught in." she tried her best to explain this to him without trying to chuckle at his dorkiness.

"Besides, how do you even get time to watch dramas?" she asked, trying to figure out how Kai had free time when she seemed to be drowning in paperwork all the time.

"I have a day off just to watch romcoms," he said with so much conviction she believed him there.

"Really? You are allowed such privileges?" Now he really had her attention- an entire day off! Cinder had had to work on Christmas as well.

"No just kidding," he interrupted before she could ask any more questions. She looked at him shocked and muttered something under her breath that made his lips quirk up.

"Kai, besides there are other people to be worried about you. I hope they don't think the Emperor of Eastern Commonwealth got kidnapped on Luna."

"Cinder, they won't think Lunars kidnapped me or you for that matters," he said trying to assure her.

"You never know! The look that Prime Minister Bromstad was shooting my way, makes me believe he wanted something like this to happen to question my moralities!" She huffed in frustration as she failed to keep her nerves in check.

"Do you think they would have started searching for us?"

"They better be- Thorne would definitely notice me when he does not find someone to annoy," She joked trying to calm herself down while trying to think about good reasons to explain this situation. Apparently, 'lost in my own palace' was not the best option she had.

She thought about how she was going to justify her and Kai's absence in today's meeting- but that was really not the worse part. The graver part of their absence would be the murmurs that would go around among the world leaders as she and Kai would enter the conference hall-provided if they ever left this forsaken place. Not to mention the rumours that would question her among her own court, once all the leaders would return back.

Words stopped coming out of her lips unable to keep the conversation going, as her mind tried to grasp the after-effects of this activity.

They had been together under the same roof after a year and all they had to said to each other were formal pleasantries. They had been in the presence of each other for the last 9 hours 27 minutes (let's not address the seconds) and their words had have been nothing but distant. Seldom they went about their duties using satire to converse better except it felt a bit too awkward to be normal and considered casual.

Although Cinder had talked with him on comms numerous times, meeting him in person after a year felt different!

Whoever said long-distance was hard-was very very correct!

Cinder had run so many scenarios of her greeting Kai for over a week- thinking about all that she would have to say in the limited period of 3 days. Alas, reality had been very disturbing. She had very stupidly stumbled over her words in an undignified manner over the sight of him. Thank goodness and all the stars for she had not blurted something more idiotic unfit for the Queen of Luna. When their gazes had met, she was going crazy by just thinking about him and now as if fate was rewarding her for her own stupidity-she had no idea what to say to him stuck in a room alone. Uh!

"I missed you," he blurted out of the blue. It was so unexpected, she contemplated if he had said that just to fill the infinite void of silence between them.

"You missed me?" she challenged, knowing very well that it was not the best thing to say. The appropriate answer would be ' I missed you too." Cinder was never the one to be following rules- hell, she had worn trousers suited with a dress shirt to her own birthday party instead of the classical ball gown she was supposed to.

Even if she would not admit it loudly, she felt happy hearing those words -never having the joy of hearing them from anyone else.

It was the first time someone had said those very said those words aloud to her. Iko never had a chance to miss her as she was constantly with her. She had known Kai and the others for over a year only throughout which the idea of rebellion and their unforeseen, sudden deaths was constantly looming over them -so words of missing each other had never been vocal.

She had a chance of saying 'Miss you' to Peony uncountable times but even then that had never happened. Cinder had never gone very far away to be missed by anyone. Until now.

He nodded and she cursed the darkness wondering if Kai's ears had turned pink.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, failing to keep the concern out of his voice.

"No," she muttered and softly added, "I missed you. Beyond your wits and imagination-"

Unsure if had heard it or not but as she felt him take her hand and move closer to her ear she knew he had heard her. His lips were at her ears and the sudden contact made her shiver in excitement.

"I can imagine- you know having experience with- missing your aunt and all. "

She knew it without being able to see that he was smirking- without caring about how rushed, reckless and rash her actions were - her lips were on his and as if he had anticipated such a response out of her, he was kissing her back without a moment to lose. It felt good to have him near her- just moving her hand through his dark black hair while he held onto her other hand- her cybernetic one. It was not much of symbolism but she felt assured that he wanted her- whole- with her cybernetics, just like she wanted him. It had been mere seconds since their lips but she was already out of breath. Her lungs were burning from the want of oxygen just like her heart that had gone warm with desire.

She moved back to breathe yet she was just millimetres away from him- their foreheads touching. Their eyes locked and the next second they were doubling over with laughter-vibrant and clear.

The kiss was brief yet sweet filled with assurance and hope but it felt like it had broken all spells of awkwardness between the two. This moment was so full of love and happiness, that she wanted to bottle it up and drink from it again and again once Kai would be gone. Her worries were forgotten for a while, as she took in his lean frame, his long hair that fell over the copper-brown eyes that looked like they were looking through her soul as if she was some sort of art.

"I missed you," she whispered in the crook of his neck meaning each word.

"Me too!"

She inhaled his scent- closing her eyes as she took in the exhilarating smell of cedar and sharp mint.

"Cinder?"

"Kai," she whispered back.

"Look," he told.

'Hmmm"

"We are no longer inside the room"

"What?" she said her eyes opening to look around- it was true. She was not in some dark room, she was a few feet away from the Throne Room.

She whirled around not trusting her eyes, "How is this even possible? We were trapped just now and now-"

"You don't sound so happy?"

"What?! I am obviously happy but-"

" Is being trapped with me so bad?"

"Kai! No-"

Realizing he was just playing around with her she huffed and glared at him while he settled for a grin. He was going to be the end of her!

"Kai, Be serious! " she ordered her voice commanding. However, her eyes held no anger only bewilderment.

"Oh yeah- I completely forgot. I got caught, more like trapped somewhere near the left of the Throne room. Can you figure it out for me? The place is like some sort of magical room it appeared out of nowhere and it was gone."

"Hmm..sounds interesting!" Iko mumbled, her face full of concentration as her slender fingers tapped on her chin as if thinking deeply.

"Were you alone?" she inquired.

"Ac-actually there was someone else with me." She was not sure if she wanted to share details of her time in a dark room with Iko but convincing herself she admitted, "Well, I was stuck inside with Kai."

As if this piece of information was very vital, her eyes sparkled as they changed their colour to bright, joyous, warm yellow.

"A private place- no disturbance," she said pointedly.

"What?"Cinder asked confused over her remark of 'private place'. The smirk on Iko's pretty face made Cinder suspicious and then it clicked together- like a painting kept inside water becomes clearly visible once the water goes still.

"Uh! Sorry, I was just thinking about a few things-" he said, his eyes glossed up with emotion much similar to wistfulness.

"Are you feeling nostalgic Emperor Kaito?" she proposed, not quite sure about what Kai was remembering.

"Probably yes," he admitted his head turned to look at her among the company of her friends.

"You have memories attached to this place. I can only imagine the young Emperor grieving over the loss of his first wife. I hope your heart has found peace without my aunt around."

"It has been a hard year but I have found solace without dear Levana," he said with such a grieved tone that it was almost convincing if not for his eyes that were twinkling with humour and mirth.

"Let's hope you have a good time in my abode, Emperor."

"That I would surely have," he said with a smirk playing along his very pretty and tempting lips which was followed by a wink.

"I guess we have had enough flirting for the evening. Now if you two would move-"

"Captain why would you disturb them? They look so adorable together" Iko squealed casting a look of love towards her.

"Aces, If they had continued I would have thrown up," Thorne complained earning a glare from everyone around him especially Cinder who was on the verge of strangling him for having disturbed their moment.

"Thorne, they are not being adorable now that you have disturbed them," Iko whined to an amused and proud looking Thorne.

Forgetting the two who had very unapologetically interrupted their exchange, Cinder whispered, "Next time somewhere bit private, unlike my throne room. How about that Emperor?"

He cocked his head and agreed, taking a pause as if pretending to think about it, "Your wish is my command, My Queen."

It made complete sense- the room appearing and disappearing while her schedule was clear, with no one but them on the floor while they were trapped. Later, she was secured after quality time spent with Kai. It was obviously Iko, she should have known.

"Iko," she yelled as her friend slipped away from her chambers.

"You asked for it," she shouted back.

And like perfect timing Kai, walked along. She supposed that this was part of Iko's plan as well.

"What did you ask for?" he asked, coming to stand beside her while she rested her head on his shoulder.

"That room- it was Iko all along!" she offered.

"Apparently it was not just Iko- it was Iko AND Thorne."

Her friend was going to get a hell lot of yelling later but right now Cinder was thankful for what she had done.

___

A/N: Okay, the entire book series has the phrase 'Miss You' said only 4 times. I drift a bit away from canon in this part of the fic because Cinder did say 'miss you' to Peony while she was in quarantine and to Kai while he was leaving for Earth after the revolution. Even he had said those very words to her before Thorne dropped him off to New Beijing. I just choose to avoid those moments, probably because those words did not carry much meaning in the heat of the revolution. I believe Cinder feels guilty for never having expressed her thoughts of fondness for Peony in the pandemic- type of society that they lived in, where life was not exactly what I would call guaranteed.

And well Angie aka @gingerale2017 - Thank You for the request. I know I took too much time to revert back to it (I think approximately 4 months) but I did not really find a nice plot until now and I have made a few changes just to align with my ideas- so if you were expecting something different... I'm sorry! It felt wonderful writing this! :)

Thank you again! <33

Be sure to reblog or comment if you like it!

I do take prompts for TLC (ship- Kaider), so if you want to you can hit me up with them!

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @linhcinder686 @shellyseashell @ladyvesuvia (Tell me if you wanna be added/removed)

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